Wednesday, July 13, 2016
A new dog group in
Puerto Rico rises in the shade
of stately trees in el parque Luis Munoz Marin, which by the way is a wonderful
park. A circle of about twenty
passionate animal lovers discussed the problems of dogs suffering in the
streets and what they do to help.
The organizers have various rescue affiliations, but the majority are members of OICA, which is a group of Animal Cruelty Investigators. To a one, I thought they were lovely ladies. Gracias!!
Being one of the foreigners interested in solving the problem of dogs on the island, may I congratulate you on your high level of commitment; the Puerto Rican people mobilize against a huge problem.
Please, forgive my lack of Spanish; my senior tongue gets tied. I’ve been documenting the Puerto Rican island dogs since 2006. This is now my home; I am involved.
The speakers fervently spoke of working on a solution. I love that can do spirit. If you’re going to do it, you’ll need to do it right with a mission statement, organizational plan and a whole bunch more, so you need a lawyer ombudsman. At the meeting I didn’t get if you have a lawyer in the group or not; sorry.
I wish you all the greatest luck, especially with getting a secretary to transcribe minutes; good minutes are so valuable.
Good hearts rising on the island; many hands share the burden.
Thursday, June 2, 2016
Headed home on a quiet country road, enjoying the verdant beauty of the island, and running directly towards my car was a little yellow puppy, all alone. The pup ran as fast as a baby can; I slammed the brakes, opened the door, and the next thing I knew without getting out of my car, I suddenly had a puppy in my lap.
I don’t want another dog, but the baby fell asleep on my leg before I turned on to my road. My dogs don’t want any more dogs here. Who wants this small thing? I stroked its head; it moaned and grunted.
Robert Redford, Blondie, and Lucky greeted me at the bottom of my driveway and raced the car up. Whining they waited for me to open the door. The pup perched on my forearm; I allowed them a sniff before bringing the critter inside where we wondered what’s next.
Sunday, May 29, 2016
A couple of people are feeding these cuties on PR 453. The look better this week than they did last.
I believe in trap, neuter, and return, but these are babies. Perhaps a local rescuer will get them.
According to Bill 2950 the tourism industry is losing fifteen million a year because of the dog problem. The tourism industry must support vigorously endeavor to reduce the dog population by curtailing reproduction. To entertain a bill about animals in the middle of a financial crisis indicates that the time has come for change; animals will no longer be collected and killed.
This is so wonderful. Bravo to those who envisioned this bill!
How much money will be budgeted to support the enactment of the bill?
How much would it cost to sterilize all the dogs on the island?
According to the bill, if I read it correctly, there are 300,000 dogs on the island.
If sterilization or spay/neuter, if you prefer, will cost according to the bill $35- $50, let’s take the high end $50.
300,000 X $50 = $15,000,000
One year’s loss for tourism would neuter all; isn’t that interesting?!
Saturday, May 28, 2016
Picture life on a Caribbean island two hundred years ago with no cars, no Iguanas, but dogs walked with the farmers to market or to the fields in search of yame (yams).
Dogs and cats roamed the woods around the house at night hunting rats or mice. People slept soundly at night certain the dogs would sound the alarm if anything stirred. They fed leftovers to the dogs without a sense of ownership. The dog that went to the market with the farmer might follow his neighbor to the river to fish.
The community dog concept is a large part of everyone’s heritage, if you go back far enough.
North America is different because massive European migration
interrupted the normal flow of life. Each settler brought a dog, which they
valued for protection from predators.
In small human hamlets dogs wandered through the community, almost as freely as man. The humble life of the hamlet dog is part of our history.
Within the last two hundred years rabies finished the
tolerance for free ranging dogs. Americans can’t
tolerate wolves in US Yellowstone; dogs roaming in forest preserves, waiting to prey
on children strikes fear. It’s a
Other parts of the world continue with the community dog concept or local variations.
Is the question how to bring the animal population into compliance?
Is there a way to respect cultural heritage and do what’s best for health and safety without killing dogs?
Tuesday, May 24, 2016
Hey guys, read this!
It’s part of proposed law 2950. If I read it correctly, it opens the door for volunteer veterinarians, at least from the states.
The terms sound similar to current laws, but I’m sure somebody will explain how it will work.
3 (c) By this law, and the term thereof provides that
4 US licensed veterinarians can perform in Puerto
5 Rico vaccination clinics and sterilization high volume at low cost
6 and / or free, for which all they need is to work the clinic
7 conjunction with a veterinarian at a shelter or welfare organization
8 animal, and that the director (a) of this organization sends a communication
9 sworn with acknowledgment on such management to the Board of Examiners
10 Veterinarians of Puerto Rico, with at least sixty (60) days
11 advance. This communication must include all information
12 corresponding to the clinic and vet the credentials
experienced in clinical vaccination and sterilization
14 high volume, including your name, address, telephone number, state (s)
15 where he practices veterinary medicine and medical license number.
16 Furthermore, it should be anejar copy of (the) document (s) attesting
17 effectively is licensed veterinarian force. Board
18 Examiners may refuse the use of any medical
veterinary previous actions and have proven
20 bad medical practice veterinary medicine. to the Board of Examiners is authorized
21 veterinarians to amend its rules so that the same
22 resulting in accordance with the provisions of this section.
Rescuers, there are two black puppies, maybe 7-8 weeks old in the bushes on the side of PR 453 about 13.5 km.
I and somebody else are feeding and watering.
Thursday, May 19, 2016
The dog rescuers in
Puerto Rico amaze me with their hard work. In the areas I pass
on PR 119 and PR 453, little groupings of dogs that I recognized, are absent. I
see rescue notices on Facebook in places I now recognize. The cooperation here
Animal Advocates of Puerto Rico I salute you; this is some hard f’ing work. To get dogs off the street and on a plane to
is a major accomplishment. America
Pricey pure breeds move over; here come the Sato Ricans. They’re cute, hip, and street smart.
Good work everybody. And THANKS
Sunday, May 15, 2016
Retire to the tropics, say so long winter weather; that’s how I planned it. Live on a salad bowl island and travel from there; that was the plan. And if it weren’t for the dog situation, I’d enjoy my retirement in
Puerto Rico so much more.
For the first time in my adult life I planned to be dog less. I love dogs, but my life’s plan was to travel. The fates in the form of the Great Recession screwed with that pretty hard, but if I budget I can have a few fine travel experiences. It’s amazing what I’m willing to live without in order to travel.
From the very beginning retirement planning included waiting for a time when our dogs passed from old age. In the mean time we visited our house in
Rico getting accustomed
to life on the island.
Dogs began to show up at our door. Cute dogs of differing breeds and sizes wanted a little food, some water. There is no place to take the dog where it will be cared for and not killed, so what does a dog lover do?
Damn, right you feed! You water, you treat, medicate and sterilize; it’s the right thing to do. Dogs came and went before I started counting how much money I’d invested in the flow of animals.
Whoa, I’m on a fixed income, not the retirement I’d planned; there is no room in my budget for a steady stream of dogs. I’ve paid for enough sterilizations and vaccinations that I’m starting to get pissed. Oddly, it’s more because I get the dogs neutered, healthy, and trained; and then, they disappear. All these missing dogs and no bodies; it doesn’t add up.
So let’s get this straight, according to the law 154 if I feed it, it’s mine. But assholes can drop a dog out of a car window at the bottom of my driveway for me to provide the animal’s rights.
The sheer numbers of dogs that come through here make it impossible for me to ever hope to sterilize, vaccinate, or more than feed.
I can return to the states so I’m not forced to see the dogs in need. But how does that help the dogs?
Tuesday, April 26, 2016
Chi-Ping, twelve pound Boriqua dog with attitude, author of many canine tales on my blog is gone.
About six years ago the little terrier girl refused to leave the spot where the big SUV dumped her off. She fought the big street dog determined to chase her away, took the bites and held her ground.
She wasn’t a pushover for just any human wanting to be her friend. Trust with her needed to be earned. Chi made an exception for Kirt, my husband; she melted into his lap the first time they meet.
With head and tail held high Chiwi strut through airports aware of those admiring her, my shining star. She slept in the bend of my knees or the small of my back, giving me comfort on many lonely nights.
I don’t in fact know that’s she’s dead, so there is no real closure. Two weeks ago she disappeared; that’s all I know. I miss her and thank God for her little light in my life.
Tuesday, March 29, 2016
If it weren’t for the dogs, I could just close the house and go for as long as I like, but there are five depending on me. I planned to be dog less so I could travel, but these dogs bark at strangers in the night. Many days I talk and they listen; these days they’re the only ones who do. We’re friends, so I provide for them when I travel.
About ten years ago, when Kirt and I bought the house in PuertoRico, we fed dogs that came and went; only Stormie, the border collie stayed. A couple of years later we returned to be greeted by Blondie, who was then a young adult of at least a year, probably a year and a half.
Every trip to
Puerto Rico for a few years we were welcomed home by Blondie
and Stormie, and then someone in a big SUV dumped Chi in front of the neighbor’s
house. Every year other dogs migrated past our door. Kirt never didn’t have a
problem with feeding the strays, but had philosophical discussions about what
was our problem and what is the island’s problem; and he was as kind hearted a
man as I’ve ever meet.
We left the world of pure bred champion dogs behind in
, said farewell to cold weather and life with dogs
as the epicenter, but now, we had Illinois two Puerto Rican street dogs going with us to . Blondie and Chi loved the Big Easy; raccoons
under a house were way better than squeaky toys, but for a new invention, the
leash, they’d have a raccoon for doggie games. New Orleans
In the last months of Kirt’s life Lucky and Robert Redford appeared in the same week. Kirt and I agreed we needed a couple of boys to balance the girl-boy ratio. Along came Lola with marks of physical abuse still visible, her feet swollen giving her a sadly endearing gait. Before he died, we had a family of five fur kids.
Here I am almost three years later with my family of five.
Monday, March 21, 2016
The red and white puppy found his way to my door all the way from Counselor’s Ridge, which is about a mile or so away. He stood at the bottom of my driveway with a couple of people who were gathering coconuts. I came out because my dogs were barking at the people.
The boney boy stood in the road with ears and tail down, so as to not attract attention. He watched the Sato Hill Crewe come down the driveway in full protection mode, as the man stood on the roof of my neighbor’s garage and his wife gathered the coconuts dropping in my driveway. The dogs’ focused on the people; until the puppy recognized me. His eyes widened, head came up, ears went forward, and his tail burst into a full speed wag.
Lucky, Robert Redford, Blondie, and Chi-Ping turned as one from the people they had focused on, to the little guy doing the happy dance. They went into stalk position, which scared me, since they were already halfway down the drive.
The woman in my driveway saw the dogs’ predatory posture, freaked out yelling, “Hay dios mio,” and ran around her car, while her husband tried waving the long rod he used on the coconuts at the dogs.
“NO,” I boomed at the man. “TRANQUILA, tranquila,” I soothed the woman.
“No,” I said again in my serious dog voice; the dogs actually looked at me, big sigh of relief. “GOOD GUYS!! COMEON, LET’S GO TO THE HOUSE!!”
Lucky and Robert Redford flew up the hill; what good babies! Blondie and Chi weren’t convinced to leave the people or the little competitor with the wagging tail, but minus the boys’ support the girls regrouped halfway up the driveway.
Boys in the house, Blondie and Chi, my old friends, came along. I haven’t had them in the house much lately, so the hounds were happy, allowing me to find the puppy, who had headed up the hill in fright.
This is a pit bull puppy; he only retreated to the other side of my neighbor’s garage, where he greeted me with joy. About a week ago, the only time we met, I fed him on the way to feed the litter in the lane. A good ten dogs I’ve seen for quite some time have disappeared from that lane, which gives me more surprise to see him.
Down the lane where the big cows graze my little Cowboy came.
Tuesday, March 15, 2016
God bless the
for sponsoring the first ever, if I heard right, really big dog
training event in municipality of Manatee Puerto
Rico. I had a blast.
Before the speeches began, as people assembled I meandered through the crowd saying hello to everybody. Siberian Huskies, a Great Dane, a Basenji, a Bulldog with a ton of personality were good to meet along with friendly people, who laughed goodheartedly at my Spanish. (It’s appropriate.) It seemed to me that there were quite a few young puppies. It’s not a good idea to teach adults and puppies in the same class for many reasons, so I suggested the division to Alma, who agreed. When I made that suggestion, I had counted twelve for the puppy class I would teach. No sweat, I thought even though I haven’t taught a class in five years.
A crowd of more than sixty dogs and their people listened to opening speeches and introductions. We stood on the steps of a coliseum; the rules of the event were clearly stated by the ranking police officer. The organizing dog trainer, Alma Febus, announced where the puppies should gather. The training planned for outside had to suddenly, be moved inside do to rain that began no sooner than she announced the separation of classes, so Carlos Cardona, the officer in charge told us where the puppies would be meeting, a long narrow area where people wait to get inside the coliseum, but we were under a roof.
Have you ever looked at a situation and felt confident? Twelve puppies, a piece of chocolate! I entered the vestibule where the puppies awaited. Wall to wall people and pups greeted me. Holy! Holy!! “Just puppies, here,” I yelled in Spanish, “Solomente peritos, por favor!”
Nobody moved; this massive tangle just looked. Oh, my, what the!! I quickly grabbed a couple of cones, “People with puppies line up between the cones. People without dogs, please stand along the opposite wall.”
As everybody shuffled into place, I counted puppy dogs. I stopped counting at forty puppies. The place was crowded so I took a couple of cones further down and divided the class.
Yes, forty in a class is overwhelming; who knew the pent up demand for dog training was so great?
Teniente Carlos Cardona and his staff should be congratulated for offering to the citizens of Manatee a program that they so obviously want.
Thanks to the efforts of my volunteer assistants: Joselito Moye, Officer Tanya Roman, Genesis Rodriguez, and a beautiful lady whose name I never got, but impressed me with her capability and calm demeanor. These people rock!!
Joselito is the bomb; he gave the class to a darn big group. Occasionally I’d run over to observe, and I have to tell you; the man did a fine job! He saved the day because I could not have done justice to forty in one group.
One of my goals in life is to improve our relationship with dogs. When I’m doing that, I’m having fun. After all these years, I’m still a dog lover.
Thursday, March 10, 2016
The puppies are gone, the pit bull mommy is gone, the white boxer boy is gone, so are the Counselor’s Ridge dogs except for the new arrival red bitch.
Surprise! Today the five month old puppy from up the lane showed up at my house. I couldn’t NOT feed him; I brought the other dogs in the house, while he gobbled down a big bowl of food. By the time I let the dogs out one at a time, they understood he was staying.
Blondie, Lucky, and Robert Redford ignored him. Chi-Ping tried to terrorize him, which is standard small terrier behavior. He’s this tough little Cowboy, so that’s what I’m calling him. He’s a happy boy.
|See those horrible feet!|
I need my head examined, but what am I supposed to do, when a puppy shows up at my door?
Tuesday, March 8, 2016
Monday morning fed the dogs, made a nice breakfast for myself, and then took off in a gentle rain to feed the puppies on the way to the gym.
No puppies, how odd, I called and no reply. Could someone have rescued the adorable rascals? I hoped with the dog food and scrambled eggs still on the front seat. Plenty of other dogs would enjoy this meal, so I watch for the Counselor Ridge Crewe, but only see a red spaniel I haven’t noticed before. She’s very scared, but runs up to the bowl as soon as I leave.
At the gym I wonder if the other person feeding the pups managed to collect them. A safe home, regular meals, what could be better? I didn’t spend much time with the puppies; maybe the other person sat on the ground with them stroking their ears. Perhaps they just moved to a dry location.
On the way home that afternoon I drove down the lane. The puppies weren’t there, but someone had left a pan of kibble; apparently, the other person feeding the pups hadn’t gotten them. At I saw none of the dogs that usually lounge in the road; how odd, but not unheard of. I went home to get ready for a training session I was giving that evening for volunteers assisting in a beginner dog training class to be held in Manatee.
Sadly I didn’t have time to drive the lane on the way out, but about , when very few are out in the country, I drove slowly up the lane, stopping in all the familiar haunts. Not a single dog could I find; I went home pondering that.
Monday, March 7, 2016
On a country road so narrow two cars must slow almost to a stop to pass the three puppies hide among the bushes where they were dumped days ago.
Sunday morning my dogs, the Sato Hill Crewe, and I have scrambled eggs, mine with toast, theirs’ with kibble. Shortly after I head up the road to feed the pups I named Curly,
Moselle, and Larita.
It’s Sunday morning on back country roads, so I’m not dressed to meet people. I’m just feeding the puppies and going home, so I don’t bother to put a bra on; these pups are less than a mile from my home. Can you sense the mistake?
Where the country lane intersects with my road, I see a wild eyed spaniel in the field with dairy cattle. I stop the car and call the spaniel and she comes running to me. I pour a bit of food on the ground, but just before she arrives a jeep whips into the intersection between us. She bolts in panic. She’s gone, no point fooling here any longer, so I head up the lane.
About a hundred feet into the lane I see a very pregnant black pit bull bitch; she’s been here a while, the poor thing. Someone feeds her in a cast iron pot, but there’s no food, so I oblige the sweet girl, while a car with three men stop to watch. They say nothing; I’m uncomfortable, so I hop in my car and head around the bend where two men are loading a pickup that’s partially blocking the lane.
A red pit bull pup about five months old is with the men. As one of the men waves me past the truck, I ask him if the puppy is his; he says, “No.” This dog can use a meal and some water, so against my better judgment, I got out of the car to feed the starving, wormy looking youngster. The men were polite; don’t get me wrong, but hate it when a man stares at your tits when he’s talking to you. This fella had so much to say and didn’t bother to disguise where he was looking, which made me feel self conscious. I became annoyed enough that finally I just thought the hell with it, fed the pup and wondered if the three babes would still be in the woods.
The shy little buggers came within inches of me, so that’s progress.
Someone fed them in an aluminum pan; they have people who care. It makes me feel good to know that, even on a lonely country road, helpless critters have a community of advocates doing what they can for them. That helps to offset the heartlessness others suffer from, but it’s no answer; is it?
Sunday, March 6, 2016
Saturday is my day to do nothing or clean house, whatever comes first. My dogs and I enjoyed chicken livers for lunch. We had our feet up on the porch doing nothing, when I thought about the puppies.
With all the wonderful animal advocates on the island these babies may have been rescued already; I wondered, but mixed a tray of kibble with a coating of liver, yum, just in case.
They ran around my car barking, clearly excited to see the food I bring, and then scurried into the hole in the fence for safety.
I’m guessing that the only time they’ve been handled is when the culprit snatched them from their mom for a car ride to the country.
If anyone will catch them again, they need some pleasant time with a human, so I toss liver soaked kibble at their feet. They still act as if they don’t know what kibble is and they hesitate to eat, but soon they gobble what I toss a safe distance. Tossing and talking. Tossing and talking; gradually they calm in my presence, but are far from trusting to the point where I realized they are in a fear period of development. Since I know a thing or two about puppy development, I spent more time tossing and talking before putting the food trays down.
|Curly leaning into the dish.|
Frightened little puppies leaned into the food dish as if something would grab them. I left so they could finish their meal in peace.
In the rear view mirror I saw a couple of the Counselor Ridge Crewe crouching towards the food. These are dogs so betrayed by man that I can’t get near.
Saturday, March 5, 2016
New born always feel so magical to me; they are hope for the future, fresh life with no past only what’s ahead. Somehow deep in my soul I wish them well; I want them to thrive.
So when I see puppies abandoned on the side of the road, I can’t help but feel how bankrupt a society is that would toss them out without a care. In truth this is a bankrupt little island.
If it weren’t for the wonderful animal advocates feeding and rescuing, I would believe this place to be morally bankrupt as well, but in the three days I’ve been feeding the three little rascals left in the bend of a country road I noticed evidence that someone else is feeding them.
Three scared babies have hope to live thanks to someone who cares. When its so easy to feel overwhelmed by badness, it gives hope to see evidence that loving spirits care if the least among us have a chance to live because life is magic.
Wednesday, March 2, 2016
Thirty years of training dogs and teaching people to have a better relationship with their dogs came and went; I retired. For the last five years I’ve done no training, no teaching. I can’t tell you that I’ve missed it; I simply haven’t thought about it.
Living with four dogs who come and go when they want has been interesting, but I haven’t trained them. I don’t have fun with it the way I once did. Once in a blue moon I’ll do a few sits and downs with Lucky and Robert Redford; the old trainer in me still has a pulse albeit a weak one.
The dog situation in
Puerto Rico is deplorable despite the efforts of many
wonderful animal advocates. Yesterday I fed the counselor crewe and gave them a
big bowl of water; these dogs live in the woods on the ridge overlooking the
lake. The members of this little crewe change rather frequently; at the moment
a small red spaniel seems to lead the fearful hounds living near an enclave of
houses where a couple of lawyers live on counselor ridge. I didn’t feel well,
so I tossed down the food and water and left.
No more than a hundred feet away in the bend of the road huddled a litter of three puppies maybe ten weeks old. I gave them all of the food I had left and a bowl of water. This pisses me off because someone dumped these babies there. The clean healthy pups will change in days to bedraggled, gaunt creatures within days without help. Their best hope is for the counselor crewe to adopt them. This is where I am lately on the subject of dogs.
So I’ve been asked to teach a beginner dog training class on Monday nights in Manatee. I met with the class volunteers, who are wonderful dog lovers. We played with a few of my friend
’s dogs and worked on name recognition. Yes, me
remembering the people’s and the dogs
learning theirs’ when said by anyone other than Alma . Alma
My journey continues; wish me well.
Monday, February 15, 2016
Another year of studying dogs is beginning to be more interesting than ever; that’s dogs for you. In my years living with a dozen or more Rottweilers and/or Bullmastiffs in a fenced ten acre compound I saw them co-operate, communicate in various ways.
I wish humans were intelligent enough to speak dog, the way they understand us; most of all I wish I could speak dog.
My big guard dogs did a perimeter patrol when the spirit moved them, but they went to dog shows, school fairs, nursing homes, so we had activities. They worked as a team when cornering wildlife in our yard. A family of coyotes lived just the other side of the fence. My pure bred, Champion stock stayed near the house, but heaven help anything that strayed in too close; in short they were not obsessed with interlopers.
Puerto Rico, the
stray dogs, having been accepted by a household, become very possessive. There
is a network of trails in the woods. Remember tracking wildlife when you were a
few years younger? We don’t have wildlife; we have farm animals, rodents,
mongoose, and various size lizards. Dogs and cats are sort of wildlife.
Pet dogs have puppies, survivors get a free one way trip to a better part of the island, where they get their asses kicked by dogs already living there or beaten off by a man driving them away with a stick. Dogs wander through the woods in search of a meal and safety.
The Sato Hill Crewe patrols the woods like the devil will sneak in to steal their last sandwich. Now, that our baby Border Collie is patrolling I’m seeing the more subtle cues these dogs send.
This was written before Dominic went missing. His obsessive personality raised the level of perimeter protection; I learned much about my group’s communication while he lived here.
There has been a recent cull; neighbors from down the hill told me about ten dogs that were poisoned and another stolen from a yard. Perhaps that’s why there’s less activity in the woods.
Life with dogs in
Puerto Rico gives me a very different vantage point of our
relationship with dogs. In I always saw dogs as belonging to someone or in need of rescue; here
I see dogs visiting people who feed them, but belong to no one. Illinois
Because of the density of the dog population where I live, threat warnings have become ritualized with an obligatory howl to sum it up. Dogs are dumped regularly, the survivors learn from the old timers in the neighborhood. The traits and survival strategies a dog must have in order to live on the street are easily observed. In a maybe not so odd evolutionary twist small and cute does well; some woman will take small and cute in over night! Smile.
Dogs fascinate me as much today as they did almost a hundred years ago.
Sunday, January 17, 2016
On the two and a half year anniversary of my husband Kirt’s death, I’ve lost my beautiful Border Collie, Dominic, Dominic Perignon. And I thought 2016 would bring healing.
I’m lonely, so I’ve writtten to single men on a friend finder line. All I can say is if I’d buried my husband, I’d be crawling in next to him before I deal with any more slicksters telling me how beautiful I am and our love is written in the stars.
Dominic got dumped at the bottom of my drive early last spring. He hid in the weeds, when I came to get him with a towel. I always wrap new babies and give them a bath welcome to Sato Hill. Black coat, flashy white paws, and perfectly folded ears; he had me before his feet hit the ground. I cooed sweetly to my heart throb; instantly he Velcro’ed himself to my leg, my scared little boy.
In the eight months Dominic lived here, puppy to young adult he matured into a crewe member, even Blondie went hunting with him. Dominic was full of himself in all of the ways young boys push and test boundaries. He thought he was the smartest in the room, which annoyed Chi-Ping, and me upon occasion.
From clingy to challenging I gave him what he needed to mature into a great dog, a companion. My darling boy, who chose to sleep outside was wanting in at night again; patience paid off.
Whoever took him, I pray they give him a good home. This hurts because I don’t believe that many dogs on this island get good homes. Tied in between house and garage is not a good life.
At least I gave Dominic eights months of a wonderful life. I enjoyed getting to know him. LOVE.