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In 2004 I found a lump on my almost 10 year old Greyhound Foxy's front leg. The lump was
removed and we were told Foxy has cancer. There was a 70% likelihood of the tumor returning
in the first three months. Foxy remained cancer free until her journey to the bridge on August 5,
2008. We had 4 wonderful years with no return of the tumor.
I know we are truly one of the very lucky ones. Since facing the stark reality of cancer, I have
watched others loose their beloved greys to cancer, in particular osteo, I had always wanted to
do something to help. In June, 2005 one of my favourite greyhounds, Clover, was diagnosed
with osteosarcoma. By July, she was gone. I had to do something to help!
Since I make jewelry for hounds, it made sense that using that skill would be the place to start.
I created an Awareness Collar Bling for Hope, something all dogs and their humans could wear.
My intent was to raise a couple of thousand dollars. How little I understood the greyhound
owner. Within months I was run off my feet, and quickly recognized that I needed other funding
raising methods.
Since then, many other wonderful greyhound owners have joined the fight, in particular, many
members of Grey Talk.
removed and we were told Foxy has cancer. There was a 70% likelihood of the tumor returning
in the first three months. Foxy remained cancer free until her journey to the bridge on August 5,
2008. We had 4 wonderful years with no return of the tumor.
I know we are truly one of the very lucky ones. Since facing the stark reality of cancer, I have
watched others loose their beloved greys to cancer, in particular osteo, I had always wanted to
do something to help. In June, 2005 one of my favourite greyhounds, Clover, was diagnosed
with osteosarcoma. By July, she was gone. I had to do something to help!
Since I make jewelry for hounds, it made sense that using that skill would be the place to start.
I created an Awareness Collar Bling for Hope, something all dogs and their humans could wear.
My intent was to raise a couple of thousand dollars. How little I understood the greyhound
owner. Within months I was run off my feet, and quickly recognized that I needed other funding
raising methods.
Since then, many other wonderful greyhound owners have joined the fight, in particular, many
members of Grey Talk.
| Make a donation to Hope for Hounds With every $15.00 donation, you will receive a Hope for Hounds pin. This pretty pewter pin is approximately 1" across. |
| Purchase something from the Hope for Hounds Café Press Store From t-shirts to mouse pads there is something for everyone. Hope for Hounds Café Press Store |
Our first Miss Nellie Auction was held in May 2006. Our goal was $4,000.00 again the greyhound community blew me away. By Auction close
we had raised $8,000.00. The Miss Nellie Auctions has become much anticipated annual event in the greyhound community with our 6th
Annual Miss Nellie Auction October 23 - October 31, 2011
All monies raised by Hope for Hounds go to Ohio State University specifically the Greyhound Health and Wellness Program. We
deeply appreciate the work Dr Guillermo Couto and his team do on behalf of our greyhounds.
| Foxy, I'ma Foxy Dawg, December 5, 1995 - August 5, 2008 |
| Let's keep working hard to find a cure for our beloved hounds. Here's how can you help support research on cancer in greyhounds! |
The 2011 2 Hounds Design's Hope for Hounds
Collar is here and it's fabulous.
Support Hope for Hounds and lets kick cancer
to the curb
2 Hounds Design
Collar is here and it's fabulous.
Support Hope for Hounds and lets kick cancer
to the curb
2 Hounds Design
Our girl has OS. How can this be? Her legs look the same, her toes, their nails, everything is perfect and symmetrical.
But inside one, a stealthy, deadly monster has taken hold.
She has no idea. The soft tissue injury that led to this discovery has healed, and she is on medication to manage pain.
She’s happy, turning into a constant presence during any kitchen activity because we are spoiling her and no longer
care about developing bad habits. We welcome her nose on the counter, expecting something is there for her.
She grabs toys and shakes them, prances about with them proudly, teasing, her every look saying “play with me”.
We have chosen palliative treatment – to keep her whole, and to keep the enemy at bay for what we hope will be some
months. But we know our time is short, and we are watchful for signs that it is ending.
Grief arrives in advance; it sneaks up and ambushes us unpredictably. We feel joy in everything that makes her
happy, while a lump forms in our throats. How can it be that soon this happy, loving, bunny soft beauty will be gone?
We have so many memories; we will talk to her ashes, and hug her urn. Perhaps in time we will understand how such
an alive creature, so full of energy and joy, can turn to dust. As we all will one day, but for her it is too soon, so soon .
. .
I took another of our hounds to the chiropractor today, and told her “one of our greyhounds has osteo”. She looked
askance and asked “osteo-what?” I realized, and explained that in the greyhound world, that shorthand was sadly,
universally understood to mean only one thing.
It has been our tradition when a friend has lost a hound, to burn a candle at dusk to honour their memory and help
light their way to the Bridge. I want to light candles for her now, of supplication, of hope. But I am afraid they may be
misunderstood by the Fates, by Destiny.
So we hug, I rub her soft furry tummy, rub her ears, and leave my perfume on her. When her time comes, it will be the
incense she leaves with.
She’s roaching as I write this – her favourite resting pose.
Rest easy my beauty, in the coming twilight our hearts will touch.
But inside one, a stealthy, deadly monster has taken hold.
She has no idea. The soft tissue injury that led to this discovery has healed, and she is on medication to manage pain.
She’s happy, turning into a constant presence during any kitchen activity because we are spoiling her and no longer
care about developing bad habits. We welcome her nose on the counter, expecting something is there for her.
She grabs toys and shakes them, prances about with them proudly, teasing, her every look saying “play with me”.
We have chosen palliative treatment – to keep her whole, and to keep the enemy at bay for what we hope will be some
months. But we know our time is short, and we are watchful for signs that it is ending.
Grief arrives in advance; it sneaks up and ambushes us unpredictably. We feel joy in everything that makes her
happy, while a lump forms in our throats. How can it be that soon this happy, loving, bunny soft beauty will be gone?
We have so many memories; we will talk to her ashes, and hug her urn. Perhaps in time we will understand how such
an alive creature, so full of energy and joy, can turn to dust. As we all will one day, but for her it is too soon, so soon .
. .
I took another of our hounds to the chiropractor today, and told her “one of our greyhounds has osteo”. She looked
askance and asked “osteo-what?” I realized, and explained that in the greyhound world, that shorthand was sadly,
universally understood to mean only one thing.
It has been our tradition when a friend has lost a hound, to burn a candle at dusk to honour their memory and help
light their way to the Bridge. I want to light candles for her now, of supplication, of hope. But I am afraid they may be
misunderstood by the Fates, by Destiny.
So we hug, I rub her soft furry tummy, rub her ears, and leave my perfume on her. When her time comes, it will be the
incense she leaves with.
She’s roaching as I write this – her favourite resting pose.
Rest easy my beauty, in the coming twilight our hearts will touch.
THIS is why I continue to do what I do - Janet Shaffer founder of Hope for Hounds
From a good friend and greyhound Mom
From a good friend and greyhound Mom