“After their bellies are full, they always sing,” said Torri Morris, the adoption coordinator for the Rocky Mountain Greyhound Adoption (RMGA) just outside of the compound’s largest kennel.

The short yelps echo the longer howls, and the chorus harmonizes until Morris starts to sing along. The greyhounds come out to greet her in what seems like a split second.

“The first time I went to a kennel, I was hooked,” Morris said. “I married into it. That was 1986.”

The kennels at RMGA span 14 acres which include a “practice track” and a building constructed from donations where all the greyhounds available for adoption can stay warm on brisk days.

Morris wanders from kennel to kennel as she finishes her morning chores and greets every dog as if she’s just returned from a long vacation.

She shuts the gate behind her as she enters Sierra’s kennel. Sierra has a brindle coat with an underbelly as white as milk. “There are not many dogs that I didn’t like when they were puppies,” Morris said. “She jumped on me one day and actually split my lip. I forgave her though, didn’t I, girl?”

Morris devotes every second she has to the dogs at the rescue, about three miles east of Brighton, CO, on highway seven. She races, breeds, and finds homes for the dogs when she’s not eating or sleeping. The recent closure of the greyhound racetrack in Commerce City made her task of taking care of 20 to 40 dogs on any given day that much more daunting.

The folks at RMGA have many hills to climb with their retired racers and their new litters. In some states, greyhound racing has been outlawed because of poor gambling practices and animal cruelty. In others, like Colarado, Morris worries that the racers will be exploited on television with live broadcast of races to places like Las Vegas.

If the races are televised and sent to the big gambling towns, Morris and the shelter see less money for their dog’s efforts. Localizing the sport and straying away from its negative connotations help shelters like RMGA stay afloat.

“It’s scary. The last thing I want to do is see my dogs get hurt,” Morris said.

When Morris finishes her morning chores, she changes out of her “poop clothes” and into vet-esque scrubs, readying herself for prospective adopters.

Inside, Judith Lutsky fills 28 water bowls, each with beveled, chewed edges, and places them next to each dog’s bed.

“Every dog has a story,” Lutsky said. “Now, it’s just a matter of letting everyone know what that story is.”

The greyhounds rarely bark when “Auntie Judith” is giving them their water. Lutsky devotes as much time as Morris to the dogs and dresses up every Christmas and Easter to pose with the racers for fundraisers and pictures.

Morris is in her scrubs, flipping through a rolodex of fading Kodaks and taking a rare break.

“That’s Dynamite. Needless to say, she was in the back of the pack, so she’s in a home now,” Morris said.

“Yeah. There’s Dynamite in last again,” said Sonya Decman, a frequent volunteer at RMGA.

“I tell [the photographers] ‘you don’t have to send me pictures when they’re last,’” Morris said.

The dogs sing again. Morris hustles back to a coffin freezer full of 15 and 30-pound beef bricks. She balances on her navel as she dunks her head into the bottom of it and pulls out two 30 pounders. She flops them on a cart with little effort.

“When the track closed, my supplier called me and said, ‘what’s it going to do to your order?’” she said. “And it cut mine in half because I just couldn’t keep the racers here.”

Although many of the dogs up for adoption are retired racers, some have never raced a day in their lives. They are just looking for a home.

At RMGA, adopters are asked to fill out minimal paperwork and visit the compound for an interview with Morris. Once Morris decides that “her dogs” are going on to a good home, the new family can take the dog to the play area, where it can show its stuff.

Mickey Mcintosh and her partner Cherie volunteer every Saturday to spend time with the dogs. Mickey takes Dream, the most anxious retiree, out to the play area. She hocks a well-chewed boomerang into a far corner.

Dream, starting from a standstill, leaves a cloud of dust that doesn’t settle by the time she returns with the boomerang in her mouth. She does it three more times before her tongue starts to reach the ground.

“There’re a few things you’ve gotta know before you bring the dogs out here,” Mickey said. “It’s hard to have them run side by side because they’re always in competition. They might get carried away and break their legs.”

Dream pants near a hole in the fence where she watches her neighbor wear herself out. Mickey points to the back of Dream’s bloody, muscular legs. “See? They have pads here that can scab off when they sprint and stop.”

Back inside the compound, Mickey and Decman clean the dog’s tattered scabs with a spray bottle of peroxide. “You don’t even notice, do ya?” Decman said as she rubs Dreams leg with a paper towel.

Dream doesn’t flinch.

Morris, still busy defrosting a pile of beef, rarely lets you know how tired she is. Her goal is to see all her dogs in good homes. She likes racing them and breeding them, but she understands that she can’t do this forever.

“I’m a little kennel and I only have three employees,” she said. “A lot of them have six or seven people.”

“Full-time people,” said Decman.

“And full-time in the dog business isn’t like 40 hours a week,” Morris said. “It’s like 80 hours.”

Did you know?

The average cost for adopting a pure-bred greyhound is $110.

Greyhounds sleep an average of 20 hours a day.

Greyhounds can sprint up to 40 MPH for 40 seconds. That’s on pace with a quarter horse.

Forty-six greyhound racing tracks operate in 15 states.