Sylvia's Diary 06-02-25

Saturdays are chaotic. Families come from far and wide, eager to meet their new best friend. But we are small. There isn’t enough space, not enough hands, not enough time. We use my house, the shop, the grooming rooms, even our laps. We do whatever we can, because the dogs come first. They always have. They always will.

We love all the adoptions, and although there is a large amount of dogs we take and rehome, we are small in human facilities. I always felt that improving the facilities for dogs, cats and horses was the most important. The visitors are only here for a while so plush meet and greet areas or places to book dogs out were lower priority. I think overall the public feel the same. If ever there was no worry with money, I would still feel that, as then that would mean we could help other desperate dogs elsewhere.

Saturdays are chaotic. Families come from far and wide, eager to meet their new best friend. But we are small. There isn’t enough space, not enough hands, not enough time. We use my house, the shop, the grooming rooms, even our laps. We do whatever we can, because the dogs come first. They always have. They always will.

We love all the adoptions, and although there is a large amount of dogs we take and rehome, we are small in human facilities. I always felt that improving the facilities for dogs, cats and horses was the most important. The visitors are only here for a while so plush meet and greet areas or places to book dogs out were lower priority. I think overall the public feel the same. If ever there was no worry with money, I would still feel that, as then that would mean we could help other desperate dogs elsewhere.

But this is where the challenge comes in. We give times for the public to come and adopt, once home vetted and all is finalised. However, they travel from all over and the roads being what they are, predicting to get here at the right time and they have little chances of accomplishing that. So, five families can all turn out at once, and all be excited to meet, socialize and book out and adopt their chosen one. However, we only have one reception that’s busy greeting volunteers and visitors waiting for show around’s. One corner can be used for adoptions, and that leaves four other families with nowhere to book their dog out. We use what’s left of my house since the front is now offices, the rear a grooming room. We use the shop, the grooming rooms, and unfortunately clip boards and our laps. We are going to go digital, but that needs a number of tablets and warm fingers. There is no real answer, other than please God, people can be patient. I know some rescues have great facilities for the public but forgive me for thinking of our dogs first.

The way it all works is that we have two identical huge boards with all the kennels on, and all the dogs’ names and breeds in each kennel. Orange means not booked in yet, green means they have not spayed or neutered yet, blue means they have been spayed or neutered, black means that everything is done, and red means booked and reserved for a home. We have this backed up on the computer's database too. Each day colours are changed; dogs move kennels or are adopted. It's complicated but works well. Also, all the staff get to see the reds, and that lifts all our spirits.

This week has been full of victories, heartbreaks, and impossible choices.

Skippy, the little Cavalier who could barely walk, took her first steps toward a future without pain. Lux, a pup everyone thought was beyond saving, found his forever family because someone refused to give up. Pawline, who came to us giving birth, finally left in the arms of a family who will love her for the rest of her life.

But then there’s Mince Pie.

She was found in the boot of an abandoned car, her ears cruelly cut off. A scared little soul, carrying the weight of a past she never asked for. We’ve tried so hard to find her a home, but every promise has crumbled. People look at her and see only what was done to her, not the sweet, gentle heart inside. She has done nothing wrong, yet she waits, and waits, and waits.

And then there’s Frank. A once-proud racehorse, passed from hand to hand until fear and trauma made him “useless.” 

Sadly, we just don’t have the space to take Frank in, but we won’t turn our backs on him. We’ll put him on our website, share his story, and do everything we can to find him a home where he is loved for who he is—not for what he can do.

Each call, each plea for help, weighs heavier these days. Maybe it’s because I’m older. Maybe it’s because pain is my constant companion now. Maybe it’s because the stories just keep getting worse. Dogs abandoned because their owners got sick, died, or simply didn’t want them anymore. Puppies born into homes that never planned for them.

Two weeks ago, my daughter put her two foster Cockapoo puppies up for adoption. Within 20 minutes, she had over 40 applications for each. They were young, fluffy, and perfect. Their futures were sealed before they even knew what they were missing. Yesterday, she posted about Lola. Lola is a 9-year-old Staffordshire Bull Terrier, taller than most, with eyes that have seen too much loss. Her mum—her whole world—took her own life last year. In the chaos that followed, Lola was passed to the son, who struggled with addiction and violence. She stayed with him, through fear and hunger, until last week, when he was arrested. His girlfriend and children fled, leaving Lola behind in an empty house.

No one came for her. No authorities stepped in. She was forgotten.

For days, she sat alone, waiting for someone who would never return. If not for a kind neighbor who fed her and let her out, she might have wasted away in that cold, silent house. Now, she is safe with us. But in the nine hours since her post went live, not a single person has asked for her. Not one application. Her crime? Being a Staffie. Being nine years old. When I laid a bed down for her, she flinched, too used to expecting harm. But when she saw the sofa, she climbed up as if she had finally found a piece of home.

She is house-trained. She adores children. She is gentle and kind. And yet, she is invisible. I don’t have the answers. I just know that love is the only thing keeping me going. The love of those who adopt, who donate, who share these stories. The love of our volunteers, who pick up the broken pieces. The love of the dogs themselves, who still trust us, still believe in us, no matter how many times the world has let them down.

If you can help, please do. Share Lola’s story. Share Mince Pie’s story. Share Frank’s.

For every Lux who gets a second chance, there’s a Mince Pie still waiting. For every Frank abandoned, there should be someone willing to show him he is worth saving. And for every Lola, sitting on a sofa that isn’t really hers, there should be a family who will never let her go again.

We had a picture from “Polar Bears” new owner. He was the GSD I saw at a breeder that was acquired to be a guard dog. It was very late in the evening when I got to the breeders to pick up dogs and in fact, it was so late it was dark. I saw this completely white GSD bolt under a car, and as the breeder brought his dogs out, I tried to make friends with the dog. He certainly was no guard dog at all. I asked as he clearly had no intention to guard if I could take him on my next trip, and once he was passported. However, the breeder felt it was early days, and he could change into what he needed. I went home with him on my mind every day. I called the breeder a few times, and when the vet was rabies jabbing other dogs to prepare to come, I was told he was coming too. It was about the only thing that week that made me smile. Three and a bit weeks later I picked the snowy shepherd up and thanked the breeder for letting me have him. I was so pleased he was to be given a chance of a pet dog home. ”Polar Bear“ became many people’s favourite dog. A lovely couple saw him and later adopted him. They kept in touch with one of the staff too. Recently they sent a picture and wrote of how they were allowed to take him to a rest home for elderly to see their relative. He was so well behaved they enrolled him to be a pet therapy dog and now he visits and helps people regularly.

The phone always rings in the evening or at night and if it’s the police, it could be a police force from anywhere over Wales. It seems they all have the same problem. They are not a stray pound or a dog warden for the council. People grumble if we feel the police are not doing enough, but expect them to do jobs that they have been told are not their responsibility. However, what should they do? Leave a starving dog on the side of the road? Catch a dog on the M4 then let it free in a safer place??? They don’t and won’t do that and so they call me and probably others closer to them who cannot help. We ourselves are not the pound, so getting up in the middle of the night taking in strays to help the dog and the police is hard, because the less the police release to us, the more that must go to the pound. So, we love, we take care, we bathe, groom, inoculate, then a dog warden would pick up and take to the pound. Worse still are cases of those who died. The police find the body, not knowing at that time how long the persons been dead for, and then find no relatives, and cannot find someone to take the dog. You see the dog would not be classified as a stray in that situation, so they cannot go to the pound. I try to help whenever I can, but the amount of pocket xl bullies and bully types left to stray not wanted or with dead owners has been so extreme lately, we feel we cannot just take them all.

Before I go let me tell you about Heidi: One Very Round, Very Lazy Bulldog Seeks Human Servant

Meet Heidi, the four-legged loaf of love who firmly believes that exercise is a scam and that the only marathon worth running is a Netflix one.

Heidi is a chunky, snorty, waddling queen who has perfected the art of couch surfing. Jogging? Absolutely not. A brisk walk? Please. She’ll give you exactly three enthusiastic steps before dramatically flopping over in protest.

She is, however, extremely skilled in the following areas: Snoring at a volume that could rival a jet engine and wobbling her way into your heart (and onto your sofa).

Heidi is super friendly and adores people—so much so that she’d love to be your one and only. She wants ALL the attention, ALL the belly rubs, and ALL the snacks (seriously, hold onto your sandwiches). She’s looking for a home where she can be spoiled rotten, snooze to her heart’s content, and pretend she’s a lapdog despite being built like a small ottoman. If you have a comfy couch, a sense of humor, and a high tolerance for snoring and bulldog toots, Heidi is ready to move in and take over your life in the best way possible.

Thank you for being part of this journey with me. Sylvia x