Now that I’ve been through the Greyhound adoption process several times, I’ve learned that there are stages that come along with it. In the beginning, everything is new and most Greyhounds are trying to take it all in. Some are more confident than others, but most adapt to their lives in retirement within a few weeks or months rather comfortably.
What often happens is that they become very attached to their new humans and go through a stage commonly referred to as the Velcro Stage. This is when they want to be everywhere with you, whether you’re in bed, on the couch, in the kitchen or even in the bathroom. They just want to be near the object of their affection as much as possible. Normally, this stage passes. It often correlates closely with their discovery of how wonderful it is the have the couch to themselves. Never let it be said that Greyhounds do not quickly develop a strong attachment to their creature comforts. A few months in, and most people wouldn’t be able to tell that they hadn’t lived with you since their puppy days.
I have to confess, I find that Velcro Stage a bit endearing. It’s also exasperating at times, I can’t lie about that. I am not a person who lets the dogs into the bathroom with her, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t think they should be in there with me. I’m not sure why, maybe for moral support. I remain firm in my stance, though, that it’s a place to go alone. There is something really sweet and almost a little addictive that comes along with a furry little body that always wants to be where you are, just because you’re there.
Bunny has been an independent little miss since early on when she came to us. She definitely enjoys our company and being with us, but if she can see us walking around in the kitchen from the couch, there’s no reason to give up a good thing in her mind, unless treats are being distributed in there. She will lay in our bedroom in the morning, snoozing in between our pillows, until she hears the telltale sound of a spoon hitting the bottom of a yogurt cup. Then she’ll trot into the living room, collect her prize and carry it back to bed.
In the last couple of months, I’ve noticed a few changes in her. She’s become more of a Velcro dog as she enters her senior years. I have a dog bed beside my computer desk, and Bunny is the only one who lays on it. Most of the time, it’s reserved for times when I’m working on the computer. If I take the computer to the couch to work, though, it’s a guarantee that she will be laying on the couch with me, defending our prime real estate from any possible interlopers. If I go upstairs to take pictures, she will race past me on the stairs to get to the top first, ensuring that she will be the one in front of the camera.
Bunny’s mission seems to be that I will never type alone. While there are a few things I prefer privacy for, having her nearby while I’m writing and working on photos is a nice habit that I’m getting used to. She’d probably tell you that she’s keeping an eye on me to make sure that I do things right, but whatever her motivations are, I enjoy the company.