Clayton "Claytonius" Lacher

Born: "N Find Me" 4/20/97

Sire: Molotov

Dam: Dominatrix

Breeder: Seelke, Rt 1, Box 112B, Cleo Springs, OK 73729, 580-438-2470

Adopted from Sandy Davidson, 2015 Forrest Glen, 383-2500

January 17, 2008

I heard a cry of agony from his bed. He had tried to stand to follow me into another part of the house and his leg gave out - the femur simply ceased to stiffen his leg between hip and knee. He could not walk, would not lie down, and was in great stress. I phoned Kathy for help and our vet Dr Michelle to ask her to come to the car and examine him.

When Kathy got home we coaxed him, hobbling on three legs with the fourth dangling, to the car and lifted him in. I rode in back with him, supporting him as he still was afraid to lie down. He just panted and teetered on three legs, with me pressing him to the seat back so he wouldn't tumble. Dr M came to the car and the three of us managed to get him to lie down. It was his first moment of peace and calm in a couple of hours. He lay on his side with us holding and stroking him. We knew what was down the road, but tried not to show it to Clayton. For his part, trust was there, as it always had been. The vet could not really examine the leg, so she sedated him. He took the IV calmly, without fear, and drifted off to a sleep in one of his favorite places, the back of Kathy's CRV.

Once he was sound asleep Dr Michelle confirmed the broken femur. Given what we knew, there was no chance of a good heal of that bone, eaten away by cancer to the extent it had spontaneously failed. Clayton, awake with this broken leg, was unable to do anything without great stress and pain. To Kathy and me, it made no sense to wake him up to months of suffering toward an end that could not be good. Dr Michelle concurred. We asked her to put him deeper asleep, to the happy place beyond.

December 2007

In the months preceeding, Clayton had developed a worrying dry cough as well as a seemingly unrelated favoring and limping on his right rear leg. It was natural to think the latter was age-related hip issues, and the vet agreed. He was examined several times for the cough, with no findings. (No xrays were taken.)

During a Christmas visit to my Mom's in Athens, it became clear that Clayton's leg was getting worse. He could still run, like the wind (or rather a freight train - he weighed 92 lbs), but had a pronounced limp, a favoring of the leg when not "on". He also fell a couple of times getting in/out of Van Diesel. When we returned, his cough was also worse. On Jan 16, he had a very bad episode of coughing that resulted in a bloody discharge - the cough went from dry to bloody wet on that day.

We immediately went to Dr M who did a chest xray: a profusion of spots, believed to be secondary sites from metastatic bone cancer, was evident on the film. The leg was then xrayed, but the film was unreadable. We decided to let it go for the time being, since Clayton was under a lot of stress and we needed to get his coughing and lung distress under some control. We went home with a multiweek supply of steriods to ease the effects of cancer. He spent a relatively quiet night, but was uninterested in food. For Clayton, that was like Ray Baron refusing sex. The next day was Jan 17, 2008.

Blitz, Joey and Clayton

Our travel to England in the early 90s was the first step in raising our consciousness about greyhounds. Living a while in London, we decided to visit the Battersea Dog Home, a place that takes in dogs and commits to them - they are allowed to stay indefinitely, until on some lucky day they are adopted. We wanted to see this place, because we had no experience with that kind of humane treatment in the US. The home was an inspirational visit, and could be the subject of an entire essay.

We were struck by the greyhounds at Battersea. Firstly, there were so many. Perhaps more than half the dogs there were greyhounds. Secondly, their nature: without exception, they were quiet but expressive, staring at us with love and longing in the eyes, quite reminiscent of our beloved doberman Greta (who did not make the trip to England). I think we both made the decision, internalized, that when the time was right we would adopt a greyhound. It was heartbreaking to leave Battersea knowing the sadness and disappointment we left behind. But it was wonderful to know the commitment and dedication of the Dog Home for its residents.

The time did arrive, and we adopted our first greyhound, Blitz, from Katherine Crawford. Blitz had a good post-racing life with us, and he and I became inseparable friends. Blitz passed away at around 10 years of age, with bone cancer.

A few months after Blitz's passing, we visited Sitehound Rescue in Thomasville, GA, and found Josephine ("Joey"). Joey is a big girl, probably too big for racing, in any case she was diverted into the adoption track at a pre-race age where things didn't work too well for her. Perhaps she was initially adopted by someone who didn't understand the socialization process. In any case, she found herself back in the adoption system at SHR, and we found her there. Joey is quite shy and demure, but not fearful. A few weeks after adopting Joey, we were asked to take a look at a dog being foster-homed by Sandy Davidson. Sandy had Rotweilers and this greyhound didn't fit in all that well.

I took Joey with me to Sandy's place to see the big guy. Joey was large for a female greyhound, bigger than a lot of males, with fine bones and huge muscles. But Clayton towered over her! He was huge. He stood a full 8 inches taller than a typical Doberman, almost like a small great dane. He has large feet and fairly robust bones, which would have made him a step slow on the track. Joey was quite wary of the Rotweilers (although they showed no sign of aggression). Clayton immediately picked up on that and placed himself between her and the Rotties, where he remained for the entire visit. He did this without fanfare - a man holding a door for a lady.

We adopted Clayton from Sandy in November, 2001.

Life in Prison

Clayton came from a very deprived background (explained to me by Nancy). His race career did not last. He was competitive but a step slower than the winners, undoubtedly due to his higher bone mass. His adoption out of racing landed him with a veteranerian, who used him as a blood doner. For years, he was kept in a concrete floored chainlinked pen, without companionship of dog or human. This is exceptionally cruel for greyhounds, who are used to a very social environment. Clayton was used to provide blood transfusions for poodles and other clients of the vet. His only source of interaction and pleasure was meal time.

(Greyhound blood is 20% higher in red blood cells than other dog breeds, sort of naturally "doped". This has obvious benefits for a racing breed, and it makes their blood extra desirable for other dogs.)

That vet for whatever reason decided he/she no longer needed Clayton - so he dropped Clayton off anonymously in the Leon Co Animal Shelter after-hours drop box. Sandy noticed his arrival. He had horrible caloused growths on his elbows and knees from a life on concrete and was a bit looney from social deprivation. He craved food, likely because that is all he had to live for in the years of solitary confinement. Nancy fostered him out the day he was scheduled for euthanization. She cured his legs and started him back to socialization. What a wonderful thing to do.

Brothers


I have had the honor of sharing life with a number of dogs: Dachshunds (Waldi, Bruno, Figaro, Daisy, Ceasar), Fox Terrier, Beagle (Belle), Dobermans (Greta, Max, Porsche, Babe), Greyhounds (Blitz, Joey, Clayton), along with a few other creatures including cats, squirels, and birds. Clayton and I had a special bond, with some intangible extra consciousness between us that I can't adequately explain or describe. We were brothers in the sense of chosen, rather than born, to be so. That's Clayton and Babe on Mom's porch in Athens.

Hoo-Dah

During his life with us Clayton and I developed a special bond. We spoke to each other with body and facial language and tone of voice. He helped me invent a vehicle for my end of this communication. It began when I would arrive home and say "Who's 'da Dog" (or "who're 'da dogs" to them all). That evolved to "who 'da dogga" and further to just "hoo-dah", similar to the familiar "hoo-ahh" of army life. After a few weeks we had the term down. "Hoo-dah" became the word, and it meant almost everything important to say conversationally to loving dogs, the meaning conveyed by tone, volume, emphasis, and body language. A loud and exhuberant "hoo-dah" meant "Hello, I'm home and glad to see you!" and invariably resulted in a happy Clayton bounding to greet me. A quiet and contemplative "hoo-dah" meant "you are such a wonderful friend" and resulted in a tail wag and sometimes a loving tungue-touch on my hand. Until now, the one thing it has not meant was good by and farewell.

Hoo-dah, my friend.

Commuting Chronicles 3

Commuting and Riding in Tucson

(Originally posted to tal-rides on July 25, 2007)

This past week we (wife Kathy and I) were in Tucson visiting daughter Laurel's family: hubby Mike, daughter Daphne, and another girl WELL on the way. (They all say "hi" to you who know them.) They live in the old barrio just south of downtown. Mike bought 1/2 block there when they were practically giving it away as urban renewal and built some adobe residences where they now call home. The area is well on the way to gentrification, meaning good cafes, pubs, and bistros within walking distance, but retains a lot of the barrio flavor. It's a very interesting area to visit.

Commuting

Mike has a business (Geosystems Analysis, Inc) located about 5 miles away, and he commutes by bike. I rode with him a couple of times. He hops on the Santa Cruz River Bikeway a few blocks from home, rides north along the river all the way to his offices, where he can exit the bikeway, cross a parking lot, and he's there. The only streets he has to share with motorized vehicles are the 3-4 blocks from home to the bikeway. It is as if our St Marks trail took you from, say, a residence in Midtown to a business near the airport, something like that.

On both of these trips, I saw a lot of wildlife, including each time a Road Runner. I even passed the RR once. This has to be harder than passing a Harley, right?

This is an unbelievable commute. Mike sometimes takes Daphne to school, too, which means a few more blocks on city streets. School was out so I didn't get to lurk along on that part, but I did ride those streets and they are quite calm. Daphne rides in a seat he mounts on the rear rack of the bike, or sometimes in a Burley trailer.

Laurel works out of home and bike commutes to the YMCA (workouts, including swimming) and some shopping. She also takes Daphne to the Y for a swim, by bike.

The Guest Bike

They now have a guest bike in my size. I have had one for a while that Mike rides when in TLH, so they knew that a spare bike for him would also work for me. (xcpt the gears - I mentioned something about liking low gears for the hills, they said "oh, it has very low gears, all you should need" - 39x23 was the lowest. Oh well. I'll treat the guest bike to a compact crank on the next trip.)
But what a luxury to have a guest bike when you visit. I recommend this practice to everyone. It's a great excuse to get yourself another bike and keep the current one for guests. It's great for you, great for guests, great for the bike shop, all around greatness. Be a good host: buy more bikes!

Other Rides

There are some excellent rides from downtown Tucson. Even leaving from city center, it is not hard at all to get out quickly. (I can't figure out how this is so. Tucson is considerably larger in population than TLH, but it seems much more comfortable to get to good riding from downtown.)
My favorite is the loop that goes through Tucson Mountain Park and Old Tucson and returns by climbing Gates Pass (about like Wolf Pen Gap, only desert). [That was REAL fun on the 39x23.] The main loop is about 30 miles, plus 10 if you add the extension through Saguaro National Park and the Arizona Desert Museum. Quiet roads, interesting hilly terrain, and amazing desert scenery. You can make a day of it by stopping at the Desert Museum. (Do the all day trip in spring, fall, or winter.)
Summer riding starts early in AZ. They don't do daylight savings time, so it is light at 5:00am, and of course HOT by 10:00am. Best rides are 5:00 - 8:00am. But that works for us - just stay on Tallahassee time, and the ride is 8:00am - 11:00am, as far as your sleep cycle can tell.

Cisterns

Laurel just had two cisterns installed that catch the roof runoff for use as water for the yard and possibly an outdoor shower. This makes a lot of sense in AZ, which is coming out of its unusually wet last few decades. At first I didn't get it. Water is water. But the point (she says) is that watering plants using municipal water means using ground water (i.e., well water from the aquifer) for a surface water job. The ground water that goes down the sewer is recycled by pumping back to the aquifer after treatment, but if you pour it on the ground it is essentially transferred to the surface system. Rainwater on the other hand is surface water, so pouring it on the ground is keeping it in the same system. I think I got this right.

[Laurel's comment, added: Well, not quite. The main point of harvesting rain water is to prevent its loss through evaporation (and mosquito breeding), which is the fate of much storm runoff in Tucson. This leads to the secondary purpose which is to minimize the mining (and associated costs) of the underground water on which we depend for basic living. The third perk is that plants love rain – not chlorinated, comparatively salty groundwater.

Uncaptured stormwater runs off into the Santa Cruz Riverbed (as you witnessed) or other washes where it then either infiltrates into the groundwater system or evaporates. Infiltration is the only way that our aquifer gets replenished, but by capturing potentially evaporated water, we effectively create a new source.]

Visiting Christine & Marty

An old friend of Laurel's is back in Tucson as President of Genuine Innovations, makers of various CO2 inflation systems. I met Marty several years ago, back when he was supporting his competitive cycling doing the product rep thing. Now settled, he and wife Christine remain gifted and dedicated athletes, on top of their bigger life responsibilities.

We all went to their home and met the 3 boys, the youngest being less than a week old. The middle boy is Daphne's age, and they take swim class together. It was a nice visit, their boys are boys, fer sure. Looks like they'll have a pro golfer, an NFL linebacker, and maybe a cyclist, although the 5-day-old is a little young to evaluate. I was duly impressed with the new one, of course, of course.

I was also impressed with the bike shop Marty has set up, taking the space where a more typical AZ family would keep the second car. They have about 7 bikes, down from 17 they brought in when they moved from California to Genuine Innovations. The shop has good working space, pro-level tools, and the top-line Park work stand, the one with the massive metal plate base. Marty has mounted this onto a low wooden frame on low-profile castors, so he can easily move the stand to the center of the shop for work but roll it out of the way otherwise. Good idea, and it works. The shop is also well organized, neat, and clean, so projects start right up.

Marty commutes every day from his home to work at the GI HQ near the Tucson airport - a good 7-8 miles on city roads. His commuter is a Surly Cross Check with 700-32 tires. We agreed that having off-road-capable tires on a commuter is an under-rated safety feature, allowing you to concentrate on traffic, not so much on minor road hazards, and also escape more easily. Cyclocross bikes are excellent for commuting.

Wile E Biker Recommends

If you get a chance, visit Tucson and do some biking. Even pretending to commute is fun. And where else can you ride a good gap and see a road runner the same day?

Commuting Chronicles 2

Blue Collar Cyclists

(Originally posted Spring 2007 to tal-rides)

In my first post last November, I described how my commute to Panama City from Tallahassee works, and also told a scary story about strange noises and a very angry (if not rabid) raccoon. Here is post 2:

First, a review of my commute (skip this if you've read CC1)

1. From my home on Lake Shore Drive, I cycle to the FSU campus where a commuter van departs about 3:15pm for Panama City. This van is for faculty who teach in PC, unfortunately not for students. The van operators allow me to put my bike on the van, in the back, behind all the seats.

2. The van lets us all out at the FSU campus in Panama City. There I wheel to my office and prepare for teaching a night class, 5:00 - 7:30pm Central time.

3. After class and the usual talking with students and other things, I saddle up for my other "home". This ride takes me over the Hathaway bridge to Panama City Beach and west to Beckrich Rd. My home-away-from-home is near Beckrich and Hutchison. This part of the ride is at night.

Total on bike: about 12 miles (5 in TLH and 7 in PC).

Three days later, I reverse everything, with the night leg the return trip from FSU back to Lake Shore.

Night Riders

This has been a very good experience. Of course, I feel very, very "hip" by managing to commute 112 miles without using a personal powered vehicle. But more, it is FUN. There is no better word. Riding in an urban setting is exciting (sometimes more than exciting), and it makes me feel powerful inside myself to know I have the skills and toughness to survive without a fear meltdown. I also meet interesting other wildlife. (Ref the raccoon story.)

Particularly interesting is how many people are out and about on bicycles, at night. I have talked to a few, and my overall impression is that these are folks who did not take up cycling because they fell in love with it in a spin class. These are DUIers and people who have to choose between a car and a roof over their head (and over their family's heads).

But another impression I have is that they have come to enjoy using the bike, for many of the reasons I enjoy it. The only negative I have had expressed is that their "friends" (meaning, I think, people they work with) tease them about using a bike - "Hey Garcia, where's your truck?"

Commuting Chronicles 1

Halloween Commute

(Originally posted to "tal-rides" on November 3, 2006)

I have been doing an unusual commute this year, and looking for a good reason to tell about it. It happened Oct 31, 2006 - yes, on Halloween. It was scary, and I'm not making it up. But first, I get to bore you with the spec sheet on my commute.

I have a job teaching for FSU at the campus in Panama City, FL. Having been here in Tallahassee a long time, and after checking out the life style we'd be changing over to in PC, we decided to keep the homestead here on Lake Shore Drive and get a small second home in PC for me to use during the week. It seemed like a plus that kids, grandkids, etc, would have a place to stay if they wanted a weekend at the beach.

FSU runs a van service, from main campus in TLH to branch campus in PC. This supports mainly the faculty who teach an occasional class in PC on top of their usual classes here in TLH. But it also works for me. I can catch the van at 3:15pm on Mon or Tue and take it back to TLH on Thu evening. Once I got a bike set up with lights and a way to tote a few things, here is the commute:

On Mon or Tue: Depart Lake Shore on the bike about 2:45pm, arrive main campus about 3:10. The van operators let me put the bike on the van (behind all the passenger seats), so I load up and depart about 3:15. We arrive in PC about 4:30pm central time. I unload the bike, roll to my office, get ready for class at 5:00. (A plus is that I can get work done on the van.) After class and dealing with related matters, usually about 9:30pm central, I get my stuff on the bike and head out to our mini-home in Panama City Beach, near the intersection of Beckrich and Hutchison (aka Middle Beach Road). This part of the commute takes me over the Hathaway Bridge and thence (like a roach, scurrying but surviving among the dominant critters) through a succession of sidewalks (on 4-lanes with a curb but no shoulder) and poorly lit back streets to "home". Total miles: about 12 on the bike, 100 in the van. The 7 miles in PC are at night.

Then this is reversed on Thu or Fri: cycle to the FSU/PC campus, teach, then take the van back to FSU/TLH, then the bike home to Lake Shore. This time, the ride through the pleasant and relatively traffic-free back streets of Frenchtown are at night. Even the last part, on N Monroe and Lake Shore, work fine. I think that I am actually more visible, hence safer, at night than during the day.

The most important safety device, for me, is my mirror. I'd give up the rest, in this order, before the mirror: helmet, front light, tail light.

OK, if you made it this far through the boring specs of my commute, here's a story. True story.

I did this commute from Tallahassee to Panama City on Oct 31. The night part of the trip takes me along one particularly lonely stretch of urban/blight that is common in beach towns, places where the old dwellings of trailers are becoming abandoned but the properties haven't yet made it to condo status. There is also a large wooded tract on one side of this street. No street lights here. OK, I was peddling along, not too fast because of the lighting, when I heard a truly chilling scream from the woods. I could not tell whether it was human or other animal, but it was definitely not artificial. After a few seconds of alarm, I remembered it was Halloween and decided it must be kids making scary noises. (They were doing a very good job.)

This theory began to look bad almost immediately, because the screaming was moving - toward me, in the woods, at a pace I could not really believe would be kids. OK, back to being alarmed. Just then "it" emerged from the woods about 10 feet behind me. It was a large (I guess about 150 lbs) raccoon. It was not happy. And it seemed to think I was the reason for its unhappiness.

I had to go into full avoidance mode. I would MUCH rather be overtaken by a dog than this thing. I envisioned it hanging to my ankle all the way home, and maybe from there to the emergency room.

It's amazing how fast a 66 year old with a weight problem can accelerate under these circumstances.