Sylvia's Diary 03-04-25

What makes Many Tears so special?

I would hope that all dog rescues have a loving staff who go above and beyond their paid jobs. However, this place is like no other I have ever known. When a rescue gets so large and has so many staff, who in turn home so many dogs, they usually then run in a different direction. But here, we have managed to keep the family feel. The staff get to have their say, the fosterers choose their homes, and we all have a big say in the running. Nearly everywhere you walk there are poems and artwork as well as many sad and pleading eyes trying to look into your soul and attract your attention.

I have been to many rescues including the Disney Land rescue, called Best Friends Animal Sanctuary. This rescue is set in the most amazing scenery in the world. It has a road leading up to it that takes your breath away. You get to the top and find a souvenir shop in the form of a log cabin, that any one of us would LOVE to live in. A cinema is a must before you walk around. Then a bus ride, Yes…. you got that right, a bus takes you around, you can stop off to visit the dogs, sit with the cats, horses’ rabbits etc. they all live in separate pods. You can go back to the café for lunch and then continue looking around. At night you can stay in one of their cabins and have an animal looking for a home stay with you. It's an amazing place and called Best Friends Animal Sanctuary, please have a look around their website. However amazing as it was, I still feel Many Tears is just as special. Those who have visited spent time working and volunteering will say the same. This place is magic. Despite the sadness, the heart aches, the despair runs through hope, love and charity, and that overrides the worries (most of the time). 

The birth and growth of a dream.

My first rescue was from 65 Kingswood Road in Kent. I was about 4, maybe 5, sadly I don’t have my parents to ask any more. We were a family of 5. Mum, Dad and three children. Two who followed the rules, were quiet, worked hard and had no trouble. One who was energetic, imaginative, a rebel, and a real pain in the back side to the rest of the family, and sadly that one was me.

We had a lovely home with a patio up some steps to a huge lawn. Actually, maybe not that big now that I think about it but I was only small and young. My dad was a keen tennis player and had a tennis court on that, then past my pet lime tree (I will go back to that later) onto an apple orchard, well maybe an orchard a little too imaginative, but a plot with probably 10 fruit trees. My bedroom overlooked this and the roof to the sunroom.

My next-door neighbour loved animals for 2 seconds then got rid of them, birds of prey, dogs, kittens, mice, all came and went as did his girlfriends, wife, and poor children. I loved all the animals and constantly bothered him to meet them, till shockingly one day I discovered the mice and kittens were fed to the birds of prey. The dogs suffered abuse as did his children. I don’t know if it was because of that, or that a family friend rescued animals, or it was in my blood, as in India my dad and his family rescued many dogs. But for some reason I was dead set on having a rescue.

My mum, a keen gardener, had tall chrysanthemums in the borders, rose trees all about and many very special plants that she lovingly nurtured, till that terrible day. Peter the boy down the road came to play and armed with a tennis racket and cricket bat we chopped the tall plants down to make space to build a kennel stables and a rabbit area. When my very placid, oh so gentle mum saw Peter had to go home, she stood and cried, and I ran up to my room, climbed out the window and sat on the roof of the sunroom where I could not be found. This was a special place I spent many hours, contemplating and planning, oh yes and dreaming.

I was not allowed my own pet; we had a family dog and that at the time was considered plenty. So, I acquired a huge rope, encircled the lime tree’s trunk, and took Nigel, yes, the tree, on long imaginary adventures rescuing so many dogs and ponies on route, that the days passed quickly. I found many squashed road kills and brought all home for Christian Burials and acquired cats’ dogs and later a pony that all came home and were found other homes that my parents deemed more suitable bar the pony who stayed in the orchard.. I grew up knowing this was what I was meant to do, I hated school, only learnt what I was interested in, and learnt most important things in the real world. By 16 years and 3 months. I left school and started my real education, learning to groom dogs, teach horse riding and learn about horses, working in a vets. By 17 I was running a small rescue from a back garden, and so my life went on. Rescue has been my life, and though I know Many Tears will be the last rescue I work at, the journey has saved thousands of animals, and this is how and why Many Tears was started.

I wrote a book that still helps fund this place, and we still sell, so if interested please feel free to request.

I hope the above interests you, and I hope it will inspire you to follow your dreams and just  “Believe to Achieve”

The Art of Listening to Dogs (Even When They Don’t Speak Human)

How well do you think you know your dog? Do you need a vet degree, a thermometer, or some kind of magical sixth sense to know when something isn’t right? Probably not. But what you do need is to actually watch them.

Take my big, gentle (but sometimes reactive) woolly mammoth of a dog, for example. He’s been “off” for months, nothing drastic, just little things: eating more grass than usual, an upset tummy here and there, the occasional vomit (which, let’s be honest, is practically a hobby for some dogs). But he was still living his best life, running, playing in the stream, raiding the bins the second I looked away. So I chalked it up to him being, well, a dog.

Then, after his regular clipping session, he seemed cold. It was a warm day, but he was shivering. His temperature was just a smidge low, nothing alarming. But something nagged at me. He was nudging me more, looking at me in a way that made me wonder: was he telling me something? Or was I just being one of those people who think their animals send them telepathic messages?

Turns out, I wasn’t imagining it. I took him to the vet, laid out all the little signs, and,, boom - Addison’s disease. The vet suspected it partly from his symptoms and partly because he has Standard Poodle in him (a breed that’s prone to it). The good news? It’s treatable. And because I noticed early, he’ll live a normal, happy life.

And then, last night, another of my dogs sat beside me, staring. No whining, no pacing, no dramatic “take me outside, or I’ll explode” antics. Just a look. I absentmindedly scratched his head, told him to lie down. He refused. Still staring. Eventually, I got up, took him outside - and immediately, he had a bad tummy. What a polite, clever boy! Instead of wrecking the floor, he came to tell me.

Moral of the story: Dogs do talk. They don’t use words, but they do tell us things. If we just take the time to watch, to notice patterns, to listen (even when there’s no sound), we can pick up on what they’re saying. Writing things down helps too, small signs over time can paint a bigger picture. And sometimes, noticing can mean the difference between catching something early and missing it completely.

 Speaking of heart-wrenching goodbyes…

Carly came to us pregnant. She spent a week in foster with one of our team, who absolutely adored her. The feeling was mutual, so much so that when Carly returned to have her puppies, the foster mother couldn’t even visit her at first. Carly would have left her pups just to be with her.

Yesterday, Carly found her forever home. Her foster carer was happy for her, but oh, the tears. It’s always bittersweet because while we know they’re meant to leave, loving them so much makes it hard.

Rescue work is a rollercoaster - joy, sadness, exhaustion, triumph, all in one day. The people here pour everything into these dogs, and the level of care is astonishing. Every day, we’re doing health checks, surgeries, follow-ups. Our vet team is incredible - two vet nurses, a vet, and an overseas vet working toward his UK qualification. There are plenty of skilled hands, plenty of watchful eyes.

And in the end, that’s all we can do - our best. And when you’re surrounded by people giving their absolute best to save, heal, and rehome these dogs, that’s something pretty special.

Busy Busy Busy

The weeks flown by, a lot of dogs coming in, a lot waiting, and not so many going out. A few cats have also found homes, but their spaces have immediately been taken up.

Monday, we’ve got two more dogs going in for x-rays - one for an ear canal that’s basically non-existent (but still manages to leak pus, lovely), and another to see if his growth plates have closed enough for surgery. This boy literally can’t stand, but we’re hoping that will change soon.

We have been blessed with wonderful volunteer vets and vet nurses, who gave up their time for our dogs, and cats, and this we are so grateful for.

We have also had another bit of luck and the second agility show organizers at Ardingly showground have agreed for us to come, and offered us one free space, and we will pay for three others. It's crucial that we are able to make these shows successful, as they help us with the huge extra vet bills we encounter weekly. If you can give some time to help, either setting up on July 3rd or selling on July 4th, 5th or 6th we would be very grateful. Please email me if you can help on swvanatta@gmail.com.

Thank you for your help, support, love and prayers this week. Each week is a struggle at the moment, and every kindness is noticed and so appreciated.

Sylvia

Ps please see a couple of the pictures of dogs that came in this week that would have died without yours and our help, and please watch the videos of some of our staff's favourite dogs.  

THANK YOU