Sylvia's Diary 23-04-24

I would first like to say I am sorry if I offend anyone with my diary for the week. These are my thoughts, pains, and elations. We all have opinions and mine are based on what I know, the vets I have worked with and the dogs I have met. I fight for the dogs as they live in my world, and they often have no voice. To me, a dog is superior to humans. If you take the percentage of humans who have committed terrible crimes, to the percentage of dogs who have, there is no competition.  

If you take the percentage of humans who are loyal and honest, to the percentage of dogs who are, there is no competition.  Yes, humans can invent, build and get rich but at what cost to others? Trust, loyalty, and love outweigh human assets. But this is just my opinion, and that’s why, to me, a dog is far superior to humans. So again, for last week's entry and the person who was so sad about what I wrote, I would never try to hurt anyone. Those words are just my opinions at the time, no one elses.  For those dogs lost last week I engraved 3 leaves and hung them in our remembrance tree, all never to be forgotten!

The day after the terrible day of last week, still feeling low and full of cold, I walked by "Yuma" and he made me smile...

I will try to explain.
Over 25 years ago on a sponsored lonely 3,500-mile horseback ride in Arizona, I made the decision to open Many Tears. It was a good 5 years later I did this but I knew it would happen. After the ride and when just married to Bill (the cowboy/businessman of my dreams) he took me on a road trip.  To impress me, he booked what he thought was a special hotel along the way.  It was in Yuma and in the middle of nowhere and the hotel turned out to be a real dive with cockroaches running on the floor. It was  certainly very memorable!

On the trip home, we stopped at a roadside service for fuel. Beside the pumps were hundreds of plaster statues of dogs, lizards, donkeys, just about anything you could imagine.  I wandered about until I came to a pile of rejects, one of which was a 2-foot plaster dog. Some of his forehead, back and rump had broken off and were missing. I wandered into the shop where Bill was paying for the fuel and asked about the dog on the scrap heap.  They looked at me with a knowing expression (I’m sure they were thinking “Yes, the English are mad”) and told me 1 dollar was his cost. I picked him up and told Bill I was going to mend him as I had a big job for him (and at that point I think Bill had also thought “Yes, English people are nuts).

Bill’s dad had one of those workshops every man envies. Every tool, clean and in its place, drawers of extras, glues, nuts, screws, sheets of fibre glass, resin, the lot. I asked if I could use it, and on the go ahead set about mending “Yuma”.  Once satisfied, I painted him, put a slot in his neck for funds, and proudly showed him to Bill, his dad, and family. His dad said I was mad, shipping him home would cost a packet and years later it cost $40 to send "Yuma" to the UK. 

The reason I smiled that day on passing him, was because a staff member threw their coat over him and it brought back memories. This plaster dog who no one at the rescue knows his name or history other than Bill and I, has raised well over £10,000 over the years. (From scrap heap to that!). So that smile on my face set me up for a days success.

My remaining 3 tiny pups seem to be on the mend and the larger ones were going from strength to strength.  They started playing, snuggling, crying when I left, being aware of my love, and craving my comfort.  The staff, through hard work and belief, homed a long-term staying dog called Hazel, a Pug x Boxer, and to top it all off, a big donation of raw food came in. What was there not to smile about?

Once or twice a month, I travel to pick up dogs in either Northern or Southern Ireland. This takes a huge amount of planning, organising, and of course money. The planning to making this trip go without any hiccups is so huge. I always get a 3-day migraine on the build up to going.  I take pills, do massages on my head, pressure points to stop this from happening, but it doesn’t, it's just my way of life and I've had to get used to it for many years. I don't say much to anyone anymore, as its so boring for people to hear, just try to grin and bear it, and work through it. So I have one today, yes, 3 days before I leave.

I used to go with my dogs as company, but now with different travel laws in Ireland I cannot take anyone, so for company I have a talking book. I’m grateful I have the privilege of collecting these dogs to find new homes, but sad I have to put them into crates, and take them all that way to start their journey to happiness.

Wonderful supporters cut up duvets and I make each dogs crate comfy and inviting. I drip lavender oil on their beds to relax them, good food and sausages (thank you to Stenaline who give them to me for breakfast + extras, but as a vegan I save them for the dogs). I try to make the journey as easy as possible but as I drive through the Many Tears gates I thank God for getting me home safely.

Sunday is a very early start for me, in fact 3:30am, as I have pups to feed, 2 tiny new born pups to tube feed as their mum hasn't got a lot of milk, then all the sections that I am assigned to do in the morning and feed.

Next, all the paperwork for the foster van has to be checked and then the 6am staff and Joyce who drives the van comes in. The dogs get microchip scanned, checked, and a woolly jumper so they aren't cold in the van. This Sunday 24 lucky babies will go to foster homes where they will be loved, cherished and helped until their forever homes can be found. However special we try to make it in kennels for the dogs, nothing can compare to a home.

Sunday is also decision day for me.  I count those who have gone to foster, count those who have been adopted and look at the number of dogs coming in on the Irish run and then go through a huge amount calls from people begging for help. Some we had asked to only call if it was at the end of their lives because no one else can take them. Many this week are because they cannot afford veterinary treatment and have been advised to put their dog to sleep if they do not want to or cannot pay. Some because people are moving, others because of relationship break ups, deaths and even a dog if it's growing too big for the home! I won’t write my thoughts on that..... but this is not a nice job playing God.  In the past I call back to make sure they have found a place because I have not heard from them, only to be told “we had to put him to sleep because we were moving” they had never made the second call to say it was an emergency.

To me, dogs are so much better than humans who can treat them as throw away commodities. A dog never throws away his loyalty to a human.  This may make me sound so cynical, I meet some amazing humans and admire them greatly, so please don't think I hate people, it's just on the whole, I love dogs more. So today I have to try to help all I can who no other rescue or individual could help and it's a really big weight on my shoulders, of course all week we have taken in the desperate, the no hopers, and of course the ex-breeders, but now it's the list that needs to be checked, as for me, they should never be out of sight or out of mind, if I slip up and don't follow up some get put to sleep but others will suffer.

That brings me to Dupree and all those that came with her.  A good 5 months previously I had a call from a breeder a long way away, wanting his and his friends bulldog types to be picked up. I talked at length to him and said to call someone I knew nearer to him who ran a great rescue, but to call me if they couldn't help. He didn't call me and neither did I check with my friend or him.  It was a human slip up and one I cannot forgive myself for, as 5 months later he called again, same dogs, same problem. I was so cross with myself for not picking them up the first time and although we were pretty full, I still sent the van out to collect them. I wish I had gone myself, but I could not, and neither could my usual driver, so we sent a new driver.

When the dogs arrived home it was clear that some were Frenchies but others were British Bulldog mixed with Frenchies to get the appearance of mini British Bulldogs.  We had to do nasal wedges to open the dogs' airways so they could breathe, one dog has a collapsed trachea, all underweight, and had mange.  So far, their vet bills exceed £10,000 and one died a week after having an emergency surgery.

These poor bull breeds dogs who have very flat noses suffer beyond belief.  Next time you see one on a walk, stop and look at its nostrils. Are they big and round? Or are they slits? Now, pinch your nostrils, not completely shut, but nearly, now breathe, now run about a bit.  By this time I expect your mouth is open but what if the inside of your mouth was so fleshy, and your airways so small, that the intake of air was a true problem? Now imagine this every day, all your life, until you possibly die gasping!!  Now tell me you still want these breeders to breed these poor suffering dogs and hey, what's the Kennel Club, or the major animal welfare authorities, or the council, or the public doing about it? 

One very special girl Dupree, was sick every time she was fed, we tried feeding her small feeds, liquid feeds, so many variations, but she was still being sick, we had her x-rayed to see if she had a deformity like megaoesophagus and found she did, but it was a very serious type, as the problem was before her heart, not after.  Our vet felt it kindest to put her to sleep, but I saw her in between being sick and she was happy, lively, and loving, so I disagreed and sent her to a specialist for an MRI, this did not give us any answers, and they could not see any operation that could help her, but told us about some drugs we could try. Dan and Lily, two employees offered to take her to their home, and they, and the drugs have worked miracles.  She was spayed this week, and is going from strength to strength, and now just needs a home with a little bit of time to feed her the correct way, and a few times a day.  So, though I messed up, and did not pick these guys up sooner, we have managed to make their lives a lot happier and though I went against the vet's advice, Dupree is alive, very happy, and hoping for a forever home, and that is yet another thing to smile about. 

Now I’m writing my final part for my weeks entry and I’m on a ferry feeling flustered and worried.  The crossing is rough and expected to get worse.  When I left the rescue I had to let Bill go alone to a very isolated farm to pick up a lot of dogs and puppies.  It's a very hard location to find and you literally have to drive through fields, farm yards and around the side of a mountain.  I felt so sad he had to go alone, as I know how hard it is to find the place but I had to catch that ferry.

I will get into Ireland, drive nearly 4 hours, sleep, then start driving to my first pickup. By starting early I can stop lots to change beds, water and feed, believe me, it will be a very long day.  The whole trip turned out to be a real adventure, even the ferry crossing was a real eye opener. On board there was a clan (maybe that's the wrong word) of well over 30 men, around half I suspect were inebriated, and loud, there was also about 40 old age pensioners who were on a coach trip. When it was time to disembark we line up by the door to the stairs, and the sweet very old age pensioners were standing with sticks etc. waiting. However, a man from the large group literally pushed us out of the way and told all his clan to come too, and then, at the top of his voice, he announced “We do what we want, take what we need, and go where we please” and they did, despite the old age pensioners squished up against the wall like sardines.

When in my van waiting to get off the ferry, the men were in their cars smoking, and flicking the lit cigarettes onto the deck, under the cars that stood there possibly dripping oil!  It's like everything, some can spoil it for others, not all men are like that, but these ones will make others feel like they are.  Later in the same trip, the police were pulling cars, lorries, and vans on the motorway. Everyone was interviewed and breathalysed, something that I never had done in my whole life. However, the police were charming, kind and helpful, but best of all, hugely compassionate towards the dogs and wanted to meet them and felt such sadness for them all. It was a very positive experience even though I've never been breathalysed before - and yes, I was clear!

Well my long blog is nearly ended, my heart is not heavy, even though between Joyce and I, we brought back over 80 dogs.  Instead of being sad, I feel privileged to be in a position to help dogs.  Some have miserable stories like the 2 Jack Russells who escaped when a farm was targeted and raided, causing the farmer to lose his mind, shoot his cows and take his own life. The 2 JRs were found later at the farm waiting for their dinner.  Or there is the blind Pointer who wasn't wanted as she couldn't work, or the Husky with the huge tumour on her side.  So many stories, but now they are safe because of this place and your support. This rescue cost a lot 80 dogs' passports, which was £5000+, and then the ferry, and the vans wear and tear and fuel (and on top of that we need to replace this van which will cost £60,000 with it all fitted out).  None  of this is possible without you all. So, thank you for your support and for reading about my week.
Sylvia