Tate came to us in fall 2010, after we had to put our other greyhound, Oliver, to sleep due to his aggressive osteo sarcoma.
We were sitting in our living room, minding our own business, when we got a call from Cheryl Bennett, telling us that she had the dog for us. He who would be named Tate was a GAL dog, who had been recused after 8 races when he broke a hock. Sadly, he was languishing in the kennel that the rescue group shared with GAL, alone, month after month.
Upon hearing that Oliver had to cross the bridge, she thought of us immediately, and when she called, we knew we were screwed.
He who shall be named Tate was adopted by Cheryl, and fostered with her menagerie. We got to meet him one evening, and we were smitten. He was a big apricot brindle boy, energetic, and super friendly. Oliver was a spook when we adopted him, and Tate was 180 degrees opposite.
Of course, we had a few things to attend to before we formally adopted him (my sister’s wedding), and Cheryl wanted to do the house breaking foster time.
The next two weeks flew by, and we were anxious to take Tate home. Little did we know what fun we were in for.
Tate came to us wearing a T-shirt, to cover the staples. Apparently, he was roughhousing with Cheryl’s Great Dane, and tore open his skin in his “armpit“.
Yes, Tate was super playful, and high energy. Our trips to the dog park were exciting, as Tate was super energetic.