Military dogs save lives and provide ‘a little bit of home’ to fellow soldiers

MA 1 First Class Shannon Golden with MWD Talpi

 Opposition forces dread these particular members of the military so much that they pin bounties on their heads.

On average they each save 150 fellow soldiers’ lives during their careers, according to military sources.  They sniff out bombs and hidden combatants. They can parachute, they can rappel, and they can swim.

They provide an invaluable sense of security and peace of mind to the troops with whom they serve, along with things perhaps even more precious: affection, amusement, and, in the words of one soldier, “a little bit of home.”

Who are these dynamos?  A few hints: they wear fur, walk on all fours, and they ask their country for very little in return for their selfless service.

They are called Military Working Dogs, or MWDs.

‘Incredibly valuable resource’

One particularly famous MWD named Cairo helped in the raid on Osama bin Ladin’s compound in Pakistan. But thousands more highly-skilled, hard-working K9s along with their heroic human handlers put their lives on the line every day.

And their ranks are growing.

"The capability they [the dogs] bring to the fight cannot be replicated by man or machine," Gen. David Petraeus, commander of U.S. forces in Afghanistan, told ABC News. "By all measures of performance, their yield outperforms any asset we have in our industry. Our Army would be remiss if we failed to invest more in this incredibly valuable resource."

‘Guardians of the Night’

Last year, while making a short film called Guardians of the Night, I interviewed and filmed a number of these intrepid teams at the dedication of a new Military Working Dog memorial in their honor at Rancho Coastal Humane Society in Encinitas, California.

What struck me most was the tenderness that many of the tough, brawny soldiers feel toward their K9 partners, and how their discussion of those feelings serves as an avenue for them to express other emotions about their dangerous jobs.

And I was moved by the sensitivity of these intelligent young warriors—some of them already veterans of several battles— whose eyes sometimes well up with tears as they describe what their Military Working Dog partners mean to them.

In the words of Debbie Kandoll, founder of Military Working Dog Adoptions, “Many soldiers have their todays and tomorrows because of what a Military Working Dog did for them yesterday.”

Watch Guardians of the Night.

Learn how to adopt a retired MWD.


ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS (unless otherwise noted) 

COPYRIGHT 2012

Dear Reader, 

The Dozen Dog Diaries (DDD) would be delighted if you'd spread the links to these articles. Please just keep in mind that reprint or re-post of more than a paragraph or two of the text or of any of the photos is allowable only by explicit permission from DDD, who may be contacted at youradopteddogATyahooDOTcom. Thanks for visiting!

How many dogs can you pack into a Greek gas station? No funny punch line for this joke

Magnificent giant hobbled by pain

(Please see previous post about Handsome.)

While preparing for our trip from the Greek island of Kefalonia to Athens, where my foster girl Diamandi would depart for her new life in Denmark thanks to rescue group Graeske Hunde, I had thrown some extra dog food into the car, just in case we met someone like the tall, good-looking, and malnourished dog who was now pleading for it.

Handsome looked astonished when I emptied a can onto a paper plate and set it down for him.  For a couple of seconds he just blinked at me, then he glanced at Diamandi, as if asking for permission.

When neither of us objected, he dove in and within seconds had tucked away every last morsel.

A patron of the gas station sipped coffee at an outdoor table nearby, looking almost as astonished as the dog. Funny foreigners, I could hear him thinking.

But anyone who rescues animals is completely accustomed to being stared at in gaping surprise—you’ll often have an audience—so that was nothing new.

In a giant's shadow

By now 25 minutes had passed since Diamandi and I had arrived at the gas station, and I could hear a clock ticking in my head, warning that we still had a long drive to Athens.

Just as I opened the car door for Diamandi to get in, a shadow fell over her.  The source was a tall, white body—even taller than Handsome’s. He walked by cautiously, just a couple of meters away, hobbling in obvious pain.

I hurried Diamandi into the car and shut the door, unsure of what the new dog might do.  But it soon became clear that he wasn’t going to do anything.  He looked too hungry, and too injured.

A big bald patch of skin on his hip told a disturbing tale about this dog’s past and condition. But I couldn’t know what that tale was.

Bald patch of skin on gorgeous Gigantas

And next in line…

Just as I decided to go into the gas station building to ask about Gigantas (Giant), as I’d named him, and his companion Handsome, in the background behind them a third one slid into view.

A terrier mix, she looked so much like a white version of Sophia, one of my own girls at home in California, that my breath caught.

It’s hard enough to see dogs in need, but when they remind you of your own, it’s brutal.

Aspri Sophia (White Sophia) had full teats and a haggard look, making me suspect there might be a litter of puppies nearby.

Of all the gas stations to pick, having tried so hard to avoid those with dogs hanging around, I seemed to have chosen the one with the highest number of them, offering the highest potential for heartbreak.

Please check this page again soon for more about Handsome, Gigantas, and Aspri Sophia, along with other dogs and assorted humans.

PLEASE NOTE:  The place where I saw Handsome and his companions is an "Aegean" gas station on the main highway between Kyllini and Patras, near the turn-off for the village of Varda, in Greece. If you're in the area or know someone who is and who might be able to help, please contact me at youadopteddogATyahooDOTcom.

ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS (unless otherwise noted) 

COPYRIGHT 2012

Dear Reader, 

The Dozen Dog Diaries (DDD) would be delighted if you'd spread the links to these articles. Please just keep in mind that reprint or re-post of more than a paragraph or two of the text or of any of the photos is allowable only by explicit permission from DDD, who may be contacted at youradopteddogATyahooDOTcom. Thanks for visiting!

Tall, handsome, and hungry: dog at Kyllini-area gas station needs help

Inquisitive eye contact asking for food and love

Many of us spend a significant portion of our lives feeling sorry for ourselves.  From now on, whenever I start moping, I’ll remember the dogs of Kyllini.

In early May, while driving ex-street dog Diamandi from Kefalonia to Athens to put her on a flight to her new home in Denmark, courtesy Danish rescue group Graeske Hunde, I saw five desperate dogs along the way, all in the vicinity of Kyllini, a port town on the western Peloponnese peninsula.

No matter what I might find to whine about in my own life, I’ll remind myself it can’t be a fraction as bad as what street dogs endure just to survive.

Not to pick on Kyllini, because of course that town’s dogs aren’t the only ones. Countless millions more street dogs struggle against hunger, illness, injuries, poisonings, and abuse throughout Greece as well as in many other countries, including the U.S.A, all across the globe.

The first dog I saw that day was a lonely, mange-riddled fellow, just seconds after Diamandi and I drove down the ramp of the ferry boat that had brought us from the island of Kefalonia into Kyllini harbor.

Hastily I named him “Kyllini,” and only stopped long enough to snap a couple of photos of him and ask at a local taverna if anyone could help.

The results were not too successful, as described in yesterday’s posts.

Things went from bad to worse.

Surprise

Due to the fact that Diamandi was horribly car sick, drooling the proportional equivalent of the Mississippi and feeling too sick even to lie down, I had to stop about every 30 to 45 minutes to give her a break and a little water to keep her hydrated.

But where to stop on that rural highway?  Every gas station and café had at least one dog hanging around.  The last thing I needed, as I raced the deadline of the next day’s flight, was an unpleasant encounter or worse between her and some unfamiliar, possibly territorial dog, or heaven forbid a pack of them.

Finally, near the turn-off for the village of Varda,I spotted an "Aegean" gas station that seemed to be dog-free. Just to make sure, I drove past it twice, then doubled back.

Diamandi eagerly hopped out of the car, thrilled to escape her torture chamber, and we headed for a grassy area to give her a chance to relieve herself, although I was pretty sure she had already either barfed or drooled out every milliliter of spare fluid in her body.

I was busily forcing myself not to glance at my watch (we had left Kefalonia late, and seeing evidence of the rapidly passing hours only heightened my panic about making the next day’s flight), when suddenly somebody goosed me. 

And goosed me good.

My shriek might have been heard several towns away. I jumped at least half a meter into the air.

In turn this startled Diamandi, who yelped in sympathy, then stared, growling, at someone behind me.

Few good answers

I whirled around to find a tall and handsome someone smiling at me.  And wagging his tail.

'Pardon the goose. Got any food?'

Finished inspecting mine, Handsome moved on to the hindquarters of Diamandi. She bristled but it was only ceremonial. Handsome was so obviously non-threatening that she quickly relaxed and let her fur down.

Aside from his size—his head almost reached my waist—the most impressive thing about Handsome was his direct, inquisitive, and completely non-aggressive eye contact. 

Such an intense gaze from an unfamiliar dog can be a warning sign. In the case of this good-looking guy, it seemed to translate instead into questions:  “Will you feed me? Want to take me home?”

The brief and sad encounter with Kyllini less than an hour before had already broken my heart into plenty of bits.  Having few good answers for Handsome’s questions chipped off a few more.

But what came next might as well have been a sledgehammer.

For more about Handsome, Diamandi, and lots of other dogs, please check this page again soon.

PLEASE NOTE:  The place where I saw Handsome is an "Aegean" gas station on the main highway between Kyllini and Patras, near the turn-off for the village of Varda.

If you're in the area or know someone who is and might be able to help, please contact me at youadopteddogATyahooDOTcom.

ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS (unless otherwise noted) 

COPYRIGHT 2012

Dear Reader, 

The Dozen Dog Diaries (DDD) would be delighted if you'd spread the links to these articles. Please just keep in mind that reprint or re-post of more than a paragraph or two of the text or of any of the photos is allowable only by explicit permission from DDD, who may be contacted at youradopteddogATyahooDOTcom. Thanks for visiting!

Street dogs lost in the shadows of Greece, ancient land of dreams

Diamandi's last look at her home island, on deck of the departing ferry boat.

(Please see previous article about Kyllini and Diamandi.)

The sun’s glare off the sea hit my eyes, making me realize how hot the day had become, and that my foster dog Diamandi would roast in the car if I didn’t get back to her quickly.

I had stopped at a harbor taverna in the little port town of Kyllini in western Greece to ask if anyone could help the mange-infested street dog I’d just seen.

So far no takers.

“Could I leave you my contact information?” I asked the curly-haired young woman who seemed to be in charge of the taverna. “And may I have yours?  I have to leave now but— “

“There’s nothing we can do,” Curly Hair interrupted brusquely.

Her more sympathetic friend, another twenty-something, looked at me. “Can’t you take him with you?”

I pointed at Diamandi, who was panting inside the car a few meters away, while big trucks coming off the ferry boat raced past.  “That dog was in bad shape out on the streets too, just a few weeks ago. The reason I’m in a rush is that I have to get her to Athens and onto a flight to Denmark tomorrow, where she’ll be adopted by a loving family.”

“Fine. So take another dog too.” Curly Hair grinned smugly at her friend, proud of her own cleverness.

It is an unfortunate fact that if we really want to help animals, if we want to be their effective ambassadors, we often have to bite our tongues against the things we would like very much to say instead of the polite things we must force out of our mouths.

“I wish I could help him,” I said as gently as I could, “along with all the rest who need help. It hurts me that right now I can’t. I wish it were possible. But what is possible is that we can all share a little responsibility. We can work together and really help these animals, and help each other when we need it too.”

The sound of my own voice made me cringe. I knew I sounded like an idiotic Polly Anna. But it was worth it, because Curly Hair looked baffled, as if she had expected a completely different response.

Losing faith

“Could you put out food for him too?” I pressed. “And ask the other businesses and neighbors to be kind to him?  Meanwhile I’ll see if I can find a group or somebody to help.”

The sympathetic woman opened her mouth to reply, but seemed intimidated by her friend.

“Please,” I said. “He’s so miserable. He deserves at least some food and kindness. He’ll be grateful you for anything you can do. And so will I.”

I hurried back toward Diamandi. Another truck flew by, kicking a swirl of dust into my face.

Crossing the street, I heard Curly Hair call out, “Nobody helps around here. Nobody ever helps us.  There’s no hope.”  There was almost a plea in her voice.

I stopped. I knew what she meant. I had been hearing it everywhere. It wasn’t just about animals. It was about Greece, about people losing faith that the economy will ever improve, that there will ever be jobs again, that there will ever again be a sense of progress or even stability.

It’s hard to imagine losing confidence in a country that has survived 6,000 years of downward spirals along with all the spectacular upward ones, but there it was.

A land of dreams

Suddenly I wanted to take the dispirited young women—just girls, really, who were coming of age during a troubled time—take them and mange-riddled street orphan Kyllini and pile them all into the car along with Diamandi and me.

Together, we could figure it out, couldn’t we? Maybe the road to Athens would give us all renewed hope.

I wished at least that I could think of something inspirational to say in reply to Curly Hair’s forlorn plea, one she probably didn’t even realize she was making.

And I wished that I could see Kyllini again before I drove off, at least so as to feed him.

I knew I would dream about him. I knew I would dream about the two girls.

Greece is a land of age-old dreams now set in stone. It is a place built with surprising solidity on nothing but wishes that turned into treasures.

Just look up, almost anywhere you go in this country, and you’ll find a Parthenon, or a Temple of Poseidon, or a Byzantine castle—the ancient genius of wishes and dreams—somehow enduring earthquakes and fires and pollution, somehow outlasting invasions and dictatorships and wars, somehow still symbolizing all that Greece has always given and can continue giving to the world.

Diamandi, only a little dog lost among its shadows, was about to leave this legendary land, because for her there were few wishes or dreams left. Her only hope lay in emigration, as it had for countless Greeks, both human and canine, before her.

But behind her remain thousands of desperate animals and millions of dispirited people—animals and people who, even more solidly than the glorious monuments of the past, are the nation’s greatest treasures.

I turned to look at Curly Hair and her friend. 

“I’ll be back,” was all I could think of to say.

Because that was all I knew for sure.

For more about Kyllini, Diamandi, and other dogs and humans, please visit The Dozen Dog Diaries again soon.

ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS (unless otherwise noted) 

COPYRIGHT 2012

Dear Reader, 

The Dozen Dog Diaries (DDD) would be delighted if you'd spread the links to these articles. Please just keep in mind that reprint or re-post of more than a paragraph or two of the text or of any of the photos is allowable only by explicit permission from DDD, who may be contacted at youradopteddogATyahooDOTcom. Thanks for visiting!

‘Nobody helps us in this town’: Greeks’ discouragement about economy makes animal rescue harder

Kyllini, abandoned dog with severe mange and inflamed eyes

(Please see previous article about Kyllini and Diamandi.)

It was not a good time to even dream about another rescue.

On my way to get one ex-street dog to Athens in time for her flight to a bright new future with rescue group Graeske Hunde in Denmark, I drove into the western Greece port town of Kyllini and immediately spotted a mange-infested but friendly dog wandering the streets.

After snapping a couple of photo of “Kyllini,” as I’d quickly named him—and almost getting pancaked by a speeding truck in the process—I left Diamandi in the car for just a couple of minutes to try to find someone to help.

At the near-empty taverna across the street sat two elderly gentlemen in neatly-pressed shirts and trousers passing the time with coffee and conversation, and two young women in T-shirts and jeans doing the same.

One of the young women, a twenty-something with curly hair, seemed to be in charge of the place.

“Do you know anything about that dog?” I asked in Greek.

“What dog?” she asked in return.

“He’s black and tan, with a skin condition. He looks very messed up.”

Curly Hair shrugged and took a drag on her cigarette.

The other young woman spoke up.  “I know which one you mean. Poor thing. He was abandoned. Somebody left him here.”

“Are people at least feeding him?”

“Some of the tavernas throw him food,” said Curly Hair, examining her painted nails with extreme interest.

The more sympathetic woman shook her head. “It’s terrible what happens here in Greece. I hate it. Animals are not respected. Where are you from? I bet it’s better there.”

“I’m from the U.S., and I wouldn’t say it’s much better.  We have about as many problems and only a few semi-solutions. Is there a local rescue group we could call to help?”

Curly Hair laughed hoarsely. “Nobody helps us in this town.  They don’t help people. You think anyone’s going to help a dog?”

“Kyllini doesn’t have a rescue group?”

“I think maybe we used to,” said the sympathetic woman, “but not anymore.”

Squinting, Curly Hair lit another cigarette. “Everything is disappearing. Everything is going away.”

You’re too young, I wanted to say, to be smoking so much, and to be so disillusioned.

“If people cared any about animals before, they care even less now,” said her friend.

It wasn’t the first time I’d heard it, but I wished it would be the last. Whether correct or not, that perception opened the door to shoulder-shrugging, fatalist pessimism, which is harder than a brick wall when you’re trying to help animals.

Please see next article about Kyllini and Diamandi.

For more about Kyllini, Diamandi, and more dogs and humans, please visit The Dozen Dog Diaries again soon.

ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS (unless otherwise noted) 

COPYRIGHT 2012

Dear Reader, 

The Dozen Dog Diaries (DDD) would be delighted if you'd spread the links to these articles. Please just keep in mind that reprint or re-post of more than a paragraph or two of the text or of any of the photos is allowable only by explicit permission from DDD, who may be contacted at youradopteddogATyahooDOTcom. Thanks for visiting!

Mange-infested, abandoned dog on streets of Greek port needs help

Mange-riddled and abandoned, trying to survive on the streets of Kyllini in western Greece.

When I first saw him he was trotting behind two backpackers who had just gotten off a ferry boat in Kyllini, a small port town in western Greece. Maybe he’d had good experiences with tourists feeding him in the past.

But they didn’t even notice him.

I too had just gotten off the ferry from the island of Kefalonia. Diamandi,another dog who just a few weeks earlier had been in desperate condition on thestreets herself, sat in my rented car drooling gallons due to motion sickness.

She was on her way to Athens, where along with three other ex-street dogs she would board a plane and fly off to a happy new life in Denmark, thanks to help from three rescue groups, Graeske Hunde, Kefalonia Animal Trust, and Santorini Animal Welfare Association, as well as from all their generous donors and volunteers.

For a moment I thought about it. What if I were to load the mangy Kyllini dog into the car, pray he would get along with Diamandi, pray harder that his mange was the non-contagious demodex type instead of the highly contagious sarcoptic type, and beg Graeske Hunde to take him into their program too?

But prayer often doesn’t do you much good without some common sense. The plan was sorely lacking in the latter.

Conflicting responsibilities

Diamandi was already miserable with the car sickness that had plagued her from the moment we’d left our house in Kefalonia—losing so much liquid through her extreme drooling that I had to stop every 30 to 45 minutes to give her rests and to allow her enough water to keep her hydrated, but not so much that it came up in barf.

Today, my responsibility was to her and to the other three dogs who needed transport to Denmark. It wouldn’t be fair to them or to the hardworking rescue groups to risk any mishap.

At least, though, I could photograph “Kyllini,” as I’d oh-so-imaginitively named him, and ask at one of the nearby tavernas if anyone could help.

Eyes so inflamed he could barely open them

The minute I parked the car, Kyllini hurried right up to the driver’s side. He watched me through the window, waiting for me to come out. He wagged his tail. It seemed he was doing his best to appear friendly and appealing, even though the mange had afflicted him so severely that he could barely open his inflamed eyes.

When you see something like that, and you care even the slightest bit about animals, you’re hit by so many different feelings that it’s hard to think straight. There’s grief, frustration, anger, nausea, and the need to cry, to name a few.

Forcing myself to focus, I drew a deep breath, found my camera, flipped it on, told Diamandi to wait, and stepped out of the car.

The tail wagged harder. He came forward to greet me.

“Hello, sweetie,” I said, carefully dodging his attempts at contact, afraid of transferring anything infectious to Diamandi on the eve of her departure for her wonderful new future.  “I’m so sorry I can’t pet you, baby. So sorry.”

As if understanding, he stopped, but kept wagging his tail.

“Do you mind if I snap a picture?”

He cooperated, standing politely still, watching me eagerly.

Right then an 18-wheeler coming off the ferry almost ran both of us over in the driver’s haste to get to the highway.

Kyllini darted away and disappeared into a field of bushes.

If you or anyone you know are in the Kyllini area and might be able to help “Kyllini” the dog, or if you know of a locally active rescue group, please contact The Dozen Dog Diaries at youradopteddogATyahooDOTcom.

Please see the next article about Kyllini and Diamandi.

ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS (unless otherwise noted) 

COPYRIGHT 2012

Dear Reader, 

The Dozen Dog Diaries (DDD) would be delighted if you'd spread the links to these articles. Please just keep in mind that reprint or re-post of more than a paragraph or two of the text or of any of the photos is allowable only by explicit permission from DDD, who may be contacted at youradopteddogATyahooDOTcom. Thanks for visiting!

Dog whose owner hit him with rocks and concrete now needs rescue

Oso needs a rescue group to rehabilitate and rehome him.

A couple of weeks ago, Oso’s owner was arrested for pelting him with rocks and slabs of concrete, then swinging at him with a shovel, according to media reports confirmed by the Phoenix Police Department of Arizona. Oso tried to get away but couldn’t. His owner, Omar Beltran Nunez, had tied him up with wire between two tires in his Phoenix backyard. 

Nunez, 32, wouldn’t stop abusing his dog—not even when ordered to do so by a police officer who had responded to a neighbor’s report about Oso’s crying.

Later, Nunez was charged with animal cruelty.

And Oso, like many dogs whose owners are arrested, ended up in a shelter.

He remains there now, waiting for a way out.

Oso not doing well in the shelter

“Oso comes over to us and engages with us one on one,” ArizonaHumane Society (AHS) Public Relations Manager Bretta Nelson told Animal Policy Examiner in an email interview. “You can tell that he definitely seeks attention, as you can imagine after the situation he was most likely in prior to arriving at the shelter.”

“However, in the shelter environment he is having a very difficult time,” Nelson continued. “It is our hope that a rescue [group] partner will come forward so he can get into an environment that is much better for him.”

Nelson said that a behavior evaluation of Oso, a three-year-old, 82-pound Labrador-German shepherd mix, indicates he is “injuriously aggressive” toward other dogs.

“As of right now, none of our adoption partners have responded to our alert for Oso. However,” she added, “AHS is working with our various rescue organization partners to see who might be able to take Oso and work with him.”

Oso is not yet neutered [a procedure that some say can help reduce dog-on-dog aggression], because “he came to us unaltered and due to the confiscate hold, we cannot perform that surgery until he has been released to us,” Nelson explained.

She requested that any rescue organization interested in helping please email AHS directly at webmaster@azhumane.org.

Oso’s friends in the Phoenix Police Department

Oso’s champions in the Phoenix Police Department include Sgt. Randy Hutson of the Family Investigations Division, which handles domestic violence cases. Hutson has been concerned that Oso as well as another dog, Rolo, who came into the shelter separately from an unrelated incident, might be euthanized.

“It seems wrong to rescue a dog from abuse and then put him down,” Hutson told Animal Policy Examiner in an email interview. “I believe I would rather dodge rocks than be put down.”

Hutson and his detectives have been trying to help rehome the two dogs. “It is Detective Melissa Myers who started this with Rolo and is networking to find him a home,” he said. 

“This is very unusual for us,” Hutson explained, “but I would like to see these two [Oso and Rolo] adopted because we the police intervened in their behalf and now they could be put down. Oso was shaved by HSA to examine him for signs of abuse to aid in the criminal case. After that effort I can’t see him being put down.”

Arizona Humane Society’s Nelson provided reassurance: “I feel very confident that one of our rescue organizations will be able to take Oso and work with him.”

Qualified rescue groups interested in helping Oso may contact AHS at webmaster@azhumane.org.

ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS (unless otherwise noted) 

COPYRIGHT 2012

Dear Reader, 

The Dozen Dog Diaries (DDD) would be delighted if you'd spread the links to these articles. Please just keep in mind that reprint or re-post of more than a paragraph or two of the text or of any of the photos is allowable only by explicit permission from DDD, who may be contacted at youradopteddogATyahooDOTcom. Thanks for visiting!

New Greek government minister in charge of animal welfare takes office today

An older stray sleeps in the cold and on concrete in Syntagma Square, just steps away from Parliament

University professor Napoleon Maravegias takes office today as Minister of Rural Development and Food, a position that includes the oversight of animal welfare in Greece’s new interim government.

Sources within the ministry told Animal Policy Examiner that Maravegias assumed the role today at 3:00 p.m., and will fulfill it for the current “caretaker” administration at least until the next round of elections scheduled for June 17.

Critical time for Greece’s animals

After Parliament’s adoption of new set of animal welfare laws only a few weeks ago, Greek animal advocates wait to see whether or not those laws—some of them controversial—will be obeyed or enforced.

Maravegias, now Greece’s top official responsible for animal welfare, occupies a post that some observers see as critical in upholding those laws and in shaping the future for such issues as the nation’s aberrantly high number of homeless cats and dogs (compared to other European Union countries), and other problems that have been exacerbated by a severe economic crisis.

Maravegias’s background

Maravegias has taught at the University of Athens since 2000, according to a CV found on one of the school’s websites, as well as at other European universities, with a focus on European economics and policy.

In 2001 the French Republic honored him with a medal as Knight of the Battalion of Rural Value for his work.

Numerous books and articles he has written or edited include themes such as “"Strategy for Rural Development in Greece,” “The Negotiations at the World Trade Organization and the Greek Agricultural Interests,” and “The Mediterranean Agriculture in the midst of Globalization.”

Born in Budapest in 1955, Maravegias grew up on the island of Kefalonia, and ultimately earned his DEA and Doctorat d 'Etat in 1983 with honors and fellowships from the Agricultural Bank and the Foundation AS Onassis.

ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS (unless otherwise noted) 

COPYRIGHT 2012

Dear Reader, 

The Dozen Dog Diaries (DDD) would be delighted if you'd spread the links to these articles. Please just keep in mind that reprint or re-post of more than a paragraph or two of the text or of any of the photos is allowable only by explicit permission from DDD, who may be contacted at youradopteddogATyahooDOTcom. Thanks for visiting!

Insomnia contest: scary movie versus lab testing on animals

Insomnia guaranteed.

Never, I repeat, do not EVER watch a scary movie in a foreign language.

Couldn't sleep last night because foolishly just before bedtime I read some info about medical experimentation on dogs.

To clear that out of my head, I flipped on the TV for some vacuous entertainment and landed on a supernatural chiller starring Michael Keaton and called White Noise, which would have spooked my wimpy self plenty in English, but for some reason over here in Greece it was broadcast with dubbing in German, so I didn’t understand one single word of what was going on, causing the creepiness factor to skyrocket.

After a half hour of general disorientation, sweaty palms, and nibbled nails, finally got some sense and switched the dang thing off.

Other channel choices included Polish MTV, which is scary too, and a Turkish soap opera—comical but scarier yet—and then some Greek talking heads about the fouled-up economy, which is scariest of all.

Unless, that is, you count those experiments on dogs.

ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS (unless otherwise noted) 

COPYRIGHT 2012

Dear Reader, 

The Dozen Dog Diaries (DDD) would be delighted if you'd spread the links to these articles. Please just keep in mind that reprint or re-post of more than a paragraph or two of the text or of any of the photos is allowable only by explicit permission from DDD, who may be contacted at youradopteddogATyahooDOTcom. Thanks for visiting!

Oops! I did it again – fell for another Greek dog

Diamandi, pregnant, wary, and on the streets, lurking near our house

(Please see previous article about Diamandi.)

A timid dog watched me approach our front gate. I had just returned to our house on the island of Kefalonia after successfully sending another street dog, Princess Kali Amanda, off to her wonderful new home in Denmark, thanks to Danish rescue group Graeske Hunde.

This dog couldn’t have been more different from Kali, who is an exuberant and glamorous yellow Lab mix. Much smaller, mostly black with white and tan markings, this one darted away as I wheeled my luggage toward the gate, then sat down at a safe few meters’ distance to watch as I unlocked it.

Peeking at her out of the corner of my eye, I realized that she was rounder than when I’d last seen her a couple of weeks before, and that her teats were enlarged. Obviously, the male dogs I had seen following her around had accomplished their missions.

My blood boiled. Those males had owners who couldn’t be bothered to neuter them or even keep them confined. Now Diamandi was paying the price.

No rest for weary dog lovers

The next day she was still outside my gate. And the day after that.

On day three I put out food. That’s what everyone else does. Just feed them. It’s half the battle for street dogs, to get enough to eat, right? So look, I counseled myself, just be like everyone else for a change, OK? Do the minimum, not the max.

On day four, when I went for one of my favorite hikes through the olive orchards behind the village church down to the sea, Diamandi followed me.

Following me at a discreet distance while I hiked

When we got back I realized she probably never got fresh clean water to drink, so I brought out a little pail for her. She didn’t back away. She drank. A lot. Then wagged her tail.

For criminy’s sake, I told myself. Give yourself a breather. You’re still exhausted from the Kali escapade. At least keep your Lenten vow to rescue no more dogs till Easter. 

On day five, two days before Easter, she let me pet her. And looked up at me. She finally felt brave enough for a fleeting moment of eye contact.

The Lean and The Look

In the afternoon, after she let me pet her again, she gave me The Lean.

For me, that always just about does it. A dog in need gives me The Lean, pressing herself against my knee, and I can hear my heart’s remarkably reliable shredding machine go to work on any tatters of resistance I might have left.

That night, she topped herself. There was The Lean and The Look. While I pet her, telling her what a lovely girl she was, Diamandi nestled against my leg, then lifted her chin to gaze up at me.

All my resistance got shredded into light, silly little flakes. Then the feel of her soft breath on my hand blew them all away.

Here was a living, breathing, sweet-natured but scared and desperate creature.  Yes, it was too soon for another rescue. Yes, I was too tired. Yes, I was too busy. Yes, I was too broke. But in that moment while she leaned on me, I had to chuckle. It was hopeless, wasn’t it? You are powerless to resist.

The when and the how

In this world there are:

a) a lot of messed-up dogs who need help

b) a lot of people who, no matter how busy, tired, and broke we may be, can’t stop helping them.

The question was no longer one of “if.”  The Lean and The Look had settled that. Now, it was just a matter of figuring out the when and the how to lure this justifiably sad and suspicious girl first into our house, and then into a brighter future.

ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS (unless otherwise noted) 

COPYRIGHT 2012

Dear Reader, 

The Dozen Dog Diaries (DDD) would be delighted if you'd spread the links to these articles. Please just keep in mind that reprint or re-post of more than a paragraph or two of the text or of any of the photos is allowable only by explicit permission from DDD, who may be contacted at youradopteddogATyahooDOTcom. Thanks for visiting!

A Mother’s Day tribute to the ladies of animal rescue

Blissed-out Kali in Denmark, getting some love from her sweet new mommy, Anna Lise

It’s a fact of life that women do a lot of the heavy lifting in the world of animal welfare, especially when it comes to the rescue and fostering of homeless dogs and cats.

Certainly there are armies of men working hard too. I am privileged to know many of them personally, and look forward to saluting them on Father’s Day.

Today, on Mother’s Day, it’s the legions of ladies—in all their caring, nurturing glory—who are most on my mind.

These dedicated “mothers” of needy animals feed the hungry, medicate the sick, and bandage the injured.

To heal their emotionally traumatized “patients,” they whisper and cuddle, or, if necessary, they just sit and quietly wait for the moment or the day when the animal feels secure enough to approach.

To deal with the never-ending supply of canine and feline energy, these ladies walk the equivalent of marathons, throw barrels worth of balls, and dangle countless toys in front of little whiskered noses. 

And let’s not forget the scooping of the poop. We’re talking in the tons.

Then there’s the heartbreak. No matter how hard they try, sometimes an animal doesn’t make it through an illness.  Or even when all goes perfectly, and their foster dog or cat finds a fabulous forever home, there’s the agonizing heart-wrench of saying goodbye.

Two special groups

In the past few months while living on an island in Greece and rescuing two dogs myself, I’ve had the good fortune to work with a couple of extraordinary animal welfare groups, the Kefalonia Animal Trust here in Greece and Graeske Hunde in Denmark.

Without financial and moral support from those groups, I might not have been able to help those two dogs, Kali and Diamandi. They might still be out on the streets, suffering or dead. And I might have had to endure the worst heartache of all—the one where you’re powerless to help, and you’re forced to walk away.

In the coming days I’ll continue my tribute to Kefalonia Animal Trust and Graeske Hunde, who are among the thousands of organizations around the world who somehow manage, on skinnier than shoestring budgets, not only to save the lives of animals but also to buck up those of us who care about them.

For now, I’m wishing all of you ladies who rescue, foster, and/or nurture animals … OK, and the gentlemen too (why not? all animal caregivers need as much appreciation as we can get) … the happiest of Mother’s Days.  Oh, and also a day off from scooping the poop.

ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS (unless otherwise noted) 
COPYRIGHT 2012

Dear Reader, I'd be delighted if you'd spread the links to these articles. Please just keep in mind that reprint or re-post of the photos, or of anything more than a paragraph or two of the text is allowable only by explicit permission from Yours Truly, who may be contacted at youradopteddogATyahooDOTcom. Thanks for visiting!

Pregnant and abandoned is no way for a dog to spend Mother’s Day

Waiting at our front gate

First the facts:

She was pregnant.

She was abandoned. Not once, but twice. By two different men.

She was suspicious of people. (What a surprise.)

She was heavily infested with ticks—on her eyelids, ears, throat, chest, and rump.

Because she wears a diamond on her shoulder—a white patch of fur in the shape of that crystal—and because she is a jewel herself, to me she became “Diamandi,” Greek for diamond.

And she was waiting for me.

Just as I arrived back at our house on the island of Kefalonia from Athens, where I’d loaded my previous rescue/foster Princess Kali Amanda on the plane to fly to her adopters in Denmark, under the auspices of rescue group Graeske Hunde—right when I drove up—Diamandi sat there waiting at our front gate.

Challenging my Lenten vow

I almost made it. For 40 days from late February till Greek Easter in April, I’d sworn off rescuing and/or fostering any more dogs.

During that time I already had a rescue in progress—an energetic teenager, the elegant yellow Labrador mix Princess Kali Amanda, who was a big project. Her care and the complicated international delivery to her forever family in Denmark ate up many of my waking hours and even some of the hypothetical sleeping ones.

While I fostered Kali there was almost no time left for accomplishing the tasks for which I’d come to the island of Kefalonia—salvaging our crumbling old house there and working on writing projects. Certainly there was no time, let alone energy, to take in a second rescue.

But it was hard to resist. Street dogs wander and chained dogs languish everywhere, some in reasonable shape, others near death.

For Lent, I vowed to give it up. The canine species is one of my great passions in life, but rescuing nearly 130 of them in the past 10 years has created a major distraction from the things I am supposed to be doing. Like, for instance, earning a living. And how about living up to innumerable promises and responsibilities that are too embarrassing to list due to the fact that so many of them have not been lived up to?

All on her own

Diamandi lurked around our village throughout the long, harsh winter. Some of the neighbors fed her. She found shelter here and there, they said.

For the first several weeks I had assumed she had a home. Her best friend seemed to be another female dog named Froso. Diamandi devotedly followed Froso everywhere, the same way other dogs follow their humans. Since Froso belonged to a family around the corner from us, I thought Diamandi was theirs too.

Also one of the neighbors let her accompany him and his own dog on their daily walks through the countryside, a regular bit of companionship that I noticed she seemed to cherish. She never missed it, and she often skipped around in excitement at the sight of that neighbor and his dog.

But aside from those walks and her friendship with Froso, Diamandi was on her own.

Nibbled at my conscience

Originally, some guy had brought her to the village, I was told, and he kept her chained up, quite common in Greece. Then he moved out and left her behind. Also common.

Next, another guy took pity on her and decided to keep her at his house in a different village. But for whatever reason, he brought her back. And left her there. Again.

All winter, after I realized she had no home, Diamandi nibbled at my conscience. But she wouldn’t come anywhere near me. Plus I was barely managing to care for and make the travel and adoption plans for Kali, the first one. Would it be fair to anybody, including Kali, to take in a second?

As I prepared for the road trip to Athens for Kali’s flight to Denmark, the weather began to warm, and I knew all too well what that meant.  Most un-spayed female dogs on the island soon would go into season. By summer they’d give birth to unwanted litters of puppies who they’d have to raise with little or no help. Diamandi would probably be one of those struggling mothers.

The night before Kali and I left, I saw two different males following Diamandi. If they accomplished their missions, in a few weeks she was going to have one heck of a Mother’s Day. She’d be hugely pregnant, nearing her due date, and still on the streets.

A hard choice

When you’re crazy about dogs, and you’re surrounded by dogs who need help, you end up making choices you don’t like.

To get Kali to Denmark, which required a one-hour drive, followed by a three-hour boat trip, followed by a five-hour drive, followed by a search for the pet store where I needed to buy Kali’s transport crate, followed by an overnight in a hotel, followed by another one-hour drive to the airport and the subsequent complicated process of getting her on the plane, I had to force myself to forget about Diamandi.

At least temporarily.

Please see the next article about Diamandi.

ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS (unless otherwise noted) 
COPYRIGHT 2012

Please feel free to spread the links to these articles, but reprint or re-post of the photos, or of anything more than a paragraph or two of the text is allowable only by explicit permission from the author, who may be contacted at youradopteddogATyahooDOTcom. Thanks for visiting!