Greyhound Racing

Reeder prefers not to work with adoption groups at tracks to match greyhounds with new homes. "We don't want to enable breeders and track owners. We have all we can handle with street dogs," she says. Reeder urges people who find abandoned greyhounds not to trace them back to the owners. "If they go back to the breeders, that's a death sentence," she says.

When Thiel posts messages on Greyhound L, the most well-known greyhound listserv, discussion gets heated and Thiel gets flamed. Thiel sees the recent push by greyhound breeders toward adoption as disingenuous public relations.

"Adoption groups are cleaning up the greyhound industry's mess," she says. Her impact has been greatest in the Northeast, where animal rights can be a legitimate political issue. Texas is, of course, different. "I'm not sure what impact the cruelty issue has on the debate in Texas, but it's not like animal welfare is foreign to the state." Thiel thinks greyhound racing is a culturally atavistic sport that's on its way out.

While some Texas politicians have tried to help expand gambling at Texas racetracks, a coalition of conservative Christian groups and animal rights groups have come together to defeat it.

As a lobbyist for the Christian Life Coalition, Suzii Paynter doesn't seem like the kind of person who would have a lot in common with animal rights activists, but on the subject of dog racing, she sounds like she could be speaking for PETA.

"There's been a change in our perception of animals. We don't use pets for work anymore," she says. She cites a "cultural dissonance" between the greyhound industry and the rest of America. She mentions the outrage over Atlanta Falcons quarterback Michael Vick's involvement with dog fighting as evidence that "most people won't tolerate cruelty of animals in sports."

The idea that there is some sort of parallel between dog racing and dog fighting infuriates greyhound racers, trainers and breeders. "My dogs get treated better than most people's pets," says Tuddy Dietz, a breeder with a greyhound farm near Seguin.

At Dietz's greyhound farm, there are air-conditioned kennels and runs for puppies. The dogs eat raw meat and grain. They're turned out six times a day and receive constant attention from his two employees.

At the track, the Texas Racing Commission has a staff of vets that oversee the condition of kennels. The state-appointed vets check each dog before the race, making sure it's healthy and drug-free. After the race, the dogs can cool down in a bath. Racing director Ebbs insists that out of 50,000 starts last year at Gulf, vets euthanized "three or four" dogs.

West is a little suspicious about groups like Reeder's. "We all get a little temperamental about the term 'rescue,'" he says. "We feel like we work hard to adopt out these dogs."

One Houston-area breeder, who National Greyhound Association president Gary Guccione said had plans to guarantee a 100 percent adoption rate of his dogs, has backed away from his program. Guccione said that the breeder would be a good person with whom to discuss the positive changes happening in the industry.

The breeder thought otherwise. "Things in the greyhound industry just keep getting worse," he said, "but I've got my whole life invested in it. I've spent almost $50,000 on some of my dogs. They get treated better than people. But talking about it will start a war with the animal rights people and I don't want to go there."

Attacks from the animal rights people get Dennis McKeon hot under the collar. McKeon can talk very eloquently for hours about genetics, phenotypes and greyhound history dating from ancient Egypt. He's slept in crates with dogs to understand what makes them tick. McKeon has retired from training now and devotes a lot of time to researching greyhound bloodlines.

But what really gets him going is the stereotype of greyhound breeders as "dull-witted country bumpkins," as he puts it. "The most disgusting thing about the animal rights movement is the stereotyping of people. It's ideologically driven."

Long-time bettors Mel Cornett and Jack Regan have been coming to Gulf Greyhound since it opened. They've seen the decline in purses firsthand. The pair met as tennis partners years ago and look nothing like the "country bumpkin" stereotype McKeon mentions. Cornett is a well-groomed, nattily dressed petroleum engineer. He wears wire-rim glasses and takes a studied approach to the dogs. Regan, with his gruff New England accent, black eyebrows and gray beard, looks like he could play a decent Captain Ahab on screen.