Kasco

by Shelley

Kasco came North in the summer of the year he turned three. Until then, he had been a working dog, running his maiden races out of his birth state, Iowa, and then continuing his “career” at the tracks in Orlando. He didn’t come into our lives until the following July, when he was 4½, after a failed first adoption and then a long stay with a foster family. From the first time we met him at his foster home we knew that he was a cuddler. After showing us some of his toys, he stepped up onto the sofa, one long-toed foot at a time, and laid his needle-nosed muzzle on Pete’s lap. Talk about hook, line, and sinker-we were firmly hooked!

Looking back on that first year with us, we realize that he watched us closely, perhaps not quite trusting that he wouldn’t be bounced again. A racing greyhound’s life is run by schedules, but a constant is that they are moved around and never really have a home. Kasco was a wonderful companion throughout that time, good natured and gentle, but he only became truly pet-like that second winter, meeting us at the door with one or another of his beloved squeaky toys, bouncing around on the couch to make us laugh, and wagging that long striped tail around and around. Now he considers himself quite a lapdog: if he isn’t close enough, he wriggles and writhes until a few more of his 80 pounds are on whoever is closest.

A year after he finally found his forever home with us (and his two Siamese cat brothers), Kasco and I started doing some volunteer work at PetSmart Adopt-a-Greyhound meet-and-greets. I soon realized how much he thrived on this work, and I thought, well, it makes sense-he is a retired working dog, after all. I soon became intrigued with the idea that he might make a good therapy dog, since he’s so people-oriented. Around this time, my Dad was struggling with the effects of chemotherapy. When we were visiting, Kasco regularly went to him and gently leaned against Dad’s knees, placing his head on Dad’s lap whether Dad had the energy to pat him or not. We all attribute human character traits to our dogs from time to time, and I know that the experts say dogs don’t respond to the world as we do, but I swear that Kasco was showing empathy, even compassion. I knew that we had to look into therapy dog work.

I thought we could visit the local retirement residence, but knew that I needed to be trained. Many months of preparation ensued with an Ottawa Therapy Dogs orientation meeting, polishing up on the test requirements, mentoring visits with other teams, and then our own visits to our chosen facility with our mentor. Our first few visits on our own were a little nerve-wracking because of the enormity of the responsibility, but Kasco is a natural and loves his visit night. He knows from the night before when we do our big grooming session. Then, when I get home from work, and we turn down the street for a long walk, he does the bobble-head greyhound thing, which means he’s happy-happy.

Kasco’s fan club has expanded to include many of the residents of the seniors’ residence we visit. Making friends comes easily to him, but I recently discovered just how strong his appeal is. When we first started, I was told that two of the residents were afraid of dogs, and I was given their room numbers so that we could avoid them. As we got to know our new friends, some of them really gravitated to Kasco and became our regulars, while others would give him a quick stroke and that was it.

One very elderly lady who sometimes sat in the common room just looked at us when I greeted her, and the other residents would say, “Oh, don’t worry about her, she doesn’t talk”, or “She only speaks Russian”. Kasco taught me a lesson, though-he reminded me not to give up. You see, I had given up on her, but one evening, after another woman mentioned that this lady had celebrated her birthday that day, we stopped by her chair, and I wished her a happy birthday. She focused on Kasco and reached out her hand to him and he brushed her fingertips with his whiskers, and then she smiled and said one word: “Byoootiful”. She had called Kasco beautiful! That was pretty amazing, but the story gets better ...

The following week, I mentioned this incident to one of the staff members, and said that I didn’t know her name but that the lady who had just celebrated her birthday was starting to respond to Kasco. When she said this woman’s name, my response was “Oh, wait-that’s one of the people who is afraid of dogs!” Names are posted beside room numbers, so I recognized this woman’s name. We were supposed to steer clear of her! But the nurse said that was OK- the woman was afraid mostly of German shepherds because of her experiences in the concentration camps during WWII. So, here was this person with dreadful memories of dogs, but to her Kasco was beautiful. Now, she even strokes his head, and every time we visit, she calls him Byoootiful, and her face lights up with a great, wide grin when she sees him.