A-Z of #Dog Rescue: Zealot — #AtoZChallenge

As defined by the wise folk of Merriam-Webster

Animal rescue, like anything that involves intense emotional involvement—religion, politics, vaccines—has its share of zealots. I am the sole possessor of Truth. Righteousness is mine. (You know the drill.)

Look, I have nothing against deep convictions, or the passion to defend them. But there’s a fine, and murky, line between that and bigotry.

You’d think rescuers, being so compassionate, would extend at least some of that compassion to fellow humans, even to the ones who aren’t quite there yet in terms of illumination, those whose understanding of the stuff that really matters (It’s About The Dog) is somewhat under-developed. 

Alas, no.

You want to make an enemy for life? Piss off a rescuer. 

Granted, we probably won’t get pissed at any of the ‘normal’ stuff, like you standing us up for a date, or posting an unflattering photo of us on Facebook; it’ll be over the fact that You bought a puppy WHERE??? Or because you moved and, instead of bringing your dog along, you rehomed him. Or maybe you happened to mention in passing that you’re looking for a purebred male to breed your pedigreed Afghan hound.

Whatever it is, chances are you won’t understand what you did wrong. But the consequences will be swift. And thus the fierce hand of god smote the heathen heretic in holy righteousness.

I am not free of sin, so this isn’t about throwing stones—or, rather, if any stones need to be thrown, this is me volunteering as target practice. The truth is that it’s this zealot attitude of rescuers that gives all of us, even large-scale organizations like PETA and Greenpeace, a bad name. 

If rescue is about improving the quality of life for animals, those of us involved in making it happen need to rethink our strategy. I don’t mean that we all need to become fake-smiley PR-ey lobbyists, but… Maybe just, you know, tone the bigotry down a notch. 

It is, after all, About The Dog.

(And, one of these days, I’ll start listening to my own advice.)

 ~ * ~ 

This has been an amazing month, and an amazing Challenge. You know, I almost didn't do this A-Z of Dog Rescue series. I spoke to a few (non-blogger) people about the theme, and none seemed thrilled. Up until the Theme Reveal in March, I was still debating... Should I, shouldn't I. In the end, it wasn't conviction that won out but a lack of any other alphabet-friendly ideas—and never have I been happier that the brainstorming failed. I knew the series would appeal to only a select group, but I never imagined the group would be so large, so diverse, so warm, so full of intelligent input and marvelous stories to share and enrich these posts with. It has been so rewarding to have so many repeat visitors; it feels like we've built a little community here, and I'm honored by that. I look forward to staying in touch, both here and at your own blogs—I've discovered so many fabulous ones this month!—throughout the year.

For a wonderful month. For all your encouragement (it's thanks to you that these posts will soon be collected into a book!). For the love you give, have given, and will give to your furry four-legged family members, if you have them. For the interest with which you've followed this series if you don't. For every comment, every share, every suggestion. For... well, everything.

Masha danki is 'thank you very much' in Papiamentu, the language of Curaçao.
And it's never been said as heartfelt as today, to you.

See you soon!

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A-Z of #Dog Rescue: Youth vs Age — #AtoZChallenge

What are the pros and cons of rescuing older vs. younger dogs? Is it really easier to rescue a puppy than a senior? 

Puppies can be easier. They tend to follow Mom’s example, and if Mom is approachable, chances are the puppies will be, too. Even if she isn’t, though, if the puppies are young enough (under 12 weeks), their natural curiosity might still work in your favor. A good rescuer can take advantage of it, and turn the whole rescue into a game. 

In a puppy, also, the natural affinity dogs have for humans might still be unchecked by negative experiences (which produce fear), so although they might be wary at first (they’ve never seen one of us), the domestication gene may be a good rescue ally.

But—you knew there was a but coming, didn’t you?—not all is peaches and cream with those cuddly balls of fur (i.e., they’re not always quite as willing as we’d like to be cuddled). Some of those fear-producing negative experiences seem to be passed on genetically; we fostered a dog once who turned out to be pregnant, probably had just become so a couple of days before we picked her up, and although her puppies were born at home and never knew a bad experience (trust me, we kept three of them and they’ve been as spoiled as any dog ever could be), they’re still fearful. 

If Mom isn’t around, and especially if the puppies are under 8 weeks, their instinct is to hide… Which makes them incredibly hard to find. (Remember the Botched post?) Also, they rarely come singly—there’s usually a litter—so you’re going to have to deal with several of them at once. Pick carefully which one you’ll get first: if that intrepid explorer gets spooked, cries out or fights you as you pick him/her up, chances are the rest of the litter will run and—yep, hide. 

And you also have the mom to contend with. Even the most docile of dogs will become a lioness when her babies are in (what they perceive as) danger. 

Adult dogs, on the other hand, may seem like a tougher job for rescue—but they don’t have to be. If they’ve survived on their own for however long, it means they’re street-smart, which may mean they’ll be warier of humans, but may also mean they have the necessary experience to make judgment calls: is this a good human, or a bad human? 

Don’t misunderstand me; these judgment calls don’t happen overnight, certainly not in a few minutes. What I mean is that these dogs will be willing to give you the chance—they’ll stay at a safe distance, and watch you from there—to show your true colors. But that is one chance, and one chance only. Squander it at your own, and the dog’s, peril.

Because of these street-smarts, adult dogs may also fall easier into a feeding routine than puppies, and, through it, into a relationship with you. Adult dog brains (just like adult human brains) are already wired to look for the pattern, to understand cause and effect, to analyze possible outcomes. If you are constant and consistent, if you follow the Trust Quadre, you have a good chance of establishing yourself in their good graces. 

The truth is that, like with everything else concerning rescuing, the issue of age cannot be taken as hard and fast. The only rule, when it comes to dog rescue, is that every dog is an individual. Every situation is unique. 

As they’re so fond of saying in investment disclaimers, past behavior is no indication of future results. No truer words…

 ~ * ~ 

My apologies on the late posting, guys... I'm about ready to drop, haha. The Z post will go up soon... well, soon-ish. Sometime before midnight :D And, once again, thank you so, so much for all the love you've showered this blog with all month. You've been an amazing crowd, and I'm beyond grateful for your readership. And to celebrate you—and the end of the Challenge—I leave you with this... (No, no Kleenex needed. Unless you're the type that cry when you laugh too hard ;) )

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A-Z of #Dog Rescue: The X-Factor — #AtoZChallenge

So what is it, once all is said and done, that makes the difference between a successful rescue and a failed one? All month we’ve been talking about what to do and how to do it, but—really, does this all add up to a fail-safe recipe for success in dog rescuing?

Short answer: No.

(Wow. Shortest post I’ve written. Ever.)

No, of course it’s not that simple. There are too many variables in dog rescue. Too many unknowns. Too many X factors.

Beginning with the dog, of whose history you know nothing. You may assume and deduce and guess, but… no, not know. Same goes for his/her character. And these two things, their history and their character, are a huge factor. How skittish is s/he? How responsive to the lure of food? Plenty of strays and ferals prefer the safety of distance to the reward of even the tastiest morsel. 

The location also plays a role: is the dog in a trash dump, in an abandoned lot, out in the street close to busy intersections? Any of those will require a different rescue approach. The clothes or shoes you’re wearing, the equipment you may (or may not) have in your car, the time of day, the people you’re with (or without)… 

Regardless of the integrity of your intentions and your own preparation and experience, any number of things over which you have absolutely no control have the potential to affect the result.

Sometimes these variables play right into the plan. Sometimes everything just falls into place. Sometimes what seemed like a disaster ends up being a most unexpected windfall.

And sometimes… well.

Memes.com

It can be something as idiotic as your phone ringing just as the dog is coming closer. Or a curious stranger approaches and scares them off. Or workmen nearby start up their hydraulic drill. 

It can be something as unforeseeable as the dog having negative associations to the food you’re using as bait—or, on the other hand, maybe your scent is similar to someone’s that the dog loved once, and your fellow rescuers will watch on in amazement as this frightened, catch-me-if-you-can dog approaches you with ears down and tail wagging, and begs for a belly rub.

When stuff like this happens, you realize that your role in this whole thing is actually very, very small. Rescue truly is about being the right person at the right place at the right time. And that rightness… well, it just can’t be predicted. Rescuers differ from other animal lovers in that they’re willing to put in the effort—the chase, the weeks of building a feeding routine, the counter-intuitiveness of approaching a snarling dog to slip a leash around his/her neck—to find out. And willing, also, when the rightness simply isn’t there, to try again. And again. Over and over.

The difference between a successful rescue and a failed one is blind, cosmic luck. You can get the odds to lean in your favor if you’re prepared, if you have some experience, if you’re in the right mindset. But, bottom line, what will make you a successful rescuer is perseverance. Stubbornness. When everything fails, you don’t give up.

Because you have the absolute certainty that, sooner or later, that unknowable, unforeseeable, uncontrollable X factor will be in your favor. And you have the patience to wait for it.

 ~ * ~ 

Can you believe we're two posts away from the A-to-Z Challenge finish line? Kind of bittersweet, isn't it? On one hand I'm looking forward to the end of my sleep deprivation... But on the other, quite honestly, I'm going to miss this daily interaction with you all. It's been such an enriching month, at so many levels. So, please, let's stay in touch, yes?

P.S. for those of you who so generously insisted these posts should be turned into a book: I mentioned the idea to my publisher—and he's interested! Sight-unseen as yet—and maybe, once he reads all this, he'll feel differently—but if he does like the posts, there will still be a lot of work ahead to build a book worthy of calling itself such. Sooooo... if you have any suggestions, topics that we didn't touch on in the series, or ones you want more of (or don't want more of), please let me know. Your feedback has been instrumental in the success of this series, and will be even more so for the book.

In advance, a huge hug of gratitude :)

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A-Z of #Dog Rescue: Who Rescues Who? — #AtoZChallenge

BELLA

By Michele Truhlik at Angels Bark

There is something known as the “potato chip syndrome” to those of us in the greyhound communities. The famous Lay’s Potato Chips line, You can’t have just one, applies also to greyhounds: you simply can’t have just one! Many of us end up adopting a second greyhound, and then a third… and, for me, a fourth and a fifth.

Bella was my second. She joined me and Maggie. 

Bella’s story is heartbreaking, from her unfortunate beginnings and then her tragic end.* I first met her back when she was known as “Carol” (because that is the name of the woman who found her wandering around in the fields of her property), when she came into the foster program with the greyhound adoption group. And she was a mess! She had been out in the wild so long that she had developed a horrific case of mange. She literally had no fur! Her whole body was bald. Only her face had some sketchy patches of hair left. No one even knew what color she was going to be when her fur came back in. Yet, when I looked at her face, I saw an incredible beauty.  

Nothing much was known about this naked dog except that she was a former racing greyhound (as evidenced by the NGA** tattoos in her ears). But, from the condition she was in, everyone believed she had been relegated to the world of underground racing after her career was over. 

(Some greyhounds are lucky and get put with adoption groups when their racing days are over. In these parts, others are not so fortunate and they end up in the seedy world of “rabbit runners”—the name for people who take greyhounds for illegal gambling purposes. They call them rabbit runners because these horrible criminals use live rabbits as bait for running. The dogs receive very little food—if any—and very little water, absolutely no veterinary attention, and they’re usually abused).

For some reason, I just couldn’t stop thinking about this dog! I called Beth, the adoption coordinator, and inquired about her status. Yes, she was still there, she had been spayed, was fattening up and her fur was finally filling in. So I let Beth know that if it was okay, I would give that dog a home and she could come live with me and Maggie.  

The adoption was quickly finalized. I wasn’t crazy about the name Carol. I renamed her Bella because that Italian word for beautiful so suited her. Boy, was that ever a long settling-in process. Bella was a very frightened dog. So frightened that she was reluctant to even eat! I had to gently pull her up to her food every day and let her know that it was okay to indulge in that big bowl of kibble and mush in front of her.  It was so obvious that she had suffered abuse at the hands of those who had once held her captive. When I’d reach down to pet her, she’d cower. Every time I’d move, she’d shrink down, with head bowed and tail tucked. I knew instantly that she had probably been hit or kicked…and probably both.

I would lie on the floor next to her, stroking her gorgeous golden fur. I felt her heart beating nearly out of her chest she was so scared, eyes wide with panicked uncertainty, always on the ready to flee. I worked with her every day to let her know that she was safe with us, and nothing bad was ever going to happen to her again. It took a long time — nine months in fact — before that angel girl would even allow me to stroke her face without flinching. She always did continue to keep her head down when approaching people… and she always approached with caution. Then she’d go off to a quiet place in the house, away from the activity. So came her nickname, compliments of my dad: 

Lonesome Dove.

Over the years, Bella blossomed into one of the most trusting and sweet dogs. It was a process in which we both flourished. Bella was actually teaching me to trust as well. You see, I got Bella. I understood her fear and apprehension. Through her, I saw my own fears and insecurities. She was afraid of being hurt by people. So was I. She was afraid of being abandoned. So was I. She was afraid to love. So was I.

Bella taught me many things. She taught me that even though I’ve been hurt in the past, not everyone in the world is out to hurt me. When someone extends kindness toward me, I take one step closer to trust.

Bella grew to love and be loved. She grew to trust, and with that trust came security. Through her, I learned that when I trust and let people in, although a bit hesitant, I gain a sense of connectedness and security. Surprisingly, I feel safe. Bella taught me to have an open heart, knowing that even though the pain of the past never quite goes away, I can get past it to live a full and happy life.

This beautiful fawn greyhound enriched my life beyond measure. Like Bella, I still find myself going to my quiet place sometimes. But, in the silence, when I curl up to go to sleep, I have nothing to worry about. I know I am loved.

Although Bella was considered the rescued one, I have to argue that it was I who was rescued.

*I wish I could say that Bella and I had many years together. Sadly, she died on the table getting her teeth cleaned due to a reaction to the anesthesia. She was only 8. I was robbed of her physical presence, but the lessons she taught me and the love she shared with me live on forever. Until we meet again, my sweet girl…

** The National Greyhound Association (NGA) is the primary registry body for racing purebred dog Greyhound pedigrees in the United States.

~ * ~

Michele, thank you so much for sharing Bella's story—and yours—here today. It's an honor to host you both. Although I'm still in tears that you lost her so soon, I have no doubt at all that the time she spent with you was the happiest of her life. You say she enriched your life beyond measure—but you enriched hers just as much. And now both of you have enriched mine :)

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A-Z of #Dog Rescue: Vets, Unsung Heroes — #AtoZChallenge

So you think rescuers have it bad? Putting their lives on the line with strange, scared dogs capable of anything? Yeah, it’s a rough life. But you know who else does that? Every day? 

Vets.

In fact, vets may well be the most undervalued of animal welfare heroes. They do so much, and get so little recognition. 

Being a vet is kind of like a mash-up of all the negative aspects of being a doctor (for humans), without any of the pluses. Think about it. Veterinary med school is just as hard, takes just as long—but with one crucial difference: you can count on one hand the ones who’ll ever come close to making the big bucks people doctors make. Their patients can’t talk, can’t say where it hurts or what they last ate. At least pediatricians have a parent to fill in the blanks—and a mom or dad can usually be trusted to follow instructions, call if something looks or feels wrong. (You wouldn’t believe how many dog owners don’t.) Also, people doctors restrict themselves to either general medicine (for anything more complicated than the common cold they’ll give you a referral) or to a particular specialty—and only for a single species (humans). But vets are expected to cover all the specialties, from reproductive health to ophthalmology to X-ray technician to pathology to diagnostics to odontology—even surgery! And they’re expected to do all that not just for dogs and cats but for all sorts of species.

Try asking your ophthalmologist about your digestive problems. Try asking him about your dog’s digestive problems.

You small, pathetic piece of feces. I am a doctor. I don't poke around in—in animals. Take it back before I sue you.

No, being a vet isn’t easy. And, as if all of the above weren’t enough to qualify them for most challenging profession ever, they get all sorts of crap over their fees. You’ve no idea how often I hear people—smart people—complain about the vet bills they have to pay. Not long ago, at the vet’s waiting area, I witnessed a woman who refused to pay her bill. She’d brought in a puppy who had been diagnosed with parvovirus, too advanced to do anything but give him a painless way out. But his owner, this woman, didn’t want to pay for the euthanasia. “Why do I have to pay? He’s going to die anyway, right?” 

She preferred, rather than pay a measly 50 bucks, to take the puppy home and let him die on his own, in pain.

(The vets waived the fee—which is to say, they paid for it themselves—and put the puppy down anyway. The woman left happy.)

This is why, back when I was around 15, I decided against becoming a vet. This situation, with me as the medical professional, would’ve ended in a lawsuit. Or me in jail. And this is, too, why vets are my heroes. The idiocy they put up with, the costs they absorb, the strength of character and the patience they exhibit to educate the more-often-than-not clueless, and only sometimes well-intentioned people that walk through their doors… 

And then there’s the actual patients. A vet’s physical integrity is on the line with every single animal they see, Chihuahua dog or Arabic stallion. We rescuers talk about building trust and taking our time, we talk about kits and traps and tranquilizers, and then we celebrate when, after three weeks, we finally get a dog into a car. The vet? S/he won’t get time to make friends, or to earn the dog’s trust. S/he’s got a job to do—and that job means putting fingers and even noses closer to those unfriendly and very strong canine jaws than any rescuer. Do they balk? Do they say, Ah, well, let's try again tomorrow? 

No. They GET THE JOB DONE.

Comics got it wrong, y'all. Clark Kent wasn't a journalist. He was a vet.

Oh, and then there’s the rescuers themselves. “But this is a street dog. You should be doing it for free.”

Look. Vets volunteer enough of their lives to animal welfare already. They’ve committed their entire careers to low wages and the hardest, broadest, most challenging of medical professions because they care. No one becomes a vet for the money, or for glory, or even for academic recognition. No one’s going to win a Nobel for veterinary medicine.* No one’s going to name a hospital after you. No, if you chose to become a vet, it's because your desire to help animals trumped everything else. 

Compared to vets, then, us rescuers are nothing but dilettantes.

Seriously. Hug your vet today. Bring them some coffee next time you visit. Some homemade cookies. And, please, don’t complain about your vet bill. If you have reason to believe you’re being overcharged—I won’t deny it happens; there’s unscrupulous people everywhere—then change vets (because, if their ethics are faulty that way, then your dog isn’t in safe hands anyway). But do your research. And check why a certain vet might be more expensive than another. If it’s talent, or commitment, I suggest you pay up. 

*  This guy actually did win a Nobel. Even if the research that earned him the prize had to do more with human well-being rather than with animals', it gives me hope that maybe the world is beginning to realize we owe veterinarians huge, and long-overdue, recognition.

Coming soon (in May, after we've all slept a week): HOW TO CHOOSE A VET

Hint: not because they treat you nice.

Thanks for the visit, everyone! This has been the most rewarding A-to-Z I've done (it's my 5th)—and it's all thanks to you. Your comments, the stories you've shared, the insights you've provided... It's been one heck of a special April. Masha danki! (That's thank you in Papiamentu, the language of Curaçao.) Tomorrow there'll be a special treat waiting here for you: Michele Truhlik, of Angels Bark, will be here to tell the rescue story of one of her own dogs; it's guaranteed to stay with you for the rest of your life. (Bring Kleenex.)

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A-Z of #Dog Rescue: Universality (The Price of Compassion) — #AtoZChallenge

Dog rescuing comes with lots of consequences. A houseful of dogs, for instance. An ever-growing dent in the balance of your bank account. A fast-track education in veterinary medicine—and the basics of Zen philosophy. Some of these consequences you might expect; many you probably don't. Like how you'll start judging others by their attitude toward dogs. Or how your priorities will shift... All of a sudden those when I win the lottery dreams become less about yachts and round-the-world trips and more about buying a piece of land and turning it into a dog sanctuary.

Most of all, though, you’ll begin to notice a broadening of your perception. A certain universality. 

Rescue, at its core, isn’t about a love of dogs. That might well be what brought you to it, but, once you’re in it, you’ll realize there’s a weird alchemy at work in your soul. Rescue, you see, is about compassion. And compassion is universal. 

Prince said it best. (Bon voyage, Your Majesty.)

Compassion doesn’t restrict itself to a certain breed or a certain size or even a certain species. Compassion for one is compassion for all. It will happen before you know it; maybe your vet will raise an eyebrow the first time you show up with a pigeon or lizard or hamster, but by the time you start coming in (or calling them out to the middle of nowhere) with a horse, a goat, a deer, a… well, whatever form of life needs your help (and theirs), they’ll know to expect you with the broad-spectrum vet kit. 

The thing is, not every vet can deal with any animal, or any emergency. And your local dog shelter will probably balk at housing a raccoon with a broken leg. So here’s my advice to you, dear Rescue Padawan. Do some research on the wildlife in your area. Are there any species that, like raccoons or possums, might be considered pests? Those are the most likely to cross your path in need of rescue. There might even be organizations devoted to their protection and welfare; many offer brief trainings or information sessions, even online.

Your focus might well remain on dogs (or cats, or whatever started you rescuing), but consider this your fair warning: even if it does, it won’t be only there. Prepare yourself.

P.S. — The rescue yesterday went... well, okay. The plan was to get two females to bring them in for sterilization, but we only managed to get one. Like I said before, though, one really does need to celebrate every little thing, so I'm looking at this as a 50% success rate :D I'll write more about it, and share more photos, later. For the time being, here's the little one we did catch...

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A-Z of #Dog Rescue: The Trust Quadre — #AtoZChallenge

Throughout this series, we’ve been throwing around the word trust like a pinball. Getting the dog to trust you is, after all, the cornerstone of rescue. So maybe it’s time to talk about what trust means to a dog—and how you go about getting into their good, trusting, graces.

Dogs are, by nature (and by human domestication) not leaders but followers. They don’t want the Alpha role—and they’ll take it on only when they have no choice. Which is often the case on the street: through abandonment or abuse, a street dog’s covenant with humanity has been broken, and so they’ve had to rely on themselves to survive. But, at the core of every dog, is a nugget of instinct and desire to find safety—in the form of a pack, and a strong leader. 

That means you.

Humans, being the clueless idiots we are, tend to equate leadership with loudness, strong personality, even violence. Dogs, being so much more intelligent than us, see this for the bullying it is—and the weakness it exhibits. For a dog to sense you as a leader, you’ll need to show four things:

Balance

You can’t be nervous. You can’t be excited. You can’t be angry, or sad, or frustrated. Okay, let me rephrase: you can be any of these things, but you can’t let them control you. If you’re not in control of your emotions, how could you ever be in control of the pack? Get in touch with your Zen. Breathe.

Assertiveness

Assertiveness isn’t dominance. It’s not a “my way or the highway” thing; your way is the highway—to safety, to a happy ending for the dog. Believe it, and the dog will believe it, too. 

Respect

Don’t just look at the dog; see him/her. Observe their attitude, their body language. Seek to understand them, and—more importantly—their needs. Establish a line of communication, but not of the here boy kind; your body speaks volumes, much louder, and more effective than any words. Avoid looking them straight in the eye; dogs read eye contact as aggression. Don’t move so fast; give them time to get used to you, to read you, to understand what you want. Bring your hands in from below, never from above. Always keep whatever you’re offering—food, your hand, a leash—under their nose. (Remember the Botched post?)

Use your body language to make it clear you understand what they’re saying to you (I’m afraid, I don’t know what you want), that you respect that, and that you have something important of your own to say (I’m here to help, You don’t have to be alone anymore).

Honesty

Dogs can read you better than a gypsy palm reader at a state fair. (I mentioned that in the Food post—oh, by the way, remember that awesome video of the two-dog rescue on that post? it’s gone now, sadly…) Dogs sense ulterior motives, so honesty really is your best policy. Keep your bag of tricks, such as traps, for the very last of recourses—and prepare yourself: you’ll have a hell of a time gaining that dog’s trust afterwards.

Balance, assertiveness, respect, and honesty. The Trust Quadre.

Thank you so much for the visit! Tomorrow, Sunday, some of us are getting together to try to bring in a group of dogs wandering around Curaçao's World Trade Center. Wish us luck, please... I don't know these dogs, and I'm hoping they're not too skittish, but... well. Luck always comes in handy :)

Have a wonderful day off, A2Z-ers! See you Monday—for the last week of the Challenge! (Phew. Like Jeffrey Scott said at the beginning of this week, when it's over I think I'll sleep for a whole week :D )

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A-Z of #Dog Rescue: Sterilization — #AtoZChallenge

We dog people often say sterilization when we mean spaying and/or neutering. But, actually, sterilization encompasses an entire gamut of procedures—and a pretty broad gamut it is, from surgical to non-surgical, and from permanent to temporary.

A quick overview:

 NON-SURGICAL STERILIZATION (or CONTRACEPTION) 

Chemical castration

Calcium chloride injected directly into the testes kills the tissue and causes sterility. If done properly, may be permanent—but it's impossible to know for sure. 

Hormones

Females receive a hormonal implant that regulates fertility. Risks are serious, though, and require careful monitoring. Few vets will recommend this.

Immunocontraception

Females are injected with a vaccine that produces antibodies, which attach to her eggs (ovum, if you want to get all technical) and prevent sperm from fertilizing them. Effects are only temporary.

Image Source

 SURGICAL STERILIZATION 

Fallopian tube ligation / Vasectomy

Very rare; only a few vets will (can?) perform it. Just like in humans, this procedure involves tying off the conduits of eggs (fine, ovum then) and sperm to avoid reproduction—but, because no organs are removed, it is, at least in theory, reversible. (And, in more than just theory, also pretty unreliable. Just like in humans.) 

Spay / Neuter

The big guns. (The ones that get the job done.) In females, the removal of the ovaries (and sometimes the uterus); in males, the removal of the testes. Surgery is simple and fast, pain is minimal, speedy recovery. And sterilization is permanent. (What's not to like?)

Oh, I know. It's such a harsh word, isn’t it? Sterilization. Sterile. Makes one think of moonscapes, cold and barren. Of merciless sun on endless dunes. Desolation. Despair.

And yet, when it comes to dogs (and many animals), permanent sterilization is how we spell hope.

An estimated three-quarters of the world’s dogs are unwanted. Homeless, surrendered to shelters, abandoned, living in the streets. An overwhelming majority won’t get a happy ending; there simply aren’t enough homes. 

And most of these dogs are fertile. They’re reproducing. Non-surgical options for population control aren't practical; they're either too expensive or not reliable enough. Which leaves us with—yes, spaying and neutering. 

But why should you, a responsible owner, have to spay or neuter your dog? (I mean, puppies!) Plus, you would never abandon your dog. Your dog will never know a homeless life.  

Think about this for a second. Can you really—absolutely, without any question at all—guarantee that your dog will never end up in the street? What if s/he gets lost? What if s/he’s stolen? Oh, and don’t forget Mother Nature. Hurricanes, earthquakes, fires—they shatter more than just human lives. Katrina left over 250,000 animals homeless. That’s a quarter of a million. And I bet none of their owners were prepared for that. (If they had been, they would’ve chipped them. And they would have spayed or neutered them.)

And then there are the marvelous side benefits:

• A non-spayed female has seven times the risk of getting breast cancer than a spayed one. And, in spayed females, the risk of ovarian cancer is zero.
• A neutered male’s risk of testicular cancer is also zero, and his chances of developing prostatic cancer go significantly down.
• Intact (non-neutered) males often escape to follow a female in heat. Neutering your male dog keeps him safe from getting lost, fighting, getting hit by a car…
• Intact males will mark their territory (read piss all over your house) much more than neutered ones.
• In a multi-dog household, hormones are the original apple of discord. If all your dogs are spayed and/or neutered, conflicts defuse much faster.

RESOURCES:

Spaying or Neutering — The Risks & Benefits (Whole Dog Journal)

Non-Surgical Methods of Contraception in Dogs and Cats

Thanks for the visit! 

P.S. — Happy Earth Day! Here's an excellent post on Sustainability and Soil, by superstar bio-wizard Ann Bennett of Science Ladybug, to start the day right. As for me, I'm taking three of the dogs for a celebratory walk in the Kabouterbos (literally, dwarf forest), a wooded area close to the house. (So I might be late with replies and visiting back... To make it up to you, I'll share the photos on tomorrow's post.) And you? Any special plans? 

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A-Z of #Dog Rescue: Right (or Wrong?) — #AtoZChallenge

In rescue, there’s no right or wrong—as long as it’s About The Dog. Every situation is different, every dog is different. What worked yesterday won’t work tomorrow; what’s never worked before just might work today. And every rescuer is different; what works for you might end in a bloody arm for me. I’m not trying to scare you off; my point is that rescue requires keeping an open mind. And lots of outside-the-box thinking.

So how do you know what’s right—or wrong? With thousands of rescue videos out there—zillions of websites on dog behavior—hundreds of books on animal health—how do you tell the wheat from the chaff? You’ll find different, even opposing, views from people with impeccable credentials. 

Do your own research. 

Nothing beats finding out stuff for yourself. Check every fact. Even when you agree with someone’s point of view, make a point of reading up on the opposite side. This isn’t about being right (or wrong). It’s About The Dog.

Consensus breeds confidence. 

Remember that pack we talked about, the group of people you’re supposed to collect to help in your rescuing endeavors? Consult them. Get their ideas, mine their experience, pick their brains. If you can get agreement from those trustworthy few, you know you’ve got a winner plan.

Go with your gut. 

There’s no overestimating the power of your own instinct. What feels right to you? What are your other, not-so-obvious senses telling you? These will be the things that are hardest to communicate to a non-observer—but they’ll often be the ones that make the biggest difference.

Keeping it short today, folks. Pffff… just another week of A2Z-ing to go. We can do it. Yes, we can!

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