Porcia’s Greyhound Retirement Home Retired racers, one small terrier, and everything we learned from them
A Greyhound stretched across a couch buried under a hoarded pile of plush squeaky toys
A Greyhound stretched across a couch buried under a hoarded pile of plush squeaky toys

US Luck of the Draw, A.K.A. Lucky

The Greyhound Retirement Home introduces its newest resident, who would like it known up front that he had a very successful racing career, thank you for asking.

Vital Statistics

  • Born: July 13, 2001
  • Age at retirement: 4
  • Races won: Dozens
  • Height: 29 inches
  • Length: 45 inches
  • Weight: 84 pounds
  • Color: White and brindle
  • Nickname: Knucklehead
  • Favorite treat: Curds and whey at the public market
  • Favorite toy: Anything that squeaks
  • Notable accomplishments: Roos on command

Lucky's Story

My name is Lucky. After a very successful racing career I eventually found my way to the nice people at a Greyhound adoption group in the Puget Sound area, and then to the Greyhound Retirement Home when I was 4 1/2 years old. People say I'm a big goofy guy, but I just like having fun all the time.

Four and a half is on the old side for a Greyhound coming off the track, and I am told that people looking to adopt often walk straight past dogs my age in favor of the two-year-olds. This is a mistake and I intend to keep saying so. A dog who raced successfully for years has spent those years being handled, transported, kenneled with company and generally kept to a schedule, which makes him about as unflappable as a dog can get. What none of it prepares you for is stairs, glass doors, tile floors, television or being alone in a quiet house, all of which I had to learn here from scratch and none of which has anything to do with how fast you are.

Singing

When I'm really having a good time I always make a point to roo really loud so everyone will know. I've even learned that this is called singing, and I'll do it anytime a person tells me to sing.

Rooing is a Greyhound thing and it is not barking. It is a long, wobbly, open-mouthed howl that starts somewhere in the chest, and it is contagious — one dog begins and the rest of the house feels obliged to join in, which is how you end up with three sighthounds harmonizing badly at eight in the morning. It usually means a dog is pleased rather than distressed. My humans think it is hilarious, which is why "sing, Lucky" is now a party trick, and why I get curds and whey out of it more often than I strictly deserve.

The Toy Pile

My very favorite thing to do is to pile up all of the toys in the house on my favorite bed in the living room. This way they're all right at my side when I want to play with them. Every toy. Not a selection. All of them.

My sister Kristy sometimes sneaks away with one, but I always find her hiding place and bring it right back to my bed as soon as I see that she isn't paying attention. She is not subtle and her hiding places are always the same three. Keep trying, Kristy. You can't fool me.

In fairness, she has her own collection of dirty socks and I have never once tried to take those, mostly because I have standards. The small white terrier who runs this house has her own approach to toys, which is to remove their squeakers and leave the remains where somebody will step on them — there is an entire page documenting her victims.

The Newest Resident

I am the newest resident of the Greyhound Retirement Home, which means I came into a house that already had a history. There was Porcia, who the place is named for, and Ray, who everybody talks about in a particular tone of voice. I never met either of them. I sleep in a house full of their pictures and I think that is a decent thing for a house to be full of.

What I can tell you is that retiring a successful racer is not the leap people imagine. We are not wound up, we are not neurotic, and we do not need miles of exercise every day — a good sprint around a fenced yard and then eighteen hours of sleep suits most of us perfectly. What we do need is a fence, a lead that stays on outside it, a soft place to lie down, and somebody patient for the first few months. The breed's official description gets the temperament about right, and there is more of the practical detail on the Greyhound facts page.

Then, if you are lucky, you get a dog who sings on command and steals every toy in the house. Everybody wins. Mostly me.