Can love find a way? Deciding whether or not to euthanize sick, defensive street dog

A disease called Leishmaniasis causes lesions and sores. Photo:Katerina Lorenzatos Makris

by Katerina Lorenzatos Makris

Love dies every day. People kill it. In the U.S. it’s at least three million to four million times a year. That’s how many dogs and cats are put to death in animal shelters for no crime other than being unloved.

Instead, most of them would gladly have given all their love, in copious, wiggly, slurpy, furry, irrepressible quantities, to almost anyone who asked.

Love dies in other ways, too, all around the world. Starvation, poisoning, beating… the list of grisly fates for companion animals is nearly endless.

One dog here on the Greek island of Kefalonia, a tall, bony, black and white street dog, would certainly have met one of those grisly fates if he hadn’t “walked into our headlights,” as friend Melissa Beamish puts it.

Melissa and I were driving through the village of Troianata under a full moon when we spotted a creature that at first we couldn’t even recognize. Or maybe we didn’t want to. It was too gruesome: eyes bright red and rimmed with blood; blood streaking the legs.  Maybe we just didn’t want to believe that this horrifying sight could be a dog. But it was.

Legs covered in lesions. Photo:Katerina Lorenzatos Makris

After a ten-day search and hard work by a team of friends, the tall dog finally came home with me. I’ve never felt more relieved.  During those days while we tried to capture him, it was hard to sleep knowing he was out there on his own in that condition.

It was during one of those sleepless nights that his name came to me—“Agapi,” the Greek word for “love.”

Sick, but strong

Agapi has a wicked disease called Leishmaniasis, common here in Greece and in other Mediterranean countries. Carried by a certain species of sand fly, it can cause the grotesque skin lesions as well as joint swelling, weight loss, blindness, organ damage and a long list of other troubles.  He also has Ehrlichia, another nasty disease transmitted by ticks. At the beginning he had tapeworm, too, and he was crawling with fleas.

The last two problems have now been solved thanks to a pill for the tapeworm and an Advantix ampule for the fleas. And according to our vet Dr. Amanda the first two problems—the Leishmaniasis and the Ehrlichia—can also be cured. The level of Leishmaniasis in his blood is high but not too high, and in spite of everything this dog is vigorous and zestful, so Dr. Amanda believes Agapi’s chances for a long, full, healthy life after treatment are excellent.

The Leishmaniasis treatment consists of two doses per day of a medication called Zylapour, or Allopurinol, which he’ll need to stay on for life, and a 28-day course of another one called Milteforan, which is outrageously expensive—somewhere around 350 euros (about $450 U.S.).

The Saint (a.k.a. my hubsy) has kindly volunteered to fund it. Melissa has also offered (repeatedly and firmly!) to help with the costs. And after that treatment is done, the Ehrlichia will be easily conquered with just a one-month-long prescription of doxycycline, an antibiotic.

So… great, right?  Isn’t it all good? Agapi can be cured, then adopted by a loving family?

Technically, yes.  But practically speaking… I don’t know.

Because he’s got another bit of a problem.  He, um, well… he wants to… eat people. All people but me.

Rubbing his inflamed eyes. Photo: Katerina Lorenzatos Makris

A little grouchy

First he growled at Yvonne Walser, friend and fellow animal rescuer, who kindly came over to meet and visit him just a couple of days after he arrived.  Then a few days later at Keith Preston, another friend and big-time animal rescuer. Then he lunged and barked ferociously at Vasilis, who’s helping us repair the house.  Not even Dr. Amanda escaped one of his impressive displays when she came over to give him a second checkup on Friday.

This depressed the heck out of me.  Last week I sank into deep sadness.  It’s hard enough to try to find a good home for a healthy, friendly dog.  Finding one for a Leishmaniasis dog who also does his best to scare folks?  Yeah, right. Like looking for a needle in a whole farm of haystacks.

And no, I can’t keep him myself because we already have a house overflowing with previous rescues, and my mom needs to come live with us soon after I get home to California, and it wouldn’t be fair to our own dogs or to a new dog or to Mom or perhaps least of all to ourselves to take on another right now.

‘Put him down’?

Friends whose opinions I highly value—friends who do a ton more rescue than I do—urge me to let him go. Put him down. Send him to doggy heaven. Be content with having given him a couple of weeks of comfort and safety, then give him a premature but easy and painless death.

There are too many healthy, mellow dogs desperately needing homes to spend so much time, energy, and money on just this one difficult case.

On my mind have been the 200-plus wonderful dogs at the Animal Rescue Kefalonia (ARK), a shelter with scant resources that’s struggling under the constant avalanche of animals nobody else wants. I’ve been hoping to help out there by photographing, writing about, and trying to re-home at least a few of those worthy angels.

Agapi, such a needy fellow, is sucking up all the time and resources I had hoped to spend on them instead.

It’s not wise to keep him alive. It’s not cost-effective. It’s giving in to the heart when the head should rule.

A sensible person would euthanize him.  I can be sensible.

A strong person would euthanize him. I can be strong.

I should do it. I know that.  And I’ve cried about it all week.

Does he deserve capital punishment?

This is a dog who has seen little in his life but the worst of what we humans have to offer. 

My soul slogs through day after day of it—the horror of what too many animals of all kinds are forced to endure. It’s on Facebook, in photos from all over the world, and it’s up-close-and-personal here on the streets and in the backyards and fields and orchards of Kefalonia.  It’s inescapable. There’s not one hour of the day when I’m not either seeing it, grieving about it, researching it, or writing about it. Even when I sleep, it doesn’t go away, but fills my nightmares.

I’m tired of it.

OK, so he’s sick. OK, so he’s not keen on strangers.  Who among us hasn’t been sick?  Who among us has never wanted to growl and bark?

Do those crimes deserve capital punishment?

Maybe the next terrible case I take on, maybe for that one I’ll have to do the sensible thing, the strong thing.

Not this time.

This time, in this one case, if there’s any possible way, if it’s at all in my power, this one time, love will live.

Agapi gently accepts a cookie. (Photo: Katerina Lorenzatos Makris)

Please visit The Dozen Dogs Diaries again soon for upcoming articles about Agapi.

Better yet, sign in with the 'Join this blog' button above to receive an email notice whenever there's a new article.

For previous articles please see archive to the right, including:

Love comes home: the challenging rescue of a sick and bloody street dog 

Read Melissa Beamish's excellent blog about her round-the-world trip volunteering in animal shelters, including a month at Kefalonia's ARK.

To donate or to volunteer on behalf of animals in Kefalonia, contact Animal Rescue Kefalonia (ARK) and Kefalonia Animal Trust (KATs).

ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS unless otherwise noted

COPYRIGHT 2012

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!

Curing a street dog of two deadly diseases might be easier than finding him a home

Photo: Katerina Lorenzatos Makris

by Katerina Lorenzatos Makris

Agapi is under siege.

Probably at least a year ago, somewhere here on the island of Kefalonia, he was bitten by a sand fly, says our local vet Dr. Amanda Mikeleti. The insect injected into his skin a protozoan parasite called Leishmania, which over the months reproduced and multiplied, and has already caused the following:

• hideous sores and ulcers in and around his eyes and on his legs
• possibly some blindness
• dry and sparse coat
• weight loss
• muscle atrophy
• joint inflammation and swelling
• rapidly growing, twisted and deformed nails

If allowed to progress, it could bring anemia, polyarthritis, and lameness, damage his liver and kidneys, and even trigger heart attacks.

This dog, who we were told had been wandering the streets of the village of Troianata for at least two years before a small team of friends and I caught him last week, is also doing battle with a tick-borne bacteria called Ehrlichia, which if left untreated could create all sorts of problems ranging from retinal hemorrhage to neurological disease.

Photo: Katerina Lorenztos Makris

The good news

In the little red vial that Dr. Amanda sent to Athens a few days ago, the laboratory found that the Leishmania parasite inhabits one part per 1,600 parts of Agapi’s blood. This, says the vet, is considered to be a medium to high concentration.

The good news is that if we go forward with a 28-day course of an expensive drug called Milteforan, the vet feels its chances of killing enough of the Leishmaniasis parasite to give Agapi a high quality of life, or possibly to deliver him from this vicious enemy altogether, are about 80 percent.

She said she has successfully treated patients with concentrations of higher than 2,000.

Because Agapi’s appetite is great, and he has no vomiting or diarrhea, the vet believes his liver and kidneys are fine.

And to free him from the Ehrlichia is a very simple matter of a 30-day course of the antibiotic doxycycline.

Further good news: on Sunday we started him on Zylapour (Allopurinol), the inexpensive medication used for Leishmaniasis, and I think I’m already seeing some improvement in the lesions.  Dr. Amanda says that wouldn’t be unusual; dogs often respond quickly to the drug.

Additionally, the vet sees it as a good sign for his chances of recovery that in spite of his skin condition and muscle atrophy, and despite the fact that he sleeps a lot, Agapi seems generally vigorous and interested in his surroundings—not at all lethargic or depressed.

Agapi enjoying a good roll in the grass (Photo: Katerina Lorenzatos Makris)

 What next?

After explaining the test results, Dr. Amanda asked me, “OK, then what?  Let’s say we perform the treatment and get him healthy, then what will you do with him?  Where will he go?”

Good question. She knows I already have a overflowing house of rescued dogs who I’ve left for far too long. They are 8,000 miles away in California with my amazingly patient hubsy, a.k.a. The Saint. I need to get home as soon as possible, not only because I miss the whole bunch of them, but because my mom needs to come live with us, like, yesterday.

Finding Agapi a good home in Greece—a country already drowning in unwanted animals—is nearly impossible.  And I’m told by fellow rescuers that folks in other European countries such as Hollandm Germany, and Denmark, who often adopt cats and dogs from Greece (bless them!), typically don’t want Leish dogs, even if they’ve been treated and/or cured.

Speaking of The Saint… he has kindly volunteered to fund Agapi’s treatment if that’s the path we decide to take. Which moves me to tears every time I think about it. I didn’t even have to send him Agapi’s horrifying photos to compel him to this generosity.  All I did was mumble a few things like “bleeding eyes, sores, deformed nails, parasite,” and he was there.

But again, then what?

More about Agapi:

A bloody dog standing in the road: What do you do?

Safety versus guilt: The animal rescuer’s dilemma  

Dog rescue styles: Ms. Savvy-and-Sensible versus the Wahoooo Cowgirl

Love comes home: the challenging rescue of a sick and bloody street dog  

A matter of hope: lab results tomorrow to determine ill street dog’s fate 

Please visit The Dozen Dogs Diaries again soon for upcoming articles about Agapi.

Better yet, sign in with the 'Join this blog' button above to receive an email notice whenever there's a new article.

Read Melissa Beamish's excellent blog about her round-the-world trip volunteering in animal shelters, including a month at Kefalonia's ARK.

To donate or to volunteer on behalf of animals in Kefalonia, contact Animal Rescue Kefalonia (ARK) and Kefalonia Animal Trust (KATs).

ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS unless otherwise noted

COPYRIGHT 2012

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 matter of hope: lab results tomorrow to determine ill street dog’s fate

Bloody lesions on Agapi. (Photo: Katerina Lorenzatos Makris)

by Katerina Lorenzatos Makris

Tomorrow will be a big day for Agapi, although he doesn’t know it.

I know it. I know it so well that I would find it hard to sleep tonight if I weren’t so exhausted by taking care of him.

Tomorrow we’ll get a call from Dr. Amanda Mikeleti, our wonderful veterinarian here on the Greek island of Kefalonia, regarding how much of a murderous parasite he has in his bony body. She drew the blood sample on Friday and sent it to the big lab in Athens for testing.

It’s not a question of whether or not Agapi is a host for that killer. His symptoms are classic—the sparse fur, the grotesque lesions around the eyes and on the legs and paws, the rapid and twisted growth of the nails, and the low weight. We’re just waiting to find out how much of it has invaded him.

Gory lesions on legs and long, twisted nails: classic Leishmaniasis symptoms (Photo: Katerina Lorenzatos Makris)

If it’s too much for medication to combat successfully, we might need to euthanize him.

If it’s a lower amount, and indications are that the medication has a good chance, we might go for it, do our best to cure him, then pray that we can find him a loving family.

Matter-of-mad

It’s funny that I can write this so matter-of-factly, because I’m not feeling very matter-of-fact.  I’m feeling very matter-of-worry. And matter-of-sad. And matter-of-mad. At the fact that this dog was allowed to plummet into this misery, as are so many other dogs, not just here in Greece, but around the world, including in my beloved U.S. of A.

If they don't get Leishmaniasis, which is what Agapi’s deadly parasite is called, then they get distemper or parvo or sarcoptic mange or starvation or poisoning or an 18-wheeler or some psychopath with a meat cleaver or... you name it.  I don’t know how any street dogs manage to survive as long as they do.

Matter-of-hope

On the bright side, Dr. Amanda says that she doubts Agapi could have organ damage yet—another charming effect of Leishmaniasis—because if his kidneys or liver were in trouble he’d exhibit vomiting, diarrhea, lack of appetite, and perhaps lethargy.

Since we're so far so good on all those scores, there’s reason for optimism.   

So I’m hereby adjusting my attitude as I get ready for bed tonight. I’ve decided to be matter-of-hope.

More about Agapi:

A bloody dog standing in the road: What do you do?

Safety versus guilt: The animal rescuer’s dilemma  

Dog rescue styles: Ms. Savvy-and-Sensible versus the Wahoooo Cowgirl

Love comes home: the challenging rescue of a sick and bloody street dog 

Please visit The Dozen Dogs Diaries again soon for upcoming articles about Agapi.

Better yet, sign in with the 'Join this blog' button above to receive an email notice whenever there's a new article.

Read Melissa Beamish's excellent blog about her round-the-world trip volunteering in animal shelters, including a month at Kefalonia's.

To donate or to volunteer on behalf of animals in Kefalonia, contact Animal Rescue Kefalonia (ARK) and Kefalonia Animal Trust (KATs).

ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS unless otherwise noted

COPYRIGHT 2012

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!

Love comes home: the challenging rescue of a sick and bloody street dog

Photo: Katerina Lorenzatos Makris

 by Katerina Lorenzatos Makris

A few weeks ago when I suggested to a friend that she write a book about some of her life experiences, she said she can’t yet, because those experiences are still too fresh and painful.

“Oh, but do give it a try,” my sanctimonious self urged her. “That’s often when we do our best writing—when things are fresh and painful!”

Today, I sit at the keyboard trying to describe the ten days I worked to catch the gruesomely bloody dog in the village of Troianata here on the Greek island of Kefalonia, and totally get what my friend meant. At the moment, I don’t want to relive those ten days. They were some of the roughest ever.

Learning curves

To explain some of it, there’s an email I sent to another friend, Melissa Beamish, about midway through that awful period. By then, Melissa had finished her month of volunteering at Animal Rescue Kefalonia (ARK), the local shelter, and returned to England to regroup and plan the next segment of her mission to pitch in at shelters around the world. I had promised to keep her updated, since we’d first seen the Troianata dog together, and since she was just as worried about him as I was.

“I've learned something important from this experience,” I wrote to her. “I never, ever should've driven away without the dog that night we first saw him.  It's just that it was all so problematic! He was barking at us nonstop so I didn't know if he'd bite us, and even if by some miracle we managed to get him into the car, he had a terrible skin condition so I didn't know if we'd catch whatever he had, and we were supposed to be enjoying a little holiday, and I felt bad about laying yet another messed-up dog on you during what was supposed to be your day off from taking care of messed-up dogs!

“Plus I had the grand plan for our dinner at home, and I wasn't looking forward to all the stuff we'd have to do for him even IF we were able to get him home. And all the vets were closed. And I was hungry and needed to use the potty.”

My rant continued: “I just put too much faith in the notion that I'd be able to find the dog again easily. WHAT WAS I THINKING??????  There are no guarantees that a stray dog will ever be in any particular spot at any particular time.  Why was I so confident about finding him again????

“Now I am really beside myself with worry, and I've wasted hours upon hours going back and forth to that village to look for him, not to mention petrol and the cost of renting the car that I was supposed to return on Monday!!! 

“That very night I should have begged Petros [the local resident who had been feeding the dog] to help us catch him and get him into the car.  From there on I'm sure we could have managed.  I don't know how exactly, but between the two of us we'd have figured it out!” 

“OK, I’m done with the rant,” I concluded. “Hindsight is always 20/20, and at least this was a very valuable lesson learned.  Next time this happens, next time I see another street dog in such terrible shape, I will move heaven and earth and do my best to attend to the dog right then and there, because now I know that if you wait, there are no guarantees you'll ever see him again.”

Melissa, bless her, gently reassured me. We had done the best we could under the circumstances, she said, and I should stop beating myself up, and things might still work out just the way they should.   

Her steadfast support during the search for the Troianata dog and her extraordinary dedication to hands-on, in-the-trenches animal welfare work has reaffirmed my conviction that one of the best things about rescuing animals is not just the animals you meet, but also the human friends you make along the way. If I hadn’t gotten mixed up in helping critters during my time here in Greece, I never would have had the privilege of getting to know Melissa Beamish.

Team effort

Four days after that email exchange, following drama, intrigue, research, networking, sleepless nights, and the burn of a whole river’s worth of time and gasoline, and only with generous and heroic help from Petros and from friends Yianni Gnesouli, Yvonne Walser, Mary Cox, and a gentleman who wishes to remain anonymous, finally the sick, bloody Troianata dog came home with me.

His name is Agapi, the Greek word for “love,” because that’s what he needs, and that’s what he gives.

Photo: Katerina Lorenzatos Makris

More about Agapi:

A bloody dog standing in the road: What do you do?

Safety versus guilt: The animal rescuer’s dilemma  

Dog rescue styles: Ms. Savvy-and-Sensible versus the Wahoooo Cowgirl

Please visit The Dozen Dogs Diaries again soon for upcoming articles about Agapi.

Better yet, sign in with the 'Join this blog' button above to receive an email notice whenever there's a new article.

Read Melissa Beamish's excellent blog about her round-the-world trip volunteering in animal shelters.

To donate or to volunteer on behalf of animals in Kefalonia, contact Animal Rescue Kefalonia (ARK) and Kefalonia Animal Trust (KATs).

ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS unless otherwise noted

COPYRIGHT 2012

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 rescue styles: Ms. Savvy-and-Sensible versus the Wahoooo Cowgirl

Night horror: haunting, bloody eyes (Photo: Katerina Lorenzatos Makris)

by Katerina Lorenzatos Makris

Having sustained my share of "love bites" in the past—to the tune of 50 stitches—I am no longer a very brave dog rescuer.  Nowadays I believe that discretion is the better part of valor, as the saying goes. You can't help anybody if you get hurt.

Also, in the case of the grotesquely bloody dog that friend Melissa Beamish and I found in the middle of the road one recent moonlit night, he had been barking at us from the moment we parked the car. Every time we tried to approach he’d dash off a few meters with his tail between his legs, then resume a defensive warning posture with head and tail high and stiff. He really did not seem to want us near him.

Also, I wasn’t crazy about the thought of catching sarcoptic mange, if that’s what the dog had. Some sources say the sarcoptic mange parasite does not pass from dogs to humans, but a couple of fellow rescuers swear that they’ve caught it from dogs they’ve picked up.

Since this dog did not seem to be in an emergency situation—he had been on the streets for at least two years and had endured the bloody lesions for several months, according to Petros (not his real name) the village resident who had been feeding him—I wimped out and settled for leaving the dog in situ for the time being, until we could make a better plan on how to rescue him.

“May we exchange phone numbers?” I asked Petros. “I don’t know how exactly we’re going to help, but I promise we will.”

Melissa added, “Don’t worry, Petros. You’re no longer in this alone. We will help.”

Impulse control

Armed with Petros’s mobile number, Melissa and I drove away. We had dinner. We talked about other things. 

At one point I said, “Whew, am I glad we didn’t pick up that dog. What a ginormous hassle it would’ve been to deal with a fresh rescue so late at night.”

Melissa made no comment. I got the feeling that if it had been up to her, she would have found a way to get that dog into the car and take him straight to Animal Rescue Kefalonia (ARK), the shelter where she had been volunteering some ten hours a day for almost a month solid.

What she did say was that whatever I decided to do, she would stand by me all the way, and help in every way she could. Coming from a person like Melissa, that's no empty promise. I knew she meant it.

But even while dropping her off at the downtown apartment where she was staying courtesy of ARK founder Marina Machado, I was congratulating myself on my wise decision.  And even while taking a shower and getting ready for bed, I smiled about how great it was to be able to do that—to come home and just take a shower and get ready for bed—instead of having the bother of an ailing, possibly aggressive dog on my hands.

What a savvy, sensible, pragmatic rescuer I had become, instead of the anything-goes, wahoooo!, wild cowgirl rescuer I used to be. 

Nope, no more of that impulsive nonsense for this gal. Tomorrow, in the clear light of day, I’d construct a clever plan for just what needed to be done and how to do it.

Smugly, with a few more pats on my own back, I climbed into bed, rested my head on the pillow, and pulled up the sheets.

There I lay. For hours. Eyes wide open.

Because all I could see in my head were his eyes—bloody, wary, and weary.

I am sick, those eyes had said, even while he barked and ran away. I am tired. I need some help.

Perhaps it is because we hear such voices in our heads that some people believe we animal rescuers are nuts. And maybe we are.

Carefully planned chaos

Friend and fellow rescuer Paley Cowan-Andersen once told me that if you’re looking for a dog, the best time to search is at dawn and at dusk, when they tend to be most active and foraging for food.

In the morning, soon after the hardworking full moon had ended her shift and left the skies to allow her colleague the sun to begin his chores, I was in the car headed for the village of Troianata.  Yes, me. At dawn. I, who am so not a morning person that halfway over there I realized I was wearing a left shoe from one pair of shoes and the right shoe from another, and that I had forgotten the dog food, my drivers’ license, and the camera.

Those were things that would have been carefully planned and packed by Ms. Savvy and Sensible rescuer. But the bloody dog in Troianata didn’t really need those things. What he needed right now was anything-goes, wahoooo! Wild Cowgirl. And she was on her way.

More articles about this dog:

A bloody dog standing in the road: What do you do?

Safety versus guilt: The animal rescuer’s dilemma 

Please visit The Dozen Dogs Diaries again soon for more about the bloody dog.

Better yet, sign in with the 'Join this blog' button above to receive an email notice whenever there's a new article.

Read Melissa Beamish's excellent blog about her round-the-world trip volunteering in animal shelters.

To donate or to volunteer on behalf of animals in Kefalonia, contact Animal Rescue Kefalonia (ARK), or Kefalonia Animal Trust (KATs).

ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS unless otherwise noted

COPYRIGHT 2012

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!

Safety versus guilt: The animal rescuer’s dilemma

Bribery often works, but not in this case - he ate and ran. Photo: Katerina Lorenzatos Makris

by Katerina Lorenzatos Makris

Like a couple of pianos perched on your shoulders, a ton of responsibilities weighs upon you. You’re supposed to be doing other things—not rescuing dogs. But you take one day off, just one day, and what happens?  Out of nowhere pops a pooch who’s so messed up that at first you’re not even sure he is a dog.

Melissa Beamish and I were at the end of our little day trip around the Greek island of Kefalonia, which I had insisted we take because she had insisted on volunteering something like ten hours a day at the local animal shelter for nearly 30 days straight, after already having put in five previous months of volunteering elsewhere in Europe as part of her worldwide mission for animal welfare.

She had allowed herself just one other day off to see the local sights, and that was only because another shelter volunteer had kindly arranged a complimentary bus tour for her. But only two days of fun in a whole month, when you’re in a place like Kefalonia, one of the world’s loveliest isles, well that just ain’t right.

Before setting out that morning I had begged the gods of animal rescue to please not send us anybody that day.  Please?  Could we have a day off? Pretty please?

The day was granted.  No starving dogs, no coughing cats, no lame donkeys or baby goats tossed in garbage bins marred the daylight hours.  But after enjoying a sunset swim in the jewel-clear waters of Antisamos Beach, then parking on the bluff above it to watch a golden moon who rose and lavished her glory in a shimmering swath across the Ionian Sea, we found that the Fates had a different plan in mind for us.

We drove into the village of Troianata, only 20 minutes away from my house. Our dinner waited in the fridge.  For once in my life I had done some planning ahead, been a little organized.  My life was sort of getting on track after the chaos of the two pooch rescues I did in the winter and spring, rehabbing our old house here, and caring for elderly relatives. I’d been treating myself to a swim every day, was even thinking about sneaking off for an hour at some point to get a haircut, and had begun treasuring the illusion that soon I’d complete the tasks here in Greece and finally get to go home to my husband and pooches in California.

But the instant that dog’s eyes—bright red, oozing, and grotesquely rimmed in blood—appeared in the glare of my rented car’s headlights, I knew.

“Honey,” I informed myself with a sigh, “whatever that creature is, whether it’s a dog or a demon, your party is over.  Things are about to get a little hectic.”

Fear can lead to bites

Melissa, who I’m pretty sure was Florence Nightingale in a previous life, jumped out of the car the second I parked. The fact that the creature was barking at us, clearly telling us to go away, did not deter her from checking him out, but from a wise distance.

She was the first to realize he was after all a dog, and that his legs, like his face, were covered in bleeding wounds.

“Do you think he’s been hit by a car?” she wondered aloud as we stood there staring, trying to figure out what to do.  “Or been in a fight?”

At first I was too nauseated to speak. No matter how many bad things you’ve seen happen to animals, it’s still hard to see them.

Lots of things raced through my head:  He’s barking. He might be aggressive. The body language is fearful—tail between the legs, backing away. Fear can lead to bites. The wounds look sort of patterned, around the eyes, at the leg joints, and down to the paws, like a skin condition rather than injuries. Could it be mange?  Could it be the sarcoptic type? Could it be contagious?

I kicked myself for not knowing more about mange and other skin ailments, after all these years of rescuing and writing about animals.

“Poor thing,” Melissa whispered, sounding as grief-stricken as I felt.

“Food,” I said.  “I have some in the car. It was for Tula in case we’d spotted her.”

(Tula,another street dog, an English pointer, has adopters waiting for her, if only she can be found. While vacationing in the village of Old Skala, an Italian couple cared for and fell in love with her during the summer and now they want desperately to make her a part of their family. But so far she has not been located. Another one of this island’s animal dramas.)

In my palm, I held some kibble out to the bloody dog. “Here pup. Come on, sweetie. Aren’t you hungry?”

But the bloody dog wasn’t buying. He stayed a good twenty feet away. I tossed some of the kibble on the pavement halfway between us. He dashed a few steps forward, snatched it, then quickly retreated to resume barking.

“Great,” I muttered. 

Hard to find help

“Do you suppose he belongs to anybody?” Melissa asked.

We looked around, but there didn’t seem to be any homes nearby, until the dog showed us that indeed there was. He slinked up a short concrete ramp to what we realized was the unfinished second story of a house. To the side of it, a locked gate blocked a stairway that led down below the level of the road to what seemed to be the first floor of the residence, where lights shone and a TV chattered.

“Hello!” I called out in Greek.  “Excuse me!  Hello?  Is there someone I could speak with for a moment?”

An older woman answered, “Yes!  Hello! I’m coming!” She climbed halfway up the stairs.  Soon a young man joined her.

“We’re so sorry to bother you,” I began, “but my friend and I were driving by, and we saw a dog. He’s in terrible shape. Right now he’s on your roof, barking.”

“He’s a stray,” said the woman.

Her son “Petros” (not his real name) explained he had first seen the dog two years ago, on the road about four kilometers away. He had started feeding him, and eventually he turned up at their home. So Petros had continued the feedings. But no matter how much food he provided to the ravenous dog, he had never been able to get him to gain weight.

About ten months ago, the dog started losing fur. Then he began to break out in sores.

As the condition worsened, Petros said he tried to contact one of the local animal rescue groups—one that he said has since gone defunct. At the time, he described the situation to a woman named Mrs. Tipota (not her real name), who said the group would help. But they never did, said Petros.

He wanted very badly to help the dog more, he said, but didn’t have the time or the money. So he decided to at least make sure he was always fed.  Sometimes, on stormy nights when the dog didn’t show up, he would walk for half an hour in the rain to find and feed him.

A fang ‘tattoo’?

Throughout the conversation I translated for Melissa.  Then, to my great admiration, she offered important questions that my brain’s freaked-out state wasn’t producing. I continued the translating:

Q: About how long had the dog had the severe lesions?

A: At least a couple of months.

Q: Would he let Petros approach or handle him? 

A: Yes, unless he was in an agitated state, like tonight. Then Petros wasn’t completely confident in him.

Q: Had he had any veterinary attention? 

A: Petros had gotten a powder for the lesions from the pharmacist.

Q: Did the dog come around every day? And if so about what time?

A: Not every day, but most days, and usually in the evenings or nighttime after Petros got home from work.

Melissa looked at me. There was an unspoken question on both our minds. What should we do?

Thanks a bunch, Fates

The two options:

1. Find a way to get the barking dog into the car, call and possibly wake Marina Machado, head of the new shelter, Animal Rescue Kefalonia, and deliver him straight there.

(Upside: Dog spends the night in safety, and we sleep guilt-free. Downside: I really hate getting munched, and would hate it even more if Melissa left the island with a memento “tattoo” in the form of puncture scars made by fangs.)

2. Leave him where he was for tonight, make a sensible plan, and come back for him tomorrow.

Fates, thanks oh so much for giving us this charming decision, I mumbled internally. All I asked for was one little day of fun in the sun.

Petros, his mother, and the dog all watched us, waiting for an answer.

More articles about this dog:

A bloody dog standing in the road: What do you do? 

Dog rescue styles: Ms. Savvy-and-Sensible versus the Wahoooo Cowgirl

Please visit The Dozen Dogs Diaries again soon for more about our encounter with the bloody dog.

Better yet, sign in with the 'Join this blog' button above to receive an email notice whenever there's a new article.

Read Melissa Beamish's excellent blog about her round-the-world trip volunteering in animal shelters.

To donate or to volunteer on behalf of animals in Kefalonia, contact Animal Rescue Kefalonia (ARK), or Kefalonia Animal Trust (KATs).

ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS unless otherwise noted

COPYRIGHT 2012

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 bloody dog standing in the road: What do you do?

Desperately ill dog wandering the village streets 

If you care about animals, there are times when you wonder if you’ve stumbled off this world and into hell.

That’s how I felt when we saw him through the car windshield—a monster standing in the road, stark and alone under a full moon, eyes rimmed in blood.

“What is that?”  I gasped.

“No,” uttered my friend Melissa, in the tone of voice you use when you’ve just heard very bad news.  “Oh no.”

“A dog?” I peered through the glass.

He shambled off the road toward Melissa’s side of the car.

“I’m afraid so,” she said.

We had been minding our own business, Melissa Beamish and I, returning from our car tour around the island—one of the few days off either of us had taken in months—she from nearly half a year on her extraordinary mission volunteering in animal shelters around the world, including Animal Rescue Kefalonia; I from trying to rehab our old house here in Kefalonia, working on articles, and fostering a couple of street dogs.

Relaxed after a day of chatting and enjoying the eye candy—beaches, archaeological sites, and spectacular views of Greece's Ionian Sea—we were headed to my house for a late dinner.

Then suddenly, in the tiny foothill village of Troianata, there he was.

How foolish to have hoped we might make it through a day of sightseeing on this island without finding a dog in need. And dire need at that.

In two decades of dog rescue I had never seen anything more jolting. The eyes: red, inflamed, bloody.

Wait. Bloody eyes?

My foot moved to the brake, but indecisively. Of course we had to stop and do something. But what?  Out in the middle of nearly nowhere, at ten o’clock at night, with all three of the island’s veterinarians’ offices closed?

I pulled the car over and killed the engine. That, for some reason, triggered the dog to bark.

Melissa didn’t waste a second. She jumped right out of the car.

“Careful!” I warned. “Keep your distance.”

Telling Melissa Beamish to stay away from animal in need is like telling a fish not to swim.  But she’s no fool; she gave the dog his space.

“His legs,” she whispered.

We stood together in the road staring at one of the worst things either of us had ever seen: a tall, emaciated, black and white dog covered in lesions. Blood oozed from the open sores and inflamed skin in a mask of horror around his eyes, as well as on his paws and legs.

I could barely believe my eyes.  I didn’t want to.

More articles about this dog:

Safety versus guilt: The animal rescuer’s dilemma  

Dog rescue styles: Ms. Savvy-and-Sensible versus the Wahoooo Cowgirl

Please visit The Dozen Dogs Diaries again soon for more about our encounter with the bloody dog.

Read Melissa Beamish's excellent blog about her round-the-world trip volunteering in animal shelters.

To donate or volunteer to help animals in Kefalonia, contact Animal Rescue Kefalonia (ARK), or Kefalonia Animal Trust (KATs).

ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS unless otherwise noted

COPYRIGHT 2012

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!

Desperately Seeking Tula: Under a full moon

Flier for Tula kindly created by Menelaos Toumazatos

At a taverna perched on the stratospheric slope of a mountain in southern Kefalonia, I kept one eye on the glowing gold that a round, fat, self-satisfied moon was busily gushing all over Greece's Ionian Sea, and showed the waiter a flier bearing a photo of Tula.

Recently a tourist couple fell in love with the English pointer while on holiday there in the Old Skala area, I explained. The wandering dog was emaciated and seemed to have been mistreated. The couple fed, nurtured, and named her. They tried to arrange to take her home with them, but weren’t able to get the information they needed in time.

Now, back in Italy, they can’t stop thinking about her, and they wish to adopt her, if only she can be found.

The waiter studied the photo. "I just saw this dog half an hour ago--or at least one that looks like her--trotting by. She's been roaming around here for about a month."

I gave him and the taverna owner the flier with Tula's photo and the relevant telephone numbers, and asked if they'd please phone us right away if they see her again. Also I asked them to please tell other residents in the area that we would like to find the dog, and to remind them that her would-be adopters are offering a reward.

  

At each of the occupied tables, I passed out copies of the fliers and asked the patrons to please keep an eye out for Tula. The folks at one of the tables, about eight tourists from England, said they will be staying in the area for another three weeks, and that they would like very much to help find her. If they see her, they vowed, they'll try to round her up and keep her until we can get there to pick her up.

      

Driving up the eerily moonlit mountain, on a narrow track past mounds of rocks that might have been dozing monsters and twisted trees as wispy as wraiths, I stopped a few times to shake a container of dog kibble, and call out in an enticing voice, "Doggie? Tula doggie?  You have friends who miss you. Where are you, sweet girl?"

The only answer was the whisper of the wind.

Eventually I came upon the villa where the Italian couple had stayed. It loomed like a castle, large and lofty, at the end of a drive steep enough to deter pirates or anyone looking for a lost dog... almost.

"Hello?" I ventured, after hearing laughter from somewhere within.

The remote villa's current guests, a pleasant couple from Switzerland, said that someone else, probably my fellow volunteer who is also searching for Tula, had come by earlier in the day. They promised that if the pretty pointer should show up, they will try to lure and confine her until we can make it there.

On the way back downhill, I attached about eight copies of the signs to telephone poles. Now I harbor a profound hatred for the brown plastic tape that comes on those large rolls and was apparently designed by a sadist to hide the leading end of the tape so well you'll never find it, and to stick to your fingers, sleeve, and everything but the thing you're trying to tape, and to contort itself so that the sticky side is usually unavailable.

It's supposed to rain tomorrow so the signs will probably fall apart.

If I can I’ll go later in the week to look again for Tula on that strange mountain that's like the edge of the world—perfectly appropriate in the search for a dog whose life, perhaps, also hangs on the edge.

Many thanks for visiting!  Your Dozen Dog Diarist would be most grateful if you'd sign in with the "Join this site" button above to receive notifications of future posts.

ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS unless otherwise noted

COPYRIGHT 2012

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.