I am the black greyhound Diesel (Mom's under the shower, so I can surf anyway I want!). First, I must apologize for my bad English: you know, even if I waz born in Ireland, I spent all my life in Italy, and now, since November, I'm living in France, with Mom! I don't like to remember my racing career. I waz always muzzled, I didn't meet anybody except for eating or running, they made me hate other greys, I waz forced to run several times a week... It wazn't the Italian way of life, it wazn't a kind of "dolce vita", we were slaves...

May 2002, ze track closed because of bankruptcy. But it wazn't good news for the 375 of us
living there: Spanish tracks wanted to buy us (where greys may run two times a day!), labs and vets too, ze owner wanted to put us to death.

European rescue charities decided to take care of us, and give us good families. Auntie-Catherine (Miz president of Levriers en Detresse, in France) and Auntie-Anne (from Greyhounds in Need UK) came to visit us in Italy. Auntie-Cath' iz really someone special: she knows how to whisper to sighthound's ears ! And she whispered to the 55 she brought back in
France. And we all knew that we were saved, and that Hell waz behind us!

October 2002, after a long journey in a lorry, I arrived in Haguenau (Alsace) with 34 bros and
sisters, a little town near the German border, in France. For the first time of my life, nobody made me run! I waz in a wide and single box, with a really cozy nest where I could rest, and without this muzzle! I knew there how to behave with my bros and sisters.

I stayed at the shelter for a month, waiting for MY family. Then, Mom and Po came to adopt me! I fell in love with Mom before she even saw me! So, I jumped on my feet and ran to the front door of my box, to show Mom I waz a GOODOGOODBOY! I showed her my most marvellous smile, I licked her fingers (Gee... soooo great!), I danced on my feet, with my wagging tail, and whining. She said that I wear a smart suit: white socks, white gloves, white shirt and white tie, and a deep black coat. I knew that I won: she took a leash off her jacket, and she walked me.

Me, Mom and the kids

To show her I waz a GOODOGOODBOY, I jumped in her station-wagon (greyhounds can smell
properly, when they want it to!). And she drove me back to her home (350 miles): it waz my last journey before my new life, and I enjoyed it.

First days in a home were really amazing: I didn't know how to climb stairs, I didn't know
that this little furry and furtive thing called "ZECAT" wazn't a lure to chase, I didn't know that all meals Mom cooked were not for me. The day Mom caught me eating the bread on her table, she told me I waz a "NONONOBADOG." She was wrong. Sure, it wazn't me, I am a greyhound, not a "NONONOBADOG"...

So. I enjoy my new life very much: I have my own sofa and my toys; I run for fun once a week in a wide and closed park, with other sighthounds (Mom became a volunteer of Levriers en Detresse, and she organized "Meets and Greets" with adopting families several times a month). And I love my Mom ! When I'm afraid of the big "KRABOOOM" in the sky, she opens the door of her room and I can sleep in her bed, close to her, under the curtain!

Us men at work!

Last May, Mom brought me ANOTHER DOG ! First, I wazn't very happy. Not at all. But this little misery is also a sighthound. She's a Spanish hunting greyhound (galgo). I waz afraid she stoled my Mom, but Miss Pamesa (that's her name) fell in adoration with Zoe (Mom's daughter) and I still have my Mom just for meeeee!

We are a very happy French family!

--- Diesel, the black king