Tuesday, 11 August 2009
We rescue and re-home dogs, but I think you already know that. Guess what type (not breed) of dog we get the most. Here's a hint: it's in the title. Well done, the answer is Big Dogs. And rottweilers (see generic Rotty photo above), dobermanns, and Staffordshire Bull Terriers -what's that? You say staffies aren't big dogs. Have you tried telling that to a staffy?
People -I'm being polite, I mean idiots- get these types of dogs because they like their image and then find that the image is justified and, because they don't understand how to train a dog, can't control it and it ends up at a rescue like Animal Krackers.
Today, with Andrea, I went to pick up Zara, a very friendly spayed 14-month old rottweiler on her second owner and now looking for a third. She is a lovely friendly animal who loves to wrap her mouth around your hand for a friendly bone-crunching squeeze, in a friendly manner. She will make a lovely pet as long as she gets an owner who knows what they are doing. Sadly, this type of person is few and far between. When we picked her up she was wearing a short leather muzzle which meant she could only assault us with her tongue and waggly tail. And off to Ferryfarm kennels.
First, however, I had to pick up a cat to take to Vets4Pets. It was the old skinny stray I'd received a week ago from round the corner to the vet's. (See last Wednesday's entry for photo.) Sadly the cat, whom we'd just named Bluebell, had deteriorated very quickly -in the space of little over 24 hours. Dehydrated, mucus covering its eyes, high temperature suggesting cat flu, it was in a desperate state. Already severely underweight, she had no resources left to fight, and so we agreed to do the kindest and hardest thing we ever have to do and put an end to her suffering.
90 minutes later as I'm writing this, I got a call to say that I'd knocked somebody's car with our van on the way out of the car park and hadn't noticed -I thought I'd barely touched it.
Some days you just can't damn well win.
It actually did get better.
Damage to the car was minimal and the owner (whom I'd met minutes earlier at V4P) graciously, appreciating what we do as a charity, refused all payment.
In the evening, we had friends to tea and I showed them Grace the cat with the broken leg. June, an old friend of Susan's and a cat-person, was very taken with her and came back later with her student daughter and when she is able to be re-homed they'll take her. Which means I know she's going to a good home.