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| The story of Gadadubeda, aka 'Gotta DO Better' aka 'Dewey' | ||
| Below is reprinted from the TIMES UNION Sunday Edition, November 12, 2006.
With permissions from the author and the TIMES UNION. |
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| OFF THE CLOCK | ||
| The mysterious love of a rescued greyhound | ||
 DEWEY TURNS heads on the streets of Saratoga Springs with his sleek good looks and his mysterious past, owner Kate Perry says. |
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| By KATE PERRY Staff writer ----------- Sometimes my greyhound comes home from a late-night walk through Saratoga Springs smelling like cigarettes and cheap perfume. I know he's been mingling with the bar crowd on Caroline Street, and I know my boyfriend, Matt, has been answering a lot of questions. The drinkers run their hands over the bumpy ridge of spine along Dewey's back and gush about his sleek, brindle coat as they quiz. Mostly they want to know if we are feeding him enough (yes) and if he's really, really hyper (no, he naps with enthusiasm). The questions started when we adopted him in January and haven't stopped. Dewey, the dog who will snorkel in his water dish for an errant, soggy piece of lams, is an enigma. The people we meet are happy to learn that he is adopted, but sad to know he spent close to 80 percent of his life before us in a crate. They are surprised he is so docile, and that he came all the way from Massachusetts to live with us. (Some greys come to the Capital Region from as for away as Arizona.) They are even more shocked to learn that he'd never seen a set of stairs, a schnauzer, a pond or a plate glass door until he retired a year ago. He only knew crates and concrete runs and other greyhounds. Some of the latter likely attacked. |
When they — the joggers, the drunks, the children, the cops — realize where he has been, they love him without knowing him. Matt likes telling our friends about the grown men who've stooped to the sidewalk and kissed Dewey's snout. There's a woman we see occasionally; she's about 65 or so and dripping costume jewelry. Each time we meet, she tells us how she carried a dachshund down the aisle at her wedding instead of a bouquet as she seizes Dewey's head, rubbing her overly rouged cheeks on his face, peppering him with lip-sticky kisses. He never flinches. He never pulls away. In his 10 months with us, we've discovered some things about him. He loves cheese of any kind. If we're really quiet, we can catch him asleep in the armchair we've banned him from. His tail is missing the side-to-side wagging gene, and instead waves around in random directions. We have a lot of answers, but not all of them. There are the normal doggy mysteries: 'What's he dreaming about when his legs start churning in the middle of the night? Why must he sniff five trees and a light pole before he finds just the right thing to pee on? But then there are the greyhound questions: The five inches of tail, he's missing, and the tip of one ear that's gone. The wide black scars on his neck and hip. And then there's his pitiful racing-name: Gadadubeda (Gotta DO Better), and the single-minded owner who named him. |
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 KATE PERRY, a reporter at the Times Union, is used to getting lots of questions about Dewey, her recently adopted greyhound. |
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| We've searched for details in the online greyhound database. All we find is his lineage. Grandma Bikini Babe and grandpa Trojan Episode. No brothers, just one sister named Oh Oh Janet. He has no racing record, either. I guess he never did better. What's more mysterious is his boundless love for humans, despite the loveless existence he led until he got to his foster home with Greyhound Rescue of New York last November. |
When we visit family in Rochester, Dewey braves a pair of hysterical shih-tzus barking at his knees to get a pat on the head from my mom. Anything for affection. His first night with us, he went to sleep curled up on his bed on the floor. When we woke up in the morning he was splayed out between us like he'd slept there his whole life. The only thing I'm sure of with Dewey is that when I wake up in the morning he'll be there, one bony elbow in my calf. And he'll smile at me, wagging his tail in weird nonpattern pattern, like we haven't seen each other in years. |
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| Kate Perry can be reached at 454-5092 or by e-mail at kperry@timesunion.com | ||
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