American refugees

There is a good article in The Globe and Mail which mentions Open Arms Pound Rescue, one of the rescues Toronto Animal Services South often takes dogs from to adopt out here, Changing the world – one dog (or cat) at a time :

A new kind of underground railroad is shepherding dogs and cats rescued from U.S. shelters to safety – and new families – in Canada.

Every weekend, volunteer drivers load up their cars with furry refugees and cross the border, sometimes following the very same routes that once guided runaway slaves to freedom. Each driver handles a roughly hour-long leg, rendezvousing and transferring animals in parking lots and rest stops until they reach their destination.

One such network, Open Arms Pound Rescue, has moved an estimated 2,000 dogs (and a few cats) from shelters in the South and Midwest since it started in 2007. Co-founder Lucy Moye, based in Michigan, was working with a high-kill shelter in Ohio when she realized she could save a lot more dogs if she could match them with adoptive families and rescue groups in other areas.

Red Lake Rosie's Rescue by Sarah Beth

(All photos used with permission)


Photographer Sarah Beth recently went to document the fabulous work being done at Red Lake Rosie's Rescue in northwestern Minnesota.

The animals are picked up from garbage dumpsters, along highways, and are surrendered by their owners. Most of the animals suffer from disease, starvation, or injury, and many are very young. Some of the animals have mange, which is common in dogs that have malnutrition and disease. The rescued animals are temporarily sheltered at Red Lake Rosie's and then transported to foster homes in the Twin Cities.



See the rest of Sarah Beth's amazing photos and accompanying words here.

Social media

photo by Nikki Audet

Nico, a deaf and battered Dogo Argentino, was doomed to spend the last few days of his hard life in an L.A. shelter utterly without hope - that is until animal rescuer and photographer Nikki Audet took a photo of him and posted it online on a blog she runs with rescue partner Jf Pryor, The Mutt Scouts’ blog (Be sure to read through the rest of their blog as well. It'll break your heart one moment and send you over the moon the next).

The photo deeply affected many people who saw it and pretty soon it was being sent all over the internet. Connections were made, another rescuer got involved, a shelter on the other side of the country offered a spot for Nico, transports were arranged, and finally, after several weeks of working with Nico, a permanent home was found.

And Nico transformed into this dog:

photo by Deena Crouch of Humane Society for Hamilton County

You can read the details of Nico's cross country transport here and the full story up to Nico's adoption here and of course Nico has his own facebook page so if you want to know what he's up to now, you can go here. This is all truly inspirational.

I've been having some discussions recently about online social media and if and how it helps get animals saved. I don't have any hard numbers but I think we are all starting to realize that the more we are part of the wider community, the easier it will be to achieve no more homeless pets, and the internet helps turn the world into one big rescue community.

It certainly worked for Nico.

The animal rescuer

From the NY Times, an audio slideshow, Stefanie Rinza: The Animal Rescuer - a nice piece for a Sunday evening.

Choices

Sometimes when there's room at Toronto Animal Services South, they'll bring in dogs from other jurisdictions to try to get them adopted out in Toronto. Quite often these dogs are from Quebec but sometimes TAS will also select dogs from the U.S., usually from a high kill shelter in Ohio because the contacts, process and transport are established.

So how do you choose the dogs? There's only so much money. There's only so much space. You can't take them all. Do you choose the puppies because they will go quickly or do you leave them behind because you hope they'll stand an okay chance of being adopted even where they are? Do you choose the older dogs because they have no chance where they are or do you leave them behind because, well, they're older dogs and most people don't want them? Do you choose the black dogs because there's some prejudice against black dogs in the States and not so much here? Do you choose the purebreds or the mutts? Do you choose the big or small? Do you choose the shy or the outgoing?

It might seem like a feel good job to be able to do something like that, rescue dogs from elsewhere, but how good would it feel if you knew that in choosing one dog, the ones not chosen would likely die? How do you choose?

(click on images to enlarge)









These are ones that were chosen from the above and with help from Open Arms Rescue, they arrived in Toronto a couple of days ago:

Roman

Rollo

Raisin

Parker

Jayden

Godspeed to these five in finding their new homes and God help those left behind.

For adoption information on these and other dogs (and cats and other animals), please visit Toronto Animal Services.

Muttville

Heartwarming.

Update on Border Collie pup #4

photo by Brian McInnis

from Brian:

The dog is sitting in the back yard and accepting treats from our hand. He's also found his voice and barking at a squirrel. As a bonus he's let us remove the leash and put it back on a few times without going crazy. Getting him back inside the house might be a handful but I genuinely think he's going to be okay in the long run.

Since so many people from Leslieville were involved in the dog's rescue we decided to name him Leslie. Still very nervous on the leash and around loud noises but plays well in the off-leash park and loves other dogs. No separation anxiety when I leave and hasn't had a single indoor accident. He follows us from room to room and sleeps by our side during the day and in the mudroom at night. Amazing progress in 8 days.

600 Greyhounds

Just received:

PLEASE HELP!!! CONTACT INFO IS BELOW - DO NOT REPLY TO THIS EMAIL AS IT IS A XPOSTING> THANKS~!!

PLEASE HELP! WE NEED TO SAVE ALL these dogs! HELP IS NEEDED FROM ACROSS THE ENTIRE USA!

After racing their entire lives, now they'll be put to sleep because ..... There's too many of them???? ?? This is unacceptable! These dogs are sooooo sweet natured!!! Maybe some folks up in Canada would be able to take some of them?????

Please circulate across the country. This is a crime. DEADline is August 24th!! Please get the word out BIG TIME ... this will be a monumental task. If you know anyone that would be willing to help one of these retired greyhounds, please read email below. Please crosspost. Here is the number to call if you need more information REGAP can be reached at 816-763-3333 email contact is: LHolloway1948@aol.com

The Woodlands Racetrack in Kansas City is closing August 24th. I have spoken with REGAP (Retired Greyhounds as Pets) here in Kansas City. There are 600 Greyhounds at the track. Greyhound rescue estimates they will be able to get 200 into the rescue network. The Woodlands is one of the last stop race tracks in the Greyhound racing industry, the remaining 400 will be 'returned' to the breeders and likely put-to-sleep. They need as much help as they can get for fosters, adoptions, transports, etc.

PLEASE contact them if you can help and forward to friends you know who may be able to help, as well.

REGAP can be reached at 816-763-3333.

Thanks!

5 - part 3

Continued from previous.

Anne and Pete have been running a very commendable dog rescue just north of Toronto for over ten years and they've agreed to foster one of the five border collies but now talking to Pete on the phone, he's expressing some concerns about the anxiety level of the dog around people. They rehabilitate dogs - and from what I've heard, they do a great job of it - but as with any shelter with limited time and funds (which is of course all shelters), taking on a severely troubled dog and dedicating enough resources to it means that other dogs will be denied. Is it worth trying to save the life of the one dog at hand when the lives of two or three others might be lost? An impossible question to answer. Still, they're willing to give the pup a try and provide it with a foster home. I suspect, this decision comes more from the goodness of their hearts than from logic.

My car is parked on the street and I'm getting it ready to transport the pup up to Ann and Pete's. I have the back seat pulled down so that the back area is open to the trunk. I spread out a large piece of thick plastic over the whole section and tape it down. Someone walks by and checks out what I'm doing and I tell her with a smile that it's my turn to move the body tonight but her eyes just go buggy and she moves off.

Later, at Toronto Animal Services, James gives me some additional absorbant blankets to put on top of the plastic and then we head upstairs to the kennels to fetch the pup.

Like its siblings, well, actually somewhat worse than its siblings, this scared young dog flattens to the floor and goes rigid as soon as the leash is attached to its collar. James ends up dragging it a bit but then decides to pick it up, first wrapping the loose leash around its muzzle for safety against a possible bite. When a dog is this frightened, it's best to take some precautions when lifting it up within range of one's face. On the way to the elevator, while in James' arms, the pup poops and the two blobs fall ignominiously onto the floor. Outside, we try to get it pee on the grass (by saying stuff like, "Go pee, nice puppy, go pee" because, like, that works) but the pup just wants to either tear off or flatten against the ground.

James carries the pup into my car and immediately, it scoots into the furthest back corner in the trunk. It stares out at us from the darkness like the frightened wild animal it is.

James discusses directions up to Ann and Pete's while I only half pay attention. The other half is wondering what the plan will be if the pup poops in the car. Oh well, then so it goes.

The drive up is without incident except at one point when I get a whiff of urine but I'm not sure if that's old dried stuff or freshly wet stuff. Oh well, so it goes.

At least the pup seems to be relaxing a bit. It's got its head up and it's looking around. It really is a beautiful young dog.

About a block away from the destination address, I spot a man by the side of the road in a Tilley hat and sunglasses walking two beagles and guess that he's Pete from the on-line photos. I stop to say hello and he directs me to his driveway and says he'll be there shortly.

I park and exit the car and open the back door. Now the pup is tense again. I grab the leash so that it doesn't jump out and flee when I open the trunk. At first, it doesn't want to come out at all and it plays a game of avoidance going from the door to the trunk to the door to the trunk again as I go back and forth trying to coax it out. Eventually, with enough coaxing and much pulling, I get the pup out but instead of trying to bolt, it ducks under the car and squeezes up against the tire.

"That's not good," Pete says as he walks up the drive.

The pup isn't moving from beneath the car.

"Does he have a flat collar on?" Pete asks.

I know what he's going to say. A flat collar, basically a regular collar, will slip off over the head of the pup if it resists enough and it's resisting enough and the flat collar is indeed starting to slip. It's already come over one ear so I release the tension.

"That's going to come off," Pete says.

"Yeah, looks like it," I say.

We stand there surveying the situation. I find it a little funny that now so close to the end of the pup's journey, it manages to lodge itself into a spot where we can't get it out and I'm about to crack some joke but then I look at Pete and he doesn't look so amused. I start doing a little inner prayer that he's still going to take the pup.

Ann comes out to meet us. The instant I see her and hear her speak, I sense a gentleness about her and I know that if anyone can get the pup out it'll be her.

We try a few things. Cooing voices, a broom to push, some dog snacks (which the neighbour brings over), but finally it comes down to Ann getting down and slowly and gently putting a slip collar around the neck of the pup. And then she pulls it out.

Pete lifts the pup up and holds it in his arms. I ask if he'd like something wrapped around it's muzzle but he says that if it was going to bite it would have bit already. Of course he's right. The pup is scared, panting, drooling scared but it's not a biter.

I say goodbye to them as they take the pup away.



After I get home, I open up an e-mail from James. He writes that as he walked back into the facility after having loaded the pup into my car, he smelled poop. He didn't see any on the floor but after checking around a bit, he discovered that a clump of it had fallen into his boots - must've been while he was carrying the pup to the elevator earlier. Of course I had to laugh over this final parting gift given to the guy whose actions had just saved the lives of five Border Collie puppies.

5 - part 2

Continued from previous.

It took a while, what with all the squealing and gnashing of its miniature teeth, but I finally managed to pick up the baby raccoon without scaring it to death. It was the size of a grapefruit as it lay curled up rigid in my hands. I didn't want it getting a heart attack from too much handling, if raccoons even get heart attacks, so I was going to just quickly place it over the fence where its siblings were hanging on the tree branch but as I was bringing it over, it started to move. It uncurled. It looked at me. It sniffed. And then it relaxed. I stopped and we stared at each other for a few seconds before I reached out with it in my hand and tried to put it down on the tree limb where its siblings were waiting for it. It didn't want to go onto the limb. Instead it tried to climb down my arm. I picked it up with my other hand and had to place it down on the branch, had to make sure it had a good grip on the branch before I quickly let it go and withdrew my hand.

After my first encounter with the Border Collie pups, I go back into the room where they are kept and try to feed them some dried liver snacks. I have it on good authority (from my two discerning canines at home) that most dogs looove liver snacks. I try to woo the tan and white one first. It sniffs the snack, looks at me, sniffs the snack. It licks its lips, yawns, looks at me, sniffs the snack. The licking and yawning are classic signals of anxiety in a dog. It wants the snack but my presence is making it too anxious to eat. Maybe it thinks I will get angry if I see it eating the snack. Maybe it's performance anxiety. I don't know. But I do know it's not shying away like it did earlier. It's not moving to the back of its kennel as far away from me as possible.

I try out the other pup that seemed to hold some promise. I push in a snack and this black and white pup exhibits the same behaviour as his brother. A lot of interest in the food accompanied by anxiety signals and no actual eating. But there's something different about this one. It's actually interested in my presence. It's staying near the front of the cage, leaning against the door, looking at me. There's maybe even a slight wagging of the tail.

I open the door slowly, not wanting to startle it. It backs up, but not all the way. Then its head peaks out from around the corner. Then it takes a step forward. Then another step. Then it comes to me and puts its muzzle into my hands.



I go tell James about this, that maybe they're not all hopeless and he tells me that he's already phoned a few rescue people who are going to drop by to have a look at them.

Kylie and Karie show up to meet the tan and white one. It starts out as a struggle for the young dog but his fear gives way to curiosity then the beginnings of trust. They take the dog home with them.



Luan from Border Collie rescue also shows up and she ends up taking two of the Collies with her. The worst one and the best one, she says. She is cautiously optimistic about them. She's had experience with extremely shy dogs before and has managed to bring them around.

The fourth one is also spoken for by a foster but will have to wait a couple of days before it gets picked up. That's not such an ordeal for this guy because it's not doing too badly in his kennel. At least it's eating.

The fifth one, is a different story. It hasn't touched its food in several days. It just tries to keep still, hoping whatever scary thing lurking around the corner might pass it by. It seems to be always up on its claws, like it's afraid of the hard, shiny floor. James was originally going to drive it up to Anne and Pete's Foster Home for Dogs the following day, as they'd agreed to take it, but now he's thinking it would be better to get the dog out sooner.

Three hours later, I'm driving up the 400 and the last Border Collie puppy to be fostered is pissing in the back of my car.

Continued here.

5 - part 1

Maybe some guy is cruising on Kijiji, that great on-line advertising venue for backyard breeders and puppy profiteers, and sees a load of ads selling puppies for $500 a pop and thinks, "Fuck yeah, I could do that," so he gets a couple of Collie types together and mates them and a while later out pops a bunch of pups. Maybe they all make it, maybe some of them die, who knows, but he ends up with five. Very cute puppies, of course, and he can feel the filthy lucre already splayed across his greasy palms. His knowledgeable friends tell him he'll make a killing with these pups even though none of them actually want to take any of the pups home themselves. One friend maybe mentions it to his girlfriend, asks if she'd like a little ball of fur but she says, "Fuck that, I'm not picking up crap".

The puppies may have started out in a box inside the house, but after a couple of weeks the novelty's worn off, their mewling's getting to the guy and now they're pissing and shitting all over, so the guy puts them in the backyard where he doesn't have to smell them or hear them and anyway there's all sorts of junk they can crawl under for shelter if they need it.

Four weeks in and word of mouth isn't selling the pups so maybe the guy eventually gets an ad out on Kijiji and lists them at what he thinks is a bargain price at least compared to what those snooty registered breeders would sell them for.

His ad goes something like this: "Bargain Price!! AMAZING, BEAUTIFUL true English Style border collie babies! Super Calm, gentle, brown, white and black. Parents great dogs. Fathers dad grand champion! Parents registered. Shots, wormed, vet certified healthy! Father working towards his Therapy Dog Certificate". Maybe he attaches to his ad a couple of pictures of Border Collie puppies he's found on the internet that look close enough to his own pups.

He waits for customers to call but no one calls. Not one person. When the lack of response starts to sink in, the guy decides he'd better lower the price. The puppies are starting to be a pain in the ass. His friends are no longer interested in coming over to see them. Some of his friends are actually snickering behind his back about his stupid puppy money making scheme. He starts to resent the puppies and doesn't interact with them at all except to throw them food and water every so often. As a matter of fact, no one interacts with the pups.

It's three months in and even with the lowered price, still no one calls for the pups.

Maybe someone does eventually call, say at month seven, now that the guy's lowered his price even further. Maybe this guy actually does get a call from someone and manages to talk that person into coming over and taking a look at them. "They're fuckin' cute," he says. "And they're really fuckin' smart. They're great with kids and you can make 'em fuckin' guard dogs, too. Protect your house." So that person who's bargain hunting for a dog for her kids goes to this guy's house and the guy takes her into the backyard. Unfortunately, by this point, the pups are wary of people, having had almost no human contact and any experiences they have had haven't been so great so when this woman walks into the backyard, they all hide. One pup tries to hide behind a plastic bucket. Another hides in the corner of the yard between the metal fencing and a pile of decrepit lawn furniture. One just flattens itself against the ground because all the good hiding spots are taken. The guy can't get any of the puppies to greet the customer. The customer tries to be polite but after several minutes realizes that none of these dogs would do well with her kids and she leaves.

So now the guy is pissed. Maybe he goes to his backyard and throws a beer bottle at the pups, maybe he tries to kick a couple of them but he doesn't get a good boot in because they've grown accustomed to his outbursts and they stay far away. "Fuck it," he thinks. He doesn't want them anymore and he wants them out of his backyard so he calls animal services to pick them up.

As the van drives away with the five young dogs, the guy thinks, "Finally, someone else's fuckin' problem. Next time I'm going to try it with Great Danes," and then he goes back to surfing for teen porn.

The five young dogs arrive at TAS and are each given a separate kennel. When I first see them from a distance, they look like fine young dogs except they're a bit scrawny. But as I approach them, I see what's happened to them.

Three of them are like wild animals, afraid to look at me, cowering in the back of their kennels, visibly shaking as I reach out to them, looking like they might bite. One pisses itself every time I try to touch it. One hides behind its water bowl which is funny except that it isn't. I push treats into their kennels but they're wary of the food. James tells me they refuse to eat except at night.

They remind me of the baby racoon I found in my backyard earlier this summer, separated from its mother. For several hours, it was stuck on the wrong side of the fence - my side, its siblings on the other - and I threw it some food but it wouldn't eat, too scared. After almost a day I put on some gloves and went to pick it up and carry it over the fence but it cried and tried to squeeze itself into a ball of nothing in the corner between the fence and the patio wall. But that was understandable. Raccoons are supposed to be feral.

The other two siblings are a little better. They don't back away as quickly. They don't avert their eyes right away. Maybe there's some hope with those two.

Or maybe not. When I talk to James at lunch, he doesn't hold out much hope. There are quite a few dogs at the facility right now. If he can't get these guys out to rescues quick, they'll be euthanized except he doesn't say euthanized, he slides his finger across his throat.

Continued here.

Washington Post slideshow on Vick pit bulls

Excellent.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/photo/galleries/vickdogs/

Mid journey

video by Bonnie Hall

RT Spinner (aka Willie Wonka), the dog in the poster from yesterday's post, is now in lab rescue in Toronto and he is obviously having a great time showing off his mad fighting skillz. Look at how he quickly and with little effort puts the bigger dog into a submission hold. The bigger dog, Bak, is a Serbian rescue but despite his tough East European training, is no match for the agility of Spinner's ground technique. Spinner's signature move is his falling to the right fake out (hence his initials RT for Right Turn) which causes his opponents to momentarily drop their guard - just long enough for Spinner to pounce. The falling to the right move actually came about after his head injury but he's learned to use it to its full advantage.

Right Turn Spinner will be taking a short break from the fight circuit to get some equipment removed and then he'll be back in fine form for sure.

Boys will be boys

Visualize the boys. What they are wearing. Their weight. Their height. Hair colour. Are their faces well-rounded, well-fed or gaunt and malnourished? Do they have big hands or bony hands? How dirty are they? What about the time of day? Describe the location. How big is the rock. How are the knots tied. Are they good strong knots or just barely holding on against the struggling? And their homes. Big or small? City or town? A farm maybe. What their parents are like. What their teachers are like. Good students or underachievers? Do they stand out? Are they mundane? Are they typical? How often have they done this before? How often will they do this again? Is it fun? Think about the expressions on their faces and the taste in their mouths. Is it fun?

I could do all this for you, write a few lines of imagined dialogue or something but then I might take it too far or not far enough. So you can do it for yourselves and take it as far as you need.

Think about what the boys are saying to each other as they are hammering.

But, whatever you do, don't think about what the dog is going through. If you think about the dog too much, you might lose it.