Because… Compassion Has No Loopholes


There’s a battle being waged in Florida by the compassionate people who’ve witnessed the abuse of greyhounds for decades and are rising up against it.  They’re the people who have picked up the pieces left behind by those who exploit these sweet dogs for profit.  These large dogs are confined in small cages and muzzled for up to 23 hours a day.  Lab reports have proven they’re often drugged to race and statistics show that a greyhound dies on a racetrack every three days in Florida.  The vote to end greyhound racing in Florida is on November 6th.  #YESon13!

I often wonder how some people can sit at home and love their dog more than anything in the world and not make the connection with dogs who are mistreated and exploited.  When Emma Haswell was a young girl, living in Tasmania, Australia, she had an experience with a greyhound that changed her life and caused her to become a hero for animals.  I profile Emma in my new book, Rescuing Ladybugs.  I’m pleased to share the connection with one outcast soul who changed Emma’s life and put her on a course to change the world.

Ross, Tasmania, Australia

“The first animal I had a relationship with was a little crossbred dog called Minnie. She looked a bit like a monkey. Her hair was brown, wild, and wiry, and she had two rows of teeth on the bottom. I’d dress her up in clothes and put bonnets on her, and she’d lie on her back in the pram, while I wheeled her around my grandmother’s garden. She was gentle, patient, and kind. She was everything to me.

I was raised in the city of Launceston, Tasmania, but I actually grew up in the country because that was where my love was, with the farm animals. My maternal grandparents had an eight-thousand-acre farm in a town called Ross, and I spent as much time as I could there. My grandfather was different to other farmers. He had a high regard for animals and would go to extraordinary lengths to find the mothers of lost lambs. He was unique that way and encouraged me to be the same way.

I was fortunate to have lots of pets growing up: rabbits, dogs, a cat, a bantam, a magpie, a lamb called Mary, and a pony named Allegro. Allegro had been a stock horse, used on the farm. I rode her without a saddle, bridle, or halter. We’d go to the beach, just me and a naked horse. I’d put my arms out as if I was flying, close my eyes, and gallop the beach with her.

My first connection with an animal who wasn’t my own pet hap- pened when I was around six years old. There was a workman on my grandfather’s farm who had two dogs, including a little Jack Russell called Sweetie, whom he clearly adored. He also had a greyhound named Flash who was chained to a tin A-frame shelter on the side of a hill, far away from any houses, where the cold wind blew mercilessly.

Flash was brindled, a tan color with dark, zebra-like streaks, and she was small for a greyhound. I was strictly forbidden to go near her because my grandparents told me she’d bite. I ignored them and would sneak up the hill, sit down next to her, and pet her for hours. She was gentle, sensitive, quiet, and lonely. She was the first animal I’d ever met who was clearly sad, unloved, and destitute. She had nothing — not even a bed or hay to sleep on. I was told Flash was a hunting dog, but I never saw her off the chain, ever. She was there for years. I knew she was suffering terribly, and I knew that there was absolutely nothing I could do to help her.

In contrast, the old man who owned her loved his other dog, Sweetie. That dog was his life. She went to work with him on the farm every day and was always at his feet. She had the best life with him. She was adored, and I just couldn’t comprehend how he loved Sweetie so much yet neglected Flash so terribly. I often thought of what it was like for Flash to look down from that hill and watch all the other animals having a good life.

After visiting Flash for a couple of years, I turned up at the farm one day and she was gone. I asked where she was but no one would tell me. Today I believe she’d been taken away and shot.

My experience with Flash was the first and the only time during my childhood that I witnessed such poor treatment of an innocent animal. It took two separate events, many years later, to trigger me to take action for animals the way I’d wanted to take action for Flash.”  ~Emma Haswell, Brightside Farm Sanctuary

You can read more of Emma’s story in the book, Rescuing Ladybugs:  Inspirational Encounter with Animals That Changed the World.

And please, if you live in Florida, vote YES on 13 to finally end greyhound racing for the love of all.  #compassioninaction

Photo courtesy:  Alex Cearns,, of Pixel the greyhound.

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