Fighting for greyhounds: a case study: attempts to ban dog racing in Massachusetts hit a wall of industry opposition. But some reforms crossed the finish line nevertheless - Special Report - Cover Story

Animals, Wntr-Spring, 2003 by Pamela H. Sacks

All through this past summer, Robin Norton was eagerly awaiting word on whether she had been awarded a grant from the newly formed Retired Greyhound Care and Adoption Council. Norton was excited about the possibilities brought to life by the council, which had been created as the result of a provision in a $5 million aid bill passed in 2001 to keep struggling racetracks in Massachusetts afloat.

She knew that $350,000--a percentage of the annual proceeds from the state's two dog tracks--would be available for grants, and she had asked for $68,000 to cover the annual operating costs for her rescue group, GreysLand Greyhound Adoption.

Each year, Norton finds homes for roughly 45 greyhounds that are no longer of use to the racing industry because they are injured, beyond their prime, or simply not capable of winning. Many are no more than four years old when they reach the end of their racing careers and become a perceived liability. Some are far younger. The grant money would make all the difference to Norton because it would cover the cost of food, spaying or neutering, and basic veterinary care for the relatively fit dogs among her clientele. This would free up resources for the ones needing special care.

Norton has taken an extra step among greyhound rescue groups by specializing in caring for dogs with broken legs, a common injury among racing greyhounds--and one that is often neglected because there is no financial gain in repairing the injury. These dogs are either euthanized or the leg is wrapped and allowed to heal unset. The dog is then turned over to a rescue group. Norton has made arrangements with trainers to take these dogs immediately after the injury, while there is still time for surgery that can spare the animal permanent impairment. But the procedure often costs $800 per animal.

"There's a lot of neglect of the dogs in the industry," Norton says. "I'm a Band-Aid on a huge wound." Working out of her home in Hopkinton, Massachusetts, Norton keeps a kennel that holds nine dogs and places other refugees in foster homes. She is sometimes driven to tears because she has to turn greyhounds away for lack of space.

Even the cautious optimism she and her fellow advocates have entertained about dog racing's dying a natural death has become clouded. Once highly popular and profitable, greyhound racing has been in steep decline across the country, under siege from giant Indian casinos, lotteries, and gambling boats that ply the offshore waters. At the same time, many more people have become aware of the animal-welfare issues raised by the industry. They are demanding that the dogs receive humane treatment and adequate veterinary care and that they be placed in good homes when their competitive days are over. But some of these gains might be wiped away if the state legislature expands gambling and the tracks add slot machines to become "racinos."

Several animal-protection organizations, including the Massachusetts Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (MSPCA), are countering with educational campaigns about the exploitation that is an inherent part of the racing circuit. "In the greyhound industry, animals are commodities that are bred and kept and disposed of for all things financial," says Carter Luke, vice president for animal protection at the MSPCA. "There is nothing related to companionship in that at all. From breeding to care to use to end of use, it is for one purpose: speed and earning money. When this use is no longer viable, the animal is disposed of."

Back in November 2000, greyhound advocates in Massachusetts were feeling the sting of defeat. A group called Grey2K, led by Carey M. Theil, a young, energetic Oregonian, had waged a campaign to outlaw greyhound racing through a ballot initiative. In response, the industry poured more than $1 million into TV commercials and ads stressing that 1,500 jobs at the two tracks, Wonderland and Raynham-Taunton, would be lost, along with $10 million in pari-mutuel betting and other taxes. The industry claimed that Grey2K was using photographs of hurt and emaciated greyhounds from other states to make its case and that Massachusetts dogs were healthy and well treated. The initiative was narrowly defeated, 51 percent to 49 percent.

In the aftermath, animal protectionists analyzed what went wrong and considered their next step.

Grey2K, advocates assert, had not been deceptive in displaying photographs of burned, injured, and starved dogs at tracks in other states. Both Luke and Theil maintain that the industry is national in scope, so there is no such thing as a "Massachusetts dog." The federal Animal Welfare Act does not cover the dog racing idustry, so oversight falls to state racing commissions.

For the most part, the dogs are bred on farms in the South and Midwest and sent to kennels owned by one or more investors. Theil estimates that there are 12 to 15 kennels of varying sizes serving each of the tracks in Massachusetts. Trainers operate the kennels and act as the dogs' caretakers, preparing the greyhounds to race and entering them in competitions.