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. 

On wandering dogs, grumpy rescuers, and the mighty microchip

Her special hello grin: 'Awful good to see ya, hon.'

Is it possible to resist a dog in need? For many people a messed-up dog in even the most wretched condition brings nary a second thought. But for some of us it’s pretty much religion to jump in. That’s how a beautiful collie mix and I ended up spending the past two days together here on a Greek island.

Her name, briefly, was “Dania” (Da-NEE-ah), Greek for Denmark. The reason for the choice is obvious, given the fact that my two previous rescued pooches this year, Kali and Mandi (formerly Diamandi), now live as princesses with their furever families in paradise on earth, which is how I think of that small but huge-hearted nation to our north.

Naming a dog after that land is the least I can do in homage to Danish group Graeske Hunde, who rescue, foster, and find homes for hundreds of Greek dogs every year.

But the collie mix’s real name, it turns out, is Trelitsa (Treh-LEET-sah), translating roughly to ‘Crazy Girl.’  This fact cracks me up, since my own nickname for her has been “Party Girl.”

Below you'll find Part One of how Dania went back to being Trelitsa.

(For the previous entry about her on The Dozen Dogs Diaries, please see:
The resentful rescuer: bad attitude, worse timing, but lots of really good dogs)

How to keep her cool?

What’s not to love about this dog?  One of the most charming and witty girls you’ll ever meet. 

You can just see her as a successful Division Chief of International Sales for, say, a tennis ball company, where she’d go to the marketing conventions and quickly have all the bigwig boys eating out of her pretty white-gloved paw with her good looks and corny but adorable jokes. 

“Which dogs are best for sending telegrams?” she’d ask, dead-pan.

“Which?” her rapt audience would egg her on.

You can just hear her sultry little chuckle at the punchline: “Wire-haired terriers!”

Then she’d fire off half a dozen more.

But it’s really rotten timing for a rescue around here. Already I’m way too behind on way too many projects. The flu and cough I’ve been battling wouldn’t help.

Also, how to keep a dog cool?  With repairs in progress on our house here in Greece (euphemism for brain-scattering chaos), many of the windows can’t be opened, so it’s a roast in here at above 92F every day around the clock. Dania, who wears a luxuriant minky coat, would be miserable indoors if not in outright danger.

Outside it’s about five degrees cooler, but it’s hard for me to leave a dog outdoors.  Not too different from leaving a basket of jewels in your backyard, if you ask me. Don’t you want to keep them inside where you can admire them? Where you can protect them?

(Caveat: Unless you’re doing so many rescues that you have no choice and have to kennel outside, in which case my hat’s off to you and all you do.)

The winter and spring rescues of Kali and Mandi/Diamandi hadn’t posed the heat problem. How, I kept wondering, was I going to pull this one off?

The clues

Meanwhile, Dania’s superb physical condition kept speaking to me. Clean, glossy coat, nails neatly trimmed, inner ears spotless, and not a trace of ticks or fleas. Plus she had the vibrant look of a spayed female. Not only are there no pendulous teats or other sagging lady parts, but she’s got the sort of spark as well as the contentment that you rarely see in girl pooches condemned to pump out litter after litter, year after year, in the backyards of bozos who can’t be bothered to spay them.

It all added up. This dog had recently come from someone’s home, I was willing to bet, and a home caring enough to do at least most of the right things.

Ergo, she must have a microchip.  Sure of it, I waited till evening when the pavement would be cool enough for a pooch’s paws. Then I laced on my walking shoes, which had sat idle for the week I’ve been sick, dropped a couple of cough lozenges into my pocket, leashed up the mystery girl, and set off for the trudge up the hill to the vet.

The blessed beep

“In the morning, as soon as they’re open, I’ll call the veterinary headquarters in Patras on the mainland,” said the vet. “They’ll be able to track this down.”

One of the sweetest sounds I’d ever heard had been the beep of the chip scanning wand a few minutes earlier. 

“With a little luck we’ll be able to find her family tomorrow.”

“Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” I gave Dania an ear rub. She gave me one of her beaming Julia Roberts smiles in reply. 

And the smile was even bigger now because we were both luxuriating in the vet’s air conditioning. 

“Just in case, though, I’ll get some shampoo for a bath tomorrow,” I said. “You’re pretty clean, but a fresh-up would be nice, huh, girlfriend?”

The vet brought me the bottle then waved me off.  “I’ll call you in the morning as soon as I hear.”

“Oh you don’t have to call,” I said.

“I don’t?”

“No. Because we’ll be here.”

The vet puzzled at me over her glasses.

“I’ll sleep on your exam table, and Dania will curl up on your desk. You have A/C.  We’re not leaving.”

Rough night

All night I worried about Dania. We did not, in the end, get to sleep in the vet’s office.

The veranda off the bedroom here is securely fenced and swept by night breezes, but what about mosquitoes?  The citronella oil I’d sprayed on her tends to wear off after a while.

Half a dozen times I got up to spy on her through the glass door. Were insects sucking her dry?  If they were, she never stirred.  Every time I peeked at her she was in exactly the same spot and in the same position, stretched out languorously on the cement floor, eschewing the little bed I’d set out.

After grabbing just a couple of hours sleep I woke up at nine to find Dania still in the same spot. Now I worried she’d fainted or something. But as soon as I appeared she wagged her fat, fluffy wand of a tail and shot me her special hello grin, where she squints her eyes and bows her head a little as if to say, “Awful good to see ya, hon.”

After escorting her into the yard for her morning duties, then giving her breakfast and a fresh bowl of chilled water, I hurried to the phone to call the vet.

“I tried ringing you,” she said, “several times.”

“I slept late. Does this mean there’s news?”

“We found her mother. She is sick with worry. She has been crying for two days.”

“Good grief.  Where is she?”

“She’s one of your neighbors. Hasn’t she called you?”

“She might have. I was out cold.  Well, not cold.  Not cold at all. Not even cool.  Not like your office, where— “

“She’s going to call you.”

“Can I call her?

“I’ll call her and tell her to call you.”

“Why can’t I call her?”

“Protocol.  Technically the owners’ numbers are private. She’ll call you.”

“Ooph! This is all so complicated,” I said. “But OK.  I’m waiting.”

“By the way,” the vet began, “you see now—this is why you should not pick up stray dogs.”

“What?”

“They might belong to somebody. You wear yourself out for nothing.”

“Ha!  You’re one to talk!  You rescue all the time.”

“But the girl, the dog’s mom, has been anguished. So worried.  She was crying.”

“Did the dog escape from her house or something?”

“No. She lets her roam.”

"Great.”  My heart sank.  “Just great. And you think this a good idea?”

“Of course not, but— “

“Don’t tell me not to pick them up. First of all I didn’t pick this dog up.  She picked me up. She glommed onto me. She spotted me, glued herself, and literally followed me home. Did you want me to slam the gate in her face?  To leave her in the busy street, where could get mushed by a car or poisoned or shot like all the others, and on such a hot night with no water, not to mention no food?”

The vet sighed.  “I know, I know.”

“And another thing.  You of all people know much better than I what these animals face. You rescue as many as or more than anybody. You’re a superhero.  I’ve seen you in action. And I’ve seen how it wears you out.”

A second sigh.  “OK. Let me get off the phone. I’ll call her. Tell her everything you told me. Maybe it will get through.”

“And another thing— “

“No. No other things. I have patients waiting.”

I hung up with a gratified smile. When you do rescue, it’s a blessing to have a vet who’s made just as irritable by the whole mess as you are.

To be continued...

(For the previous entry about Dania/Trelitsa on The Dozen Dogs Diaries, please see:
The resentful rescuer: bad attitude, worse timing, but lots of really good dogs)


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!

The resentful rescuer: bad attitude, worse timing, but lots of really good dogs

The Party Girl's smile: 'Well, but haven't we been friends forever?'

Rescuing animals is necessary, noble, heaven’s work.  It can also be a pain in the rear.

Looking back, most of us don’t regret any of the rescues we’ve done--only the ones we weren’t able to do. And yet, sometimes the timing is off.  In fact usually the timing is off.  You don’t get to pick the timing.  You’re there, the dog is there (or the cat or horse or hedgehog), and wa-hoooo the party starts.

Last night around midnight, the timing was most definitely off, but the party started anyway.  And gotta admit, this one—this latest one from whom it was impossible to walk away—is quite the party girl.  Ms. Congeniality.  Friendly in the most relaxed, "Well, but haven’t we been friends forever?" kind of way.

It’s just that I’m supposed to be doing other things right now. Just as I was supposed to be doing them in December, when rescue girl Kali came along, and in April, when rescue girl Diamandi (now Mandi) showed up. 

I’m supposed to be doing a bunch of other things.  For example, applying the bandages and splints to our broken-down old house here in Greece so I can get finally get home to hubsy and to our own large pack of pooches. Not to mention all the reporting, writing, and editing that needs to happen for our brand-new website.

Curses and catarrh upon whoever dumped or misplaced her. Grumbles and groans at all who saw her and walked on by.

Oh well. So what else is new?  It’s an old story by now. You’re either able to turn your back or you’re not.  If you’re one of the “nots” (notice how close that is to "nuts"?) you’re in for a lot of hassle.

However, as rescue girl #3 reminds me with her wildly wagging tail and twinkling eyes every time I even so much as glance at her, you’re also in for a lot of head-over-heels, nothin’-else-like-it doggie love.

To start from the start, here’s what got posted on Facebook as soon as your Dozen Dogs Diarist could make it to the laptop after last night’s escapade.

“Moral support, pls? Apparently I am now fostering this year’s dog #3. An hour ago was innocently walking back from the little neighborhood grocery, and there she was, in the street in front of the taverna. Never seen her before. She came right up and looked into my eyes, then CLUNG to me, glued herself to my leg.

“Asked the taverna staff if they knew anything about her. Shrugs. Blank if not hostile stares. And I thought they were my friends. If I see one more of those shrugs in regards to an animal, watch out. I am not in the mood for this cr*p anymore. We are adults. We can put out a little freakin' h20 for a lost dog, can't we? A bit of food? And actually SAY something when someone asks about her? Not just that infernal shrug???

“She is now on my fenced veranda, with chilled water and food and a bed, because it's too broiling hot in the house even for me.

“Sweetest dog imaginable. In good condition. Maybe she just wandered away from her home. Tomorrow I'll ask around. But I'm fighting the flu and a bad cough and can't help but feel furious at that taverna and at the dozen or so fools who walked right past her just during the time I was asking about her. Couldn't be bothered to take a little responsibility. I know, it’s idiotic to expect anything different.

“Sorry to vent. Thanks for listening. It will work out. She's an angel and I'm not sorry we crossed paths. Just tired. Update tomorrow. Love you all. Bless you for all you do. Grateful to be among you. For one thing, because I know you understand. xoxoxo”

Love you, too, dear reader, for coming along on yet another ride with The Dozen Dogs Diaries.

Coming up next:  More pics and an update on our new girlfriend

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!

Rescuers urge police to investigate case of fatally starved dog Kingston

Kingston, sick and starving, abandoned by owners, ignored by neighbors
Photo credit:
Yvette Holzbach

The following entry was also posted on Animal Policy Examiner, another page written by your Dozen Dogs Diarist.

On a broiling hot day last weekend, a small team of volunteer animal rescuers ventured into one of Houston’s most impoverished neighborhoods. They spent five hours under the urban sun, combing a large apartment complex for a sick, starving dog who a visiting health care worker had reported as needing help.

Finally they spotted “Kingston,” severely emaciated, his skin grotesquely bald, flaking, and inflamed. The friendly animal tried to approach one of the rescuers, but he was too weak. He simply collapsed on the side of the road.

Although his rescuers revived him, held him, got him to a veterinarian, and kept vigil around the clock, Kingston was only to enjoy their love and care for one day.

Abandoned, it is believed, by his owner months ago, and subsequently ignored by the hundreds of residents in the two-block long complex as he struggled to survive heart worm, sarcoptic mange, and harsh weather on little or no food or water, Kingston passed away on Sunday.

He left behind profound grief and troubling questions for his rescuers and for the many who closely followed his harrowing story.

Today Animal Policy Examiner posed some of the questions to Anna Barbosa of Corridor Rescue, Inc. (CRI) the group that worked together with Forgotten Dogs of the 5th Ward Project to help Kingston.

Barbosa is a board member, PR coordinator, and fundraising director for CRI.

Interview with Anna Barbosa of Corridor Rescue, Inc.

Animal Policy Examiner: Do you know if there's any possibility of Kingston's owner being located and charged for abandoning or neglecting him?

Anna Barbosa: A police report is expected to be filed. From there, all we can do is hope.

I think that since the owner had been gone from that location for so long, it likely is not going to happen. We still need to go through the process of filing the police report and hope for an investigation.

We can’t give up.

Animal Policy Examiner: What does it mean to you and to CRI to have been involved in helping Kingston?

Anna Barbosa: We help so many animals in various stages of distress. These cases tear us apart because it is inconceivable that so many people just ignore and turn away. I don't understand how you can look away when you see an animal in pain. We are grateful to have assisted with Kingston. Hopefully he understood that he was loved.

Unfortunately, we've come across this several times. My own Freddie is a CRI dog who was is serious shape with broken bones, mange, worms. I think he survived because he was a younger dog. We also, recently rescued Crockett, but it was also too late for him.

Animal Policy Examiner: What role did CRI play for Kingston?

Anna Barbosa: When Kelle Mann Davis of Forgotten Dogs of the 5th Ward Project put out the plea to help her with Kingston, our board members wasted no time stepping forward to be of assistance. We never considered the cost for care; we would figure that out later. This dog was suffering and we needed to help him.

Animal Policy Examiner: Did you plan to pay for his medical expenses?

Anna Barbosa: We were prepared to pay for all of his medical expenses. These types of dogs require extensive immediate care and extensive long term care. We knew it was going to be expensive as we have experienced with so many of our other rescues.

Corridor Rescue operates solely on donations. Fortunately, when we have such a critical dog, our donors feel the call to help and their donations will help to mitigate the financial cost of care.

Animal Policy Examiner: Would you have fostered/re-homed him?

We absolutely would have fostered and re-homed Kingston. Once we commit to a dog, we give the best medical care, socialization, training if necessary, and we carefully interview potential adoptive families. We will continue to advise the adoptive family if additional issues arise.

Animal Policy Examiner: For many observers the most troubling part of Kingston's story is that out of all those local residents and for all that time nobody helped him. Why do you think that was so?

Anna Barbosa: That is an excellent question and puzzles us. I think depending on the perspective, some would say it is a cultural issue, others might say lack of education about animal care, or maybe it is a function of some type of social psychological thinking: "someone else will take care of it."

Animal Policy Examiner: Is CRI doing any sort of outreach, perhaps especially in those lower-income areas of Houston, to educate residents about animal care and what they can do when they see strays, etc.?

Anna Barbosa: Yes, we have an education team that goes into the schools and talks to the kids about animal care and animal abuse. We are getting requests from more schools to present and we hope that this will help educate these kids with a better understanding about how to interact with animals and how to respect them. We want to give them information about what they should do in a situation like this.

We have a program called C.A.R.E.S., where we go into this area and provide education, pay for spay/neutering, and provide pet food to low income pet owners.

We also have a program called Project HEEL. It is a partnership with the Harris County Juvenile Probation Department. Our volunteers mentor the boys in the program and three of our rescue dogs live with the boys. A professional dog trainer works with the boys and the dogs. This program helps them with a sense of accomplishment, compassion, and responsibility.

Animal Policy Examiner: I know the following question would probably take pages upon pages for you to answer, but what are your opinions about where the Houston city authorities are in all this?

Anna Barbosa: We feel that attitudes are slowly turning for the better. Of course it has been frustrating for us but we just have to keep doing what we do to help these animals and continue to bring awareness to the public and city authorities.

Animal Policy Examiner: Why isn't the city penetrating those neighborhoods with education campaigns and better enforcement of animal welfare laws?

Anna Barbosa: That would be a lovely idea.

Animal Policy Examiner: Why is it up to private rescue volunteers like yours and not city authorities to go out and help all these animals?

Anna Barbosa: Perhaps we just need the right people in office who take these issues seriously. I don't know about the workings of city authorities and budgets, etc. We do know that it is in our best interest to get more involved at that level, but for now, we are just trying to stay afloat with all of the dogs and cats who need rescue.

We do it because it is a passion for us. We care deeply about these animals.

I wish we could better enforce the chaining law, better enforce animal cruelty law, better enforce animal abandonment law.

I would love not to have to find one more injured, mangy, and starving animal hiding in a ditch.

I would love not to find a dead pit bull on the street on a Sunday morning. Dead because it lost a dog fight from the previous night.

I would love not to read the story about the female dog whose ears were cut with scissors so she could pass as a pit bull.

Case after case, you get a sickening feeling in your stomach so until we can change minds, prosecute the abusers, solve the homeless animal problem, we will all be involved in helping these dogs.

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!

Sunday Snickers: Researchers hail benefits of dog spit

Laboratory technician Skipper applies substance in question to skin of research subject #22

Photo: Elena Gerostathopoulou

The question has loomed for as long as canines have hung around with primates. Should we or should we not allow dogs to kiss us?

According to a new study, if we wish to preserve our health and well-being, we definitely need to let the pooch give us that smooch.

Researchers at Laika University in Rin Tin Tin, Virginia today announced their findings that not only is dog saliva harmless, it is actually beneficial.

Writing in The Journal of Human-Animal Symbiosis Dr. Patrick J. Pupwhipt reported that the controversial substance possesses demonstrably curative powers, especially in the larger quantities produced in the mouth of, for example, a St. Bernard or a Great Dane.

Further, Pupwhipt and his colleagues maintain that humans who abstain from regular applications of canine oral fluids run the risk of falling prey to several debilitating illnesses.

Doggie drool boosts immunity

Titled “Canine Saliva and Human Health,” the study found that:

• Certain enzymes in dog spit can boost human immunity to a variety of ailments such as hissy fits, temper tantrums, tempests in teapots, and worry warts.

• Thirty-two percent of the humans used in the study were genetically incapable of long-term function without semi-regular applications of canine slobber. They were found to be prone to such behaviors as curling up into balls and telling everybody to “Go away and just bring me a dog,” banging their heads against the wall and moaning “Only my dog understands me,” hoarding food from meals in the hope that they would encounter a dog, and babbling streams of nearly unintelligible endearments through grateful tears when they finally did.

• The beneficial potency of dog spit increases by approximately 92% when applied directly by a dog, either transdermally to the hand, cheek, nose, or ear, or most powerfully, onto the lips in the traditional “pooch smooch.”

In the double-blind, four-year-long study technicians administered thrice-daily doses of doggie drool to some of the 107 human subjects while leaving other subjects spit-less.

Ranging in age from one to 86 years, the humans were obtained from Sunny Dell Farms, an Arizona breeding and boarding facility, and selected based on a variety of criteria including their genes, overall health or lack thereof, psycho-emotional temperament, socialization level, and touch tolerance, so as to provide a broad sampling of people in general, according to Pupwhipt.

Study results questioned

Critics of the study, such as the American League of Observant Felines (ALOOF) allege that the Laika University scientists relied on too many indeterminate variables.

ALOOF Chief Science Analyst Dr. Mittens questions some of the methods used by the researchers. “For example, how recently had the dogs from which the slobber was collected performed personal hygiene?  If a good deal of time had elapsed since they last did, well… you know, the kinds of things that dogs do… then the dog germ level in the samples might appear more benign than would be accurate. Dog germs are a real and present threat. That is fact.”

Mittens also charged that the researchers received the majority of their funding for the study from Canine Association for Relaxation and Enjoyment (CARE), an organization with whom ALOOF is frequently at odds.

“Receiving money for a study from any particular interest group is never a good way to ensure reliability,” she said. “Results could easily be skewed this way or that to suit those sponsoring the research.”

CARE top dog under scrutiny

Mittens went on to point out that CARE president and CEO Bowzer currently faces investigation by the United States Department of Justice (DOJ). Sources within DOJ confirmed to The Dozen Dog Diaries that the four-year-old Labrador retriever is alleged to have accepted bribes from several dog biscuit manufacturers in exchange for his group’s endorsements of political candidates supported by the companies.

“Are the results of that Laika University study really the kind of information you want to accept without question?” Mittens queried. “I think this issue deserves a great deal of further examination.”

CARE’s Bowzer did not reply to several email and telephone inquiries from The Dozen Dog Diaries.

However CARE Media Relations Manager Reggie responded with an email stating: 

“The Laika University research team has finally provided the definitive answer to a question long debated. CARE celebrates the conclusion that we and many others have always known in our hearts to be true.

“It’s a well-established fact that the company of a canine is the best medicine for most human troubles. Now we can all rest assured that to cure what ails you, there’s just about nothing better than the love, fidelity, and now scientifically-proven therapeutic value contained in that simple and ancient natural remedy: a dog’s kiss.”

The Dozen Dog Diaries wishes to thank laboratory technician Skipper and research subject #22, a.k.a. Benedikte Bjerre of Graeske Hunde, for allowing use of their images on this page.

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!