Today is two years since we brought Ida home. When we first met her, she had a thick coat from having to sleep on concrete her whole life. Later, we learned she had infections in both ears that had gone untreated for months, and a racing injury that had never been looked after.

For the first few months, she slept a lot. She was only really affectionate in the time immediately after she got fed, when she would slowly lumber up to me and stick my head in her chest. It became clear that she was only used to having 10 minutes or so of human contact each day

But it wasn't long after that she became Ida. We discovered she had a great sense of humour, and also chaos -- she would delight in fucking up the rugs I carefully laid down so her claws didn't scratch the wooden floors. She also met Pig, who she adored killing.

Ida’s favourite things are the soft pretzel we sometimes get from the cafe around the corner, bananas, going to my parent’s place in the car, and sleeping. She changed my life, and I love her to pieces.

Also I joke a lot about people in the greyhound racing industry being scum, but I don’t really know how else to describe people that profit from the torture of animals. Ida’s trainers swore to me they loved her, but also never got her dislocated shoulder looked at

... and fed her a diet that was making her ill. They also retired her at 2 and then kept her in a cage for 9 years, presumably to keep her as a blood dog — greyhounds have universal blood type, which means their blood is very valuable. It was recently discovered some

Doctors around the world were putting greyhounds down by “draining them” to death. It’s a barbaric, wontonly cruel industry. So scum is the word, I think!