Sylvia's Diary 20-02-25

Diary Entry – The Great Sage

Tumble Today, my very special horse, Sage, took a rather spectacular tumble. But before I get into the details, let me introduce you to Sage properly. Imagine a teenage boy testing every boundary possible, or a cat launching itself off the mantelpiece, missing the intended landing spot, crashing into the washing-up—and then pretending that was exactly what they meant to do. That’s Sage in a nutshell. Horses, ponies, and donkeys, just like dogs, cats, and humans all have their own personalities. When given the freedom to express themselves (rather than being coerced into behaving a certain way), they reveal their quirks in the most delightful and, occasionally, disastrous ways. Sage, however, has never been one for quiet self-expression. Subtlety? Not in his vocabulary, and so, today’s incident: Sage was engaging in his favorite pastime: playing. Not just rolling his treat ball (a clever little contraption with holes that release treats as it moves). No, Sage doesn’t merely roll his treat ball. He dribbles it like a footballer, nudges it like a cat, and, when the mood strikes, throws in a bit of interpretive dance. Hoof work, leaps, kicks are a part of his usual chaotic masterpiece. Unfortunately, whether he was attempting some daring new trick or just got a little overenthusiastic, he managed to tangle himself up in his own legs and boom! Down he went. A full-blown, horse-sized crash. Naturally, us humans panicked. Sage, however, sprang back up with that classic “Nothing to see here” expression, as if gravity had momentarily malfunctioned just to inconvenience him. The result? A few scraped knees, some deep grazes on his side, and a dent to his dignity. Did he want sympathy? Absolutely not. Did he want a break? Also no. What he did want—immediately—was his treat ball back so he could try that again. For us, it was a moment of terror. For Sage? Just another thrilling chapter in the action-packed saga of his young life.

A Lonely Farewell

Today, we took in a grieving soul. An old man passed away, alone in the world except for his faithful collie. He had lived in harsh, almost unlivable conditions—practically homeless—but through it all, she stayed by his side. His only family. His only warmth. The police found him and, with their kindness, brought his collie to us. When she arrived, she did not whine or bark, she just laid her head in her paws, eyes heavy with sorrow, letting out soft, broken whimpers. She knew. She understood. She had lost everything. No relatives to claim her. No home to return to. Just silence where he once was. Tonight, she sleeps in a new place, but it is not home. Because home was him.

I felt such sadness I wrote Molly a poem. And yes, I know I am no real poet like Kipling or Lord Bryon, but here’s my offering

I stood by your side when you lost your home,
I stood there beside you, so you weren’t alone,
For months and years, I was there by your side,
It was me who was there the day that you died.

I waited and waited but you never woke up,
I waited and waited for your sweet touch,
Then someone noticed you were not around,
The police came knocking, and then I was found.

I was taken away to an unfamiliar place,
I was taken from you, labelled an unwanted case,
So now I am alone, and you’re not here,
What will become of me this lonely year?

I know I cannot read dogs' minds, but I know this girl is craving to be someone's again.

We’ve been living in the past… But not anymore! For far too long, our website has been prehistoric—a relic of the past while technology has been sprinting ahead. We’ve been limping along, hoping the digital world wouldn’t leave us behind. But let’s be honest… it did. That’s why, two years ago, we made a big decision: it was time for an upgrade. And now, after years of planning and hard work, we’re finally ready to unveil our brand-new website!

This is more than just a fresh look—it’s a complete transformation. The new site will make it easier than ever for potential adopters to browse and filter through our available dogs, helping them find their perfect match faster. Plus, we’re launching a streamlined donation platform to simplify supporting our rescue. This is a major milestone for us, and we can’t wait to share it with you. Stay tuned for the big reveal!

Not even a week has passed, and I’m already on my way to Southern Ireland. I knew this would be a busy trip, but everything is ready. The last dogs from the north have been seen by the vet, many have been spayed or neutered, and some are already settling into foster homes. Space has been made, kennels scrubbed, new heat bulbs installed, and food is ready for the new arrivals.

This time, we’re sending out two vans, each with over 30 crates, some big enough to hold two or three Labradors. We know exactly which dogs we’re picking up, they have passports and are coming from breeders, farms, rescues, and even individuals who heard through the vet that we’d be in the area. It has been a challenge to put everything together, and at times, overwhelming. But with the support of Bill, my dogs, my horses, and my incredible team, I’ve managed to push through.

Bill keeps me going, making sure I eat and rest even when my mind is racing. My dogs comfort me just by being there, and the horses, who aren’t really mine but feel like they are calling to me, happy to see me and my pocket full of treats. These little moments of joy are what keep me grounded.

Love light and then luca and Alli. Last night, I dreamt of Light, who is my beloved dog who I lost. I called him Light because of a moment that changed my life 13 years ago. I had been caring for a sick puppy, found dying on the side of the road. I fought for her, and so did the vet, but in the end, she was too weak to survive. I remember the pain, screaming into the wind, questioning how such cruelty could exist. In that moment, I felt lost, like I had nothing left to believe in.

Then, months later, a vet called. A mother dog had come into the clinic in a coma. The vet performed a c section and her puppies miraculously survived. The mum also recovered and many years later we had to home her also.The pups needed round-the-clock care, so we took them in. Many were too premature to make it, but one tiny fighter held on. I prayed for him, begged for his life, and he survived. I named him Light—because he brought me back to belief, to hope, to love.

Light was with me through everything. He walked with me from the London Eye back to the rescue to raise funds, stood by my side through every challenge, and filled my world with kindness. Not a moment passes that I don’t think of him. Now, I have Luca who is another Goldendoodle, whose name also means “light.” Luca was born at the rescue, meant to be homed, but for one reason or another, every adoption fell through. One night, while helping another dog, I kept hearing a tiny whimper from the kennel. It was Luca. I took him in my arms, and he curled up against me, as if he had been waiting for me all along. That night, I fell asleep with him resting on my arm, and when I woke, he was still there. Bill and I decided then and there that Luca would stay. Luca has his own way of bringing light into the world. When Ali arrived, she was the thinnest dog I had ever seen. She was so malnourished that her body had started shutting down, her stomach swelling with fluid. The vet wanted to put her to sleep, but I knew she deserved a chance. She was terrified of everyone and everything, but Luca had a way of showing her the world wasn’t so scary. As Ali got stronger, Luca became her guide. He ran and played, and when no one was watching, I let her join him. Slowly, she learned to trust. When it was time to home her, she was too afraid to leave without him. That’s when I knew that Ali belonged with Luca, and Luca belonged with Ali. Now, they are inseparable. They eat together, sleep curled up side by side, and run across the fields like they were always meant to be together. Watching them is pure joy. The bond they share is something rare and beautiful. A constant reminder that love, trust, and companionship can heal even the deepest wounds. And that makes every challenge, every long drive, and every sleepless night worth it.

The Hardest Journey Yet

This journey to Ireland has topped every trip I’ve ever done and for all the wrong reasons.

With two vans, we had double the paperwork and a staggering number of dogs to collect. Among them, a pair of German Shepherds so deeply bonded that when I separated them to give each space to stretch, they panicked - screaming, crying, completely inconsolable. The moment I put them back together, they curled up, pressing against each other, finally at peace.

So many faces. So  many stories. All of them loaded into the vans with no idea where they were going or what their future will hold. The weight of the responsibility sat heavy on my shoulders. 

Then, at the port, as we queued for the office, a massive lorry pulled up besides us, packed with over 100 baby calves. Their cries were deafening, frantic, and desperate. They called and called for their mothers, who had already been torn away from them so that people could have milk. And where were these babies going? To slaughter. All the way to France. 

The sight, the sound - it made me feel physically sick. The suffering of those calves, the unseen agony of their mothers left behind, the sheer cruelty of it all. This world is brutal beyond words.

Now, it’s nearly midnight. The ferry crossing is rough. One driver has been sick. The dogs are in the vans and we aren’t allowed to check on them yet. The stress is unbearable, for them and for us. We know what’s ahead for them tomorrow: extra vets, extra groomers, extra hands ready to love and care for them. But they don’t know that. Right now, they are scared, confused, and exhausted. We made the van clean and as comfortable as we could and beyond their wildest dreams, duvets to snuggle into, lavender scent to help them relax and clean clear water to drink at will, but some have never been away from the kennels they were born at, some never away from their humans they loved, some never been away from a life they new. It’s a lot for them all to understand. Multiple drivers and co drivers talk and pet them but we all feel their pain.

And I feel it all. Their fear. The weight of what we do. And the cries of those calves still echo in my head, making it all the worse. May God forgive mankind for the suffering we inflict - for our greed, our cruelty, our utter lack of empathy for the living, breathing souls we share this world with.

Because we are so close, I have decided that we will be launching the new competition as soon as possible in March. So please start taking your snaps of your animals and looking through your photos so you’re ready to hopefully enter. We are hoping this will fund a trip to Ireland to rescue many others. Yesterday’s trip saved 117 lives, took around 30 hours of planning for me, a further 30 hours of scrubbing, disinfecting, changing heart lamp bulbs, setting up the vans etc. 13 staff turned up last night to help unload in the bitter cold, and stayed till well after 1.30, settling and feeding them. If you can believe, the cost of this rescue was a massive £7,959.40p.

Today they are all seeing two vets while another vet is spaying. This is a huge and expensive operation. We do this all on a shoestring budget and are proud we are careful with funds to save as many as possible, the more trust we have the more we can educate, and this works well. We have both adults and children who constantly benefit from our knowledge, and that means many dogs do too. We saved dogs whose owners were leaving the country, and though they asked the pound, the pound said they would probably be put to sleep. We saved a puppy that a wonderful lady took from the pound before he died, and her twin daughters cared for till he was passported and old enough to travel. Dogs that had not sold, that would not work, whose owners were divorced, no longer wanted, were given as unwanted Christmas presents. Just so many stories, so many dogs.

Just one more thing we can all do, and it takes less time than brushing your hair unless you are Yul Brunner. If you could please take a look at the petitions below and sign them that would be greatly appreciated.

The first one, for Camp Beagle to stop beagles being bred and used for experiments. These are truly cruel, horrific and torturous experiments so please sign Ban immediately the use of dogs in scientific and regulatory procedures - Petitions

The second is, Wales against animal experiments which also needs signatures and support so please sign this too

We are the voice of the voiceless, and for them we should and must speak, PLEASE.

You all know that your love for dogs has helped many, maybe not just here, and that’s fine, a dog in need is still a dog in need no matter the country. It is a rescue regardless, no matter what, I just wanted to thank you all for caring.

Sylvia x