New Animal Advocate Group Organizes

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.

Puerto Rico has many abogados sympathetic to the cause of dogs. For your board of directors reach into the community for successful business people, bankers and clergy; who do you know from the tourism industry? These supporters should be the ones to get the coveted 501C for a non profit and provide business and legal insights.

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.

God bless.

How the World Lived With Dogs

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 US tolerance for free ranging dogs. Americans can’t tolerate wolves in Yellowstone; dogs roaming in forest preserves, waiting to prey on children strikes fear.  It’s a national phobia.

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?

Feeding Starving Dogs and Abandoned Puppies

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?

  

Spaying Street Bitches

Rounding up stray bitches for sterilization is more difficult than I thought it would be.

Far out of my comfort zone is talking in Spanish to strangers. I can see it in their faces; they don't trust me, when they finally understand me.

One family, I offered to take the six puppies to a shelter my friend runs, the woman's granddaughter told her in Spanish, right in front of me, "The gringa is going to make money off las perritas." The puppies vanished, I don't know how or where. A year later the pregnant shaggy terrier mom disappeared from the yard, only a handsome young son remains; and that’s my neighbor.

Since I’ve lived here, any dog moving in gets vaccinations and neutering on me. Little puppies wandering in the street break my heart. I don’t make money; I donate time, energy and money to improve life for dogs. Our relationship with dogs began in the caves, they’ve served us since then; don’t we owe them?

Free roaming carnivores maintain a balance in rodent population, if the dogs hunt is another topic.  Too many dogs is the problem; I think of it as finding an ecological balance and believe that the barbaric practice of collecting and killing them should be replaced with trap, neuter and return. 

   

Returning a post operative dog to a vacant area doesn’t set well, so going with people at least somewhat interested in it appeals, comes with other perils.

 I'm going further away from home talking to people. I need to enlist help from local people. Catching dogs the night before spay day, even dogs I feed when I see them, is hit or miss, so where I see dogs hanging around, I know that a person cares enough to feed at least occasionally. These are the people I need to support to end the huge reproduction cycle.

Understanding the street dog problem in Puerto Rico has taken a long time. Finding a boots on the ground part of the solution I can believe in; halleluiah, I’m blessed.

Each week I’ll be bringing up to three females/hembras to the vet to be spayed. In my valley, over the years I’ve learned where dogs are fed; the dogs hang on the outside of the fence. I believe these are the people I need to say hello to, but people get weird looks on their faces when I speak; you have no idea.

Well, wish me luck!