the lesley osborn blog

Zach was a standard red smooth-coated Dachshund who joined our GREYSETT family at the tender age of six months.  Once again, here's another story about a sweet canine that nobody wanted. I never knew why. All I knew was that he was meant to be with me. He loved food, clearly evident in his photo. The grass reached the top of his legs! Zach was born with an abnormality in his front legs; they weren't completely straight. It didn't impede his mobility for years.  As he aged, he developed increased difficulty walking, spending most of his time relaxing on the furniture. He was as happy as a clam. Who wouldn’t be? He enjoyed his meals on the couch! “So this is GREYSETT: yep, I knew I’d love it here!” Despite his special challenges, he lived a long and happy life with us, crossing the Bridge at the age of 11. Rest in Peace, sweet Zachary. You remain another beautiful memory in our GREYSETT family. —Lesley 💞    P.S. Subscribe to my blog, and feel free to share this stor...

Shadow was the first dog in our family. He was an AKC purebred orange Belton English pup, and I was in kindergarten. I don’t remember much about his early days. I do have pictures of him sitting with my brother, Rich, my dad, and me snuggled on the couch.  My mom didn’t envision that Shadow would become the beginning of Canberra English Setters. He was a family dog. She bought books about grooming and exhibiting English Setters. After reading and practicing, my mom entered him in his first dog show with a book in one hand and Shadow on a show leash in the other. The time frame: the late 1950s. Talk about beginners—both of them! He earned his championship quickly. He was now “Ch. Aspetuck’s Shadow.” Several years later, another English Setter joined our family. I was old enough to remember her story. Enjoy… Mom had English Setter friends in Rhode Island, and they were expecting a litter of puppies. We embarked on an adventure when our pup was old enough to travel. In the 1960s, gett...

There was a small riding stable nearby, and I began taking riding lessons at the age of seven. This was in New York, circa the 1950s. I was riding the school horses available for kids and adults to practice on. One year later, I arrived for my usual lesson.  My instructor greeted me with the following news. She rescued a small dapple grey pony hunter. He was in dreadful condition. “He needs a lot of care, and he’s yours. See what you can do with him, and by the way, nobody else can ride him.” He was a young gelding with a sweet disposition, and I named him Misty. It didn’t take long for a bond to develop. Wherever I went, there was Misty. He was my shadow. He understood me as much as I did him.  I was at the barn every afternoon. Slowly, we began to practice our groundwork. Then came my introduction to fences, and the rest is history! The thrill of jumping is something difficult to describe—you either love it or not, and I loved it! The natural ability to ride a horse at my yo...

My mom and I were expecting Greyhound friends for lunch. The menu was planned, and the table was ready. Several arrived, and we sat and chatted. There was a knock on our front door: Ah ha, the last guest was here. Waiting outside was the president of a Greyhound rescue group, with an unexpected guest wearing a bright yellow collar and leash. SURPRISE! Read along as her story unfolds…  Ruby was nine years old. She was waiting for a home with other senior Greyhounds at another rescue. She was introduced to Mom and me with a name I no longer remember. She didn’t respond to it anyway. I saw a gem, and I named her Ruby. How this senior found herself in any rescue, I never understood. How long she was at the rescue south of me, I never knew. Perhaps she was difficult to place. It’s not uncommon for a group in another location to have a better chance of finding the right home for a particular dog. Ruby was moved from one rescue to another with several others. My inclination was this: No R...

I've always loved Beagles. In 2007, I was in a local Tractor Supply store shopping for dog food. There was a large bulletin board in the back. Naturally, I stopped for a look. Milo's adoption flyer caught my attention.  He was ten years old and living in a senior Beagle/Bassett Hound Sanctuary two hours south of us. I called and scheduled an appointment to meet him. Milo had been adopted and returned many times. Each adopter had a different reason for bringing him back. He did this. He did that, etc. He'd become more comfortable living in this home surrounded by the other seniors no one wanted. He felt safe. When Mom and I arrived, he ran out their back door and into their yard. After a lovely visit with the woman who opened her heart and home to these seniors, Milo was still nowhere to be found. An hour later, with tears in her eyes, she handed him to me. She loved him and didn’t expect him to leave again. My mother did the driving as I held Milo in my arms. He walked into...