My Story, by Styxie...

My name is Styx--aka Scary Venture (my track name), Styxie, Styxen, Styx the Gigantor, Cow-boy (because of my big, sweet cow eyes), Moose, Big Lug. I was released from the Raynham dog track on March 1, 2008 to Greyhound Welfare so I could begin my new life as a house dog. My foster parents, Liz and Jo, have put together this blog to tell my story so that what happened to me might not happen to another greyhound that gets adopted from the track, or otherwise. They also want people who knew me to post stories and pictures in remembrance of me.

I was born on April 17, 2004 (this is me: Scary Venture), and raced until I was almost four years old. When my racing career began to wind down, I was turned over to a volunteer organization called Greyhound Welfare, who placed me with my foster parents to learn how to live in a home setting while I awaited adoption to my forever home. I settled into home life very quickly!

My foster parents told me I adjusted more quickly than any of their other foster fur-kids! I was so comfortable in my new temporary home that I didn't cry much at all (except during the first few days, because I had a stitch in an irritating place from my recent neuter surgery—ouch!). I loved all the other dogs in the house (though it took them awhile to warm up to me, I think—but I was patient and it paid off), and I especially loved the kitties! They were so cute and cuddly! My favorite thing was to nuzzle their faces with my wet nose, even though I knew that at least 50% of the time they would hit me in the face :-(.

I also loved all the toys they had there, especially Mr. Duck. I frequently carried my Mr. Duck around with me everywhere, though he got me in trouble more than once or twice! See, Mr. Duck would come and sit on the couch with me (oh, I know I wasn't supposed to but it was so comfortable!) when no one was looking, but he always forgot to jump down with me when we heard them return!

After awhile of living with Liz and Jo, they noticed that sometimes I had some tummy upsets. They first thought I had a food allergy, but they would change my food, and as soon as I got stressed my stomach would get icky again even if I had been on the that particular food for quite some time successfully. During this time, Liz would also take me to work on occasion. See, she worked at a huge dog daycare and it was the most fun because they threw tennis balls for the dogs, and that's MY FAVORITE THING IN THE WHOLE WORLD!!!

Anyway, when I was there and chasing tennis balls, Liz noticed that when I got overexcited I began to overheat—I looked like I was going to faint and had a hard time recovering from even a little bit of exercise. She and Jo had some experience with dogs that have heart disease, and they wondered if that was what was going on with me.

They talked to Greyhound Welfare and ended up taking me to Hawthorne Animal Hospital in Salem to check out my heart. Dr. Freedman couldn't find anything wrong with my heart, so they made an appointment for me at Angell Memorial Hospital in Boston. Because this was going to be an all day event, Jo and Liz weren't able to take me, so their GW friends, Cindy Jo and Jim, volunteered to take me because they are lovely generous people who love greyhounds (especially me, because I was so beautiful and sweet, of course!). Before my appointment, Liz took a nice video of my problem at work, and then I got to have a sleepover at Cindy and Jim's house in Gloucester. It was a great time because they let me nap on the chaise, and of course I was a gentleman at the hospital!

They decided that there was nothing wrong with my heart but began to talk about this thing called stress-induced malignant hyperthermia. Basically it means that my body has a hard time with temperature regulation. When I get stressed out or I exercise, I get way too hot and it's difficult to cool down. It's something that sometimes happens to us greyhounds. So even though the diagnosis was not definite, Jo and Liz always made sure I was cool and calm at my foster home. They never left me alone for too long, they always made sure I had access to cool water even when I was alone, and they kept the house nice and cool for me to make sure I didn't overheat again. Unfortunately, they also stopped letting me chase tennis balls as much (only a few throws), especially during the warmer days. But that's ok, I was happy to nuzzle my kitties, play with Mr. Duck, and cuddle with everyone who was willing.

After about 6 months at my foster home, I was happy with my life but Jo and Liz realized that I really wanted to be a "dog #1". Though they wanted to keep me with them, there were just too many dogs around, and I really wanted a person to call my own. Luckily, a new couple was being approved to adopt a greyhound through GW, and the dog they were interested in was me! Liz and Jo felt this was a perfect match because the couple said they wanted to do therapy work with me, which is obviously something I was born for—everyone loves me, after all! So they were approved (after visiting me at an open house), and they came out to my foster home to meet me. They were here for a couple hours, and while Liz and Jo talked about all the reasons I was perfect (and I was!), they also discussed my special needs: that although I loved to chase tennis balls, I had a history of overheating, and shouldn't run much, most especially on hot days. Also that I was never left alone for more than 6 hours, that I always had water in my crate, and that the house was always kept cool. They said they were still interested, that they wanted me and only me, and then they signed the necessary papers to adopt me. A few days later (August 30, 2008), they picked me up, and I was on my way to my new home.

The first couple days at my new home were fantastic! I got adjusted to my new surroundings and settled into my new routine. My new family was around for the first two days all the time, and they even took me to PetSmart to pick out some new stuff! On the third day they went golfing in the morning (I was lonely, but they weren't gone too long, so I was ok) and then they took me to the dog park to chase tennis balls. I had a great time, but I ran so hard my feet got cut up and stingy—ouch! Plus, it was kind of hot out, so I overheated a little. But they took me to see Liz and Jo, and they reminded them that I shouldn't run so much in the heat. The next day, I expected to spend the day with my new family again but they both left early in the morning. I was used to that though—like I said, Jo and Liz would leave me alone for up to 6 hours sometimes. But my new family forgot to leave the water in the crate with me—that's ok, maybe they were still learning. But then 6 hours went by and I expected them to come home and they didn't. And the room was all windows and got really hot in the middle of the day. Plus, they were turning down the air conditioner to keep the room at 78 degrees Fahrenheit. That might be ok for some dogs, but I'm a greyhound, and sometimes I overheat—way too hot for me! This was certainly not what I was used to, but like I said, maybe they just forgot. Or maybe something came up.

The next day, they prepared to leave again, and I whined a little because they forgot to leave me water again, and I didn't know when they would come back. Six hours went by again, and still no family, not again for another 6 hours. I was so stressed that day that I ripped apart the bed in my crate—it was so frustrating to be alone for so long. I couldn't go to the bathroom, I couldn't have a drink, and it was so warm in that room! I loved my new family, but why didn't they understand? I was so excited to see them when they came home because I was hot and thirsty, and had to go to the bathroom really bad! I hoped that they would figure this out tomorrow based on my reaction tonight.

The next day (September 4, 2008), they prepared to leave again, and this time I howled and howled. I wanted so badly to tell them that 12 hours was too long, that the room was getting too hot in the middle of the day, and that I was getting thirsty and had to go to the bathroom! They left anyway despite my pleas. Around midday (the vet guessed at this), I started to feel really hot because I was panicking all morning. Usually when I get this hot, I like to pace a bit, then have some cool water and lie on the cool floor. I hoped that someone would come and check on me, but no one did. The water was right outside my crate but I just couldn't get to it. I paced in the crate, I tried to fight my way out, but this just made me more stressed and my temperature continued to rise. I fought and fought as I became more uncomfortable. I was even able to move the crate several feet until I could almost touch the water bowl, but I couldn't get out. Eventually, I got so hot that I died while trying to get out of the crate using my teeth.

When my new family came home (almost 12 hours after they left that morning), they found me dead in my crate. They called my foster mom, Liz, who was celebrating her birthday, and she came over to see me and to help out. They brought me to the vet, who checked my temperature and discovered that several hours postmortem, I was still at 107 degrees Fahrenheit—they said that when I died, I must have been around 112 degrees Fahrenheit. My new family wanted to know what happened, but then left. Liz and Jo decided that they wanted to have me cremated to take me home with them, and then tell my story so that others may be able to understand my condition and help the greyhounds that they love. So there I am, and there I will stay, where I belong, with my Mr. Duck.

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If you would like to post comments, stories, or pictures of your experiences with Styxie, please click on the Your Story tab at the top of this page. We'd like to extend our heartfelt thanks to all of our friends for their support, and Greyhound Welfare for taking this matter as seriously as they did. Please note: the story of Styxie's last days was written using information from his adopter's own blog, where they chose to publicly chronicle the four days he spent with them. They have since dismantled much of that blog...

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