The Joys of Adopting a Senior Greyhound

The tale is told over and over, "I really want a young dog" and we continue to remind new adopters that seniors are the best kept secret. Tessa was just that greyhound to her momma. Seven years is not old when you are talking to a greyhound, and Tessa's momma knows just how happy a senior greyhound can make you feel.

"She has told me many, many, many times how
much joy that decision has brought into her life."

I am Tessa also known as Miss Tessa, Tessa Tessa Tigerlily, Babydog, Sweetpie, and Tessa My Lee. I was born in Ireland and after my racing career I wound up in Oregon. After raising one litter of pups, I decided it was time to retire.

I was seven years old when I met my mom. She had never had a female and wasn’t sure she wanted to adopt a senior (how absurd, I was only 7). But, all I had to do to win her heart was walk into her open arms as she knelt down. She has told me many, many, many times how much joy that decision has brought into her life.

I am the personification of the term “couch potato”. I do not believe in wasting energy on silly things like running to the door when someone comes in or even bothering to get up. I might turn my head to look at them if it suits me. Of course, if they were to offer a tasty treat, that might be a different story.


Don’t get the impression that I have never performed the “wild, insane dog” routine. Mom could always tell when I’d been flying through the house. The mattress on her bed would be sideways. What can I say, it was a great place for a banked turn! Now that I’m almost twelve, I’ve decided to leave that activity to younger dogs, like ten years old. These days, I’m content with laying in the sunny yard and a nice morning walk with only an occasional sprint through the house!


Oh yes, then there is this thing mom calls prey drive. Apparently, she believes I have a high one. About a week after I moved in, a squirrel had the nerve to come right up to the sliding door. I was obsessed. So, furniture was moved away from windows (no more standing on the bed to look out) and the sliding door became opaque. After that, I took mom on many squirrel hunts in the park (she said something about desensitizing). Mom is a terrible hunter. It didn’t take long for me to realize she seems unable to grasp the concept of stealth or understand that if she would just drop the leash the prey would be mine. She stomps her feet and makes all kinds of noise when we start getting close to those pesky squirrels, and then they run up a tree! I finally decided she is a hopeless case and I will never be able to train her to hunt. Now I look at the squirrels longingly but I’ve accepted the fact that I won’t be able to catch them before she starts making a racket.


Mom tells me I’m beautiful, sweet, silly, huggable, and sometimes a naughty pup (always said with a smile). But, the thing she tells me most often is that I’m loved and it has nothing to do with my age. I am Tessa.