Welcome to Iceland

Introducing Cinderella, another new rover reporter for Greyhound Gardens.

The life of a greyhound is greyt.

As a puppy, you get to play with your brothers and sisters for the first year of your life. You go to school, get a job and then you retire.

So, just like all of the other greyhounds I went to work but I didn't take it as seriously as I should have. I really just wanted to play with my friends. Retirement was in my future. In November I got the official announcement, I was going to Greyhound Gardens.

Sounds like a paradise, doesn't it? Visions of green lush pastures, waterfalls and sweet smelling flowers danced in my head. I pranced around the kennel bragging to everyone that I was going to Greyhound Gardens.

Boy oh boy was I ever sold a bill of goods. This is what I woke up to this morning.

"Time to go out" were almost my very first words. Yippee! I thought. The door opened and I dashed out in anticipation of racing around with my new friends. I stopped dead in my tracks, looked out and thought, "What the ..."

What I saw was a white ice field, three frozen water bowls and a couple of dead-looking trees.


Ok, so it wasn't lush green pastures, the sand was whiter and colder than normal. So off I went. Surely this is a joke.

Nope, not a joke.

This is Greyhound Gardens. I'm freezing my ass off.

Haven't even been home for 12 hours yet and I want to go back to Florida. I promise to pull my own weight.

To all of my friends back at the kennel in Florida, a word of advice. Read the fine print before you sign your adoption contract.