One Woman Met a Stray Dog — And Changed Everything for a Forgotten Breed

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A galgo, or Spanish hunting dog, stands in the road
This is a galgo, a traditional hunting dog in Spain. This one recently retired — and then got dumped on the road. Galgos del Sol

Sometimes, it takes a stranger to see the ghosts that have long haunted a place.

In 2007, that stranger was Tina Solera. She had just moved to Murcia, a city in southeastern Spain. And during a walk, she came across a spectral figure: a tattered dog, walking wounded among piles of trash.

The sight filled her not with horror, but with a sense of purpose. The connection was instant.

"You know when you just have a feeling, like falling in love, when you can't really describe it and it is just a feeling?" she tells MNN.

"I saw this noble, skinny creature walking down the street, so elegant but so skinny and abused but still wonderful. I just fell in love and thought, 'Wow, that is a beautiful creature.'"

A disregarded sight

But for so many others, the dog belonging to an ancient breed called galgo, was still a ghost — a kind of silent scar that's seen, and yet not seen in cities throughout the country.

Spanish galgos do have their day. But it's short, brutish and stingy on the sunlight. The animals are prized in hunting tournaments, renowned for their ability to track small prey like rabbits. And, like the proverbial rabbit, galgos are bred feverishly by their hunting owners, known as galgueros.

Three galgos on chains alongside their owner.
At tournaments, galgos chase hares on an enclosed track. Galgos del Sol

For a couple of years, they're swapped around the community — spending most of their time in tiny windowless shacks or covered pits until released, in a closed track at least, to chase after a hare for their masters.

"And the ones that aren't good in competition will be thrown out," Solera explains. "They'll keep the good ones, breed them and train them for the next season."

But the moment they lose a step — typically after three years — they're deemed disposable.

No one has been keeping exact figures for these ghosts, but Solera estimates anywhere between 60,000 and 80,000 hunting dogs are dumped every year.

A galgo stands in the middle of a dirt road in Spain.
An ancient breed, galgos were once companions to Spanish noblemen. Galgos del Sol

Many are left in the countryside, thrown into deep wells, or killed in a gruesome spectacle. Before it was illegal, galgueros typically hanged the dogs, a twisted reward for faithful service.

"I thought that was crazy," Solera recalls. "These dogs are amazing and are so noble and gentle and even after all of the abuse, they just look at you and want to love you and be loved."

Changing minds, one dog at a time

A galgo lays in a heap of trash.
A discarded galgo pokes his head out from a trash bin. Galgos del Sol

Solera began a crusade to bring these "ghosts" back to the land of the living.

"I lived in a two-bedroom apartment with my little family and that's when I started bringing these dogs home," Solera says.

She says she didn't have a penny when she founded a nonprofit rescue called Galgos del Sol in 2011.

The aim was not only to rehabilitate galgos — as well as another hunting dog mainstay called a podenco — but also to change the culture that treated them with such disregard.

A galgo is pulled form a drainage pipe.
Having almost no human contact, galgos are often difficult to catch. Galgos del Sol

Traditionally seen as hunting dogs, galgos aren't afforded the tender privileges that pet breeds like German shepherds and retrievers get. Solera saw as much when she visited animal shelters where the overwhelming majority of dogs that couldn't find homes were the former hunting dogs.

Galgo puppies laying together.
These puppies, born on the street, had never known human contact until rescuers took them in. Galgos del Sol

"There is so much ignorance around it," Solera adds. "We are trying to get the locals to see what amazing companions they make and start adopting them."

And gradually, that tide has been turning.

A light that's growing brighter

A dog cuddles up to Tina Solera
Solera says former hunting dogs make stalwart, loving companions. Galgos del Sol

Solera, along with a small group of volunteers, visits schools and communities, hoping to instill a sense that these dogs are not tools to be disposed of when no longer in use.

Donations and support also began to flow from around the world. Little by little, she has started seeing fewer ghosts.

"I hardly see any galgos on the street because we got the message out to the galgueros that they just can't dump their dogs," she says. "But if they are responsible, we can help them."

A galgo named Washington looks into the camera
Washington is one of more than 100 rescued dogs looking for a real home. Galgos del Sol

Today, Galgos del Sol cares for some 150 dogs, both galgos and podencos. The group has found happy homes for countless more.

"I have seen a huge improvement in the immediate area," Solera adds. "Before, I couldn't leave the house without seeing a dead galgo every day on the motorway. I don't see that so much now."

The problem persists across the country, but thanks to the efforts of people like Solera, more people are choosing to see these dogs not as hungry ghosts, but as friends in need — and offer them a much-needed hand. Or even a warm bed.

Galgo laying in bed.
It wasn't so long ago that this rescued dog didn't have a home, much less a bed. Galgos del Sol