Showing posts with label Dog rescue. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dog rescue. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Reckless Abandon: The Universal Problem of the Stray Dog


Potcakes
The term potcake sounds like a stress relieving pastry one might have with one’s tea, but it’s the name for stray dogs found on the Caicos and Turks Islands and the Bahamas.  The actual origin of the name has to do with the crust of rice and pea mixture that forms at the bottom of the cooking pot when preparing that meal.  People in the Bahamas would feed these wandering dogs the mixture and the name became so associated with them that it stuck.  Officially the dogs are called the Royal Bahamian Potcake.
There's a magnet for that.

Potcakes are about 45-50 pounds when in good health, have floppy ears and a pronounced snout like a shepherd.  They make great companions when adopted but may have a tendency to wander.  They come in many colors, with short hair.

In New Providence in the Bahamas, there are about 11,000 strays.  According to Wikipedia, 1% of tourists visiting there said they were “turned off” by the dogs.  There’s always that one jerk, isn’t there?  At the time of this writing, the potcake dogs declined to comment on whether the tourist’s pasty body in a Hawaiian print shirt was a turn off.

Efforts to reduce the potcake population have included such extreme measures as having police shoot and poison the stray dogs.  Rescue groups have developed to tackle the issue, including Potcake Place http://www.potcakeplace.com/home


A little Sato family stayed close to us as
we camped on the beach in Puerto Rico.
Satos
I spent some time on the beach in Puerto Rico with a little tribe of stray dogs.  They were of various sizes and shapes.  They were friendly and affectionate, but they all seemed rather washed out as if bleached by the sun, making their sad, dark eyes stand out like polished onyx.  Their coats were dry and brittle and flecked with dandruff.

It is estimated there could be a million strays in Puerto Rico and there are accompanying rescue groups trying to mitigate the problem.  All Sato Rescue http://allsatorescue.org is one.  On their site they have some action items the public can take on to help, including making complaints to the tourism department, a valuable aspect of the Puerto Rican economy, for a humane solution to the problem.  In these overwhelmed communities, though, I shudder to think of the options.

Another issue is the shipping of strays from other territories and countries directly to the United States.  A dog breeder critic of mine who was unhappy with what Who Rescued Who?® stands for (simply the adoption of homeless animals with the philosophy that when one rescues an animal it often rescues you right back), pointed out that he does “not support the ‘throwaway’ society that promotes and glamorizes the ‘saving of poor unloved dogs’ that irresponsible breeding and importation of foreign dogs to US shelters produce.” Does he have a point?  I mean, no doubt he’s kind of a tool, but is shipping dogs here a bit like putting a used bandage on someone else’s wound?  We are not a kill free country so there must be a better answer and it boggles great minds.

In her blog entry, Dr. Barbara J. King, Chancellor Professor of Anthropology at the College
Little Sato at sunset.
of William
& Mary, describes the dynamic between homeless men and dogs on the beaches of Puerto Rico.  She describes them as “cross-species interactions.”  The men and dogs gather together by night.  The men protect the dogs from removal sweeps by authorities.  By day they go their own ways, but each night gather again into these protective huddles to sleep or at least spend time until daybreak.

There are spay and neuter voucher programs in Puerto Rico, but the need is so great they are simply overwhelmed.  And if people cannot afford to put food on the table, how could they entertain the feeding and vet bills of a dog?  Dr. King’s blog addresses the problems of humans and animals as interlaced, calling for compassionate solutions to these issues with all beings in mind.

Soi Dog (Street Dog)
In Bangkok, Thailand, it is estimated there are over 120,000 stray dogs.  Buddhist principles come into play against euthanasia, but the practice of turning a dog out into the street for natural forces to take over is practiced regularly.

Prior to major events in the community, great roundups occur in which they gather up dogs by the thousands and send them to shelters, or animal quarantine centers out of sight and mind.  Efforts by the government to solve the problem by way of requiring pet owners to register and microchip their dogs and fining owners if their animals are found wandering, backfired miserably.  These punitive methods cause non-compliance because in order to avoid fines, people under stress simply abandon their animals.

Historically, attaching fees or penalties to dog ownership increases the stray problem in that area.

A rescue organization trying to help is Soi Dog Rescue: https://www.soidog.org

Tammie Stevens, (The Lazarus Fund, Billy Fish Books
providing solace and rescue to dogs in Bundi, India.
Pariah Dogs
Initially this was a generic term for a wandering, scavenging dog.  However, the Indian Pariah Dog refers to a rust colored, dingo-like dog prominent in South Asia.  This dog has risen in status and is accepted as an increasingly desirable breed, with its sharp, intelligent eyes and pointy ears.

India has the highest number of strays in the world. Millions of people are attacked and bitten each year with some estimates of the resulting rabies death rate as high as 35,000 people annually.  Walking your dog in India is rather like walking a chunk of beef jerky on a stick.  Family dogs are surrounded and killed as their humans helplessly watch, unable to fight off the marauding canines.  Needless to say, the problem is vexing.  

Addressing the human/animal cohabitation issue, Arpan Sharma, chief executive of the Federation of Indian Animal Protection Organizations told New Delhi Journal reporter Gardiner Harris, “The first thing you need to start doing to reduce the stray population is manage your garbage better.”

Hindus oppose the killing of many animals, removing the euthanasia option for much of the population.  Proponents of euthanasia point to the fact that people should be able to walk the streets without fear of attack and death.

It’s a quandary, and a universal one.

Dogs
Conversely, in Holland, there is no stray dog problem, so we didn’t know what to call this section.  “Dogs” will have to suffice.  They have dogs, but not a problem.  There are no “Wooden Shoe” dogs begging for porridge or feral “Windmill Dogs” being a nuisance by chasing grazing sheep around.

In a detailed paper on the subject (link below), Isabelle Sternheim reveals how Holland is nearly completely stray free.

Like India, Holland had a stray dog problem that resulted in rabies outbreaks.  In the 1800's many families owned dogs and when they tired of them they were released onto the streets.  Rabies was a call to action and strict muzzle and leash laws were quickly put into place.  Regulations and taxes came into play and failed.  Poverty was the main culprit in the Holland dog problem.

Soon, however, Holland’s elite began to spread the connection between the appearance and health of the dog and the status of the dog’s owner.  Animal welfare began to increase.  Holland ushered in the dog-as-status-symbol in the mid 1860's (forerunner to the chihuahua-in-handbag days of more recent yore).  In 1886 animal abuse became a punishable offense.

Adherence to the culture’s respect of “personal liberties rather than universalism” instilled in the Dutch people a strong acceptance of individual differences among people.  They were, after all, as the author explains, “a small country that had to get by through interaction with other cultures.”  She says that the “empathy and observation” practiced by people of the Netherlands was a survival mechanism that soon became rooted in their collective psyche.  This empathy included a concern for the well being of animals.  Interestingly, Sternheim calls these practices “feminine” elements of their society, and says they are highly valued along with “caring, collectiveness, and separation of work and private life.”

Isabelle Sternheim makes a case for CNVR: Collect, Neuter, Vaccinate and Return.  She argues that even impoverished societies can manage this strategy if used alongside education and registration campaigns.

American Strays
And here in the US we have our collections of problems as well, some of which seem so trivial when held against the global backdrop of the Stray Dog as it relates to humankind, but some that are shared down to the finest detail.  We do our best to encourage our brothers and sisters around the world not to eat dogs, to be kind to animals, but have no solution for starvation and poverty and are often woefully unkind to one another. We so often fall short of practicing what many of us sometimes arrogantly preach.  But there are slivers of light along the way.  Aren't we all just strays anyway, seeking a sense of belonging and security?  Critics attack those bleeding heart dog rescuers as ignoring the human problem, but each grain of sadness is directly connected to the other.  There are enough problems for us to battle together, each using our own special strengths and passions to chip away slowly at the things that plague us.   


-Kiki Nusbaumer



Links in order:
http://www.billyfishbooks.com/Tammie-Stevens-bio.html
http://straydogscampaign.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/DR_Dutch-Straydogs.pdf

Monday, March 9, 2015

A Cautionary Tail (Adopt Capone)

Capone, a handsome, ball obsessed boy who deserves a good home.
He is available for adoption now at Rebound Hounds www.reboundhounds.org.
At Who Rescued Who? we are engaged in social media to communicate with our followers and to help us with research and promote our organization.  Each day as we peruse Facebook and Twitter there is a barrage of posts about animals in urgent need of rescue and placement.  We do our best to share the images of these dogs and cats who are earmarked for euthanasia.  These shares can save lives.  There is a powerful community advocating for these victims of the system, often surrendered by their humans for sometimes ludicrous, sometimes legitimate reasons.

On March 4th the face of a beautiful one-year-old pit bull filled the screen as we checked into our Facebook account.  His name is Capone.  He was surrendered by his human who cited “personal problems” as her reason for relinquishing him to the system.  So often our personal problems become theirs.  One could argue that men and women who experience personal problems do not relinquish their children.  The evolution of animals as family has made its way through parts of society, but we’ve such a long way to go.  Still, if an animal’s quality of life will suffer because an individual or family chooses to uphold their side of the bargain we make with our companions, regardless of the adversity they face, is it better to re-home them?  Certainly this must be determined on an individual basis.  Who knows what agony Capone’s adopter experienced when she knew she could not keep him.

Capone was slated for execution at noon that Wednesday.  A snow storm was headed east.
Capone's poster.
We had three hours to put a hold on him so he would be spared for one more day.

When all the online paperwork was finished there was one half hour to spare.  A half hour more of life, had no one spoken for this dog.  But he was safe, for now.  We are in Richmond, Virginia and he was in Manhattan.  I proceeded blindly, not tempered by reason or practicality, but for the sole purpose of saving his life.  With the bosses' blessing and two days off for the trip, I planned to depart at 6am the next day.  The dogs, Molly and Mazzy, were in the car with their winter coats packed, sleeping bags spread out, for their trip to meet the big guy in the Big Apple.

The snow began an hour into our journey.  It piled on 95, at times slowing traffic to 20 miles per hour.  The windshield was constantly coated with dirt and ice and the shoulders of the road were littered with vehicles less fortunate than us.  We powered on in our Suzuki Grand Vitara, 4 wheel drive the whole way.

We made it in ten hours.

In New York we made our way to NYC Animal Care and Control and found a parking space directly in front of the doors.  This made it seem as if the trip was blessed by some higher power, but our luck was about to run out.

When they brought Capone down we met him outside.  He was one of the most beautiful dogs I’d ever seen, with a golden coat and rippling muscles, head the size of a basketball and a wide goofy smile.  My little pibble seemed comfortable with Capone, but my small, 9 year old mix, the dog who’d been a loyal hearing ear dog for two deaf pit mixes, seemed terrified, growling and barking and trying to make herself big next to this giant of a pup.  It was an unusual reaction from her and my heart sank.  I tried to make light of it and went inside to talk to the staff.  The adoption counselor remarked on Molly’s behavior, freeing me to express my fears that this may be a poor match through no fault of Capone’s. 
“I don’t want to be ‘one of those people.'” I confided in him.  I wouldn’t leave Capone to be put down.  After some discussion I learned that Rebound Hounds (www.reboundhounds.org) had stepped up to rescue Capone if he wasn’t adopted.  One way or the other the dog’s life would be spared, but I was crestfallen as I piled my dogs back into the car.  I was plagued with the knowledge that in spite of my best intentions, I had let Capone down.

So we left New York City, getting lost for an hour before finding the turnpike.  In New Jersey we hit a drift in the right lane and slid toward the guardrail, thankfully not out into traffic.  I put the car into 4 wheel low and crawled out of the snow bank and down the exit ramp to get gas and collect myself.  After pumping gas I turned to get into the car and found all the doors locked.  My old dog Molly was sitting on my key chain.  She had locked me out with her butt.  It was bitterly cold and my fingers instantly began to freeze.  I knew it would not stay warm in the car much longer.  I knew I’d have to break the window, but not before pleading with Molly to press the “unlock” button, suddenly hoping she had Lassie-like tendencies.  Smart as she is, she either couldn’t understand my pleading or was still mad at me for assuming she’d be happy with a big brother, and curled into a doggy circle to watch me lose it outside.  It would be a cold ride home with no window.

I was close to crying when a trucker came walking across the parking lot toward me.  He held an unfurled coat hanger in his hand.  It may as well have been a lance and his brown jacket a suit of armor.

“I saw what you were doing.  My dog just did the same thing to me!”  He said and pointed toward a big rig with a dog seated in the passenger seat.

He jammed the hanger through the rubber seal of the driver side window and tried for a good 15 minutes to get the doors unlocked to no avail.  Then two more guys came up.  They held the antenna of their pick-up.  Bending it slightly, they pushed it through the window.  With my trucker friend helping guide them, in just a few tries they pressed the button to unlock the doors.  I would not have to shatter my window.  They refused my offer to pay them for a new antenna, saying simply, as they screwed it bank into its place on their truck, “We always use it for this.”  3 heroes at a New Jersey gas stop.  They are indelibly tied to my memory of Capone.  There are still really decent people out there; people who would help a complete stranger on a freezing night.

So then came the philosophizing as we headed back out into the night and I wallowed in
Seeking a forever home!  Find Capone at Rebound
Hounds in NY www.reboundhounds.org
self-pity as I drove, white-knuckle grip on the wheel.  The optimist might have a different take on all this.  So far we were all alive.  Indeed even Capone was at least alive.  I would have to take solace in that.  There is always something worse that can happen.

I looked through the rear-view mirror at Molly and Mazzy as they slept on their sleeping bags in the back, the initial shine of a car ride long since tarnished, giving way to the kind of exhaustion an overly long journey can induce.  They were cozy and warm.  I thought more of Capone and hoped he had a warm blanket and a few hugs as he moved over to Rebound Hounds for the next leg of his journey, a cramp of guilt sticking with me as we pulled out of Maryland and into Virginia.  And all these dogs left behind and in our prayers and good intentions make me think now of a line from the Sylvia Plath poem called The Jailer:  "My ribs show.  What have I eaten? Lies and smiles."

At 2am we arrived home.  I ran Molly and Mazzy out into the backyard to potty before bed, cheering them on quietly in spite of my fatigue (sorry Cesar Millan, it’s just how we roll: peepee and poopoo are much like a sporting event at our house).  As I waited in the quiet dark for them to run up the stairs I tried to figure out what was learned on this otherwise fruitless journey.  I tried to figure out if I was accidentally a bad person.  The hopeful rush of well wishers as I informed them of my plan to race up to New York to adopt Capone, the joy at the prospect of bringing home a big brother for my pups, the anti-climactic departure as I drove away without him; the heavy little empty place in me that was supposed to be filled by Capone; what have I learned? 


The words of the Urgent Help Center employee at NYC ACC:

“We see too often situations where people adopted a dog to save them and the dog ended up returned, in a bad situation, MIA or dead, so I would advise you to think through the worse case scenario and what you would do. Let us know if you have any additional questions.”

-Kiki Nusbaumer