In 2004, my husband and I adopted a small Italian greyhound mix. We didn’t know his age but we were sure he was an older guy. His teeth were in bad shape and he kind of walked around as if he were holding a cane. We named him Dasher because of his long legs and his several attempts to “dash” out the front door. As cute as he was, we soon discovered that he had teeth like Jaws and was ready and willing to bite our hands off at any time. (more…)