Monday 27th July: The continuing story of the breeder dogs

Since the arrival of the dogs from the breeder on Saturday it’s been all hands on deck to get them sorted.  That means vet visits and finding homes, permanent or foster.  Apart from the two corgis that were adopted almost as soon as they came through the kennel gates, there isn’t a completely healthy dog among the remaining seven.  Both poms are in pretty awful shape, one having a broken leg and the other being totally bald.  The fox terrier boy, Rasta, is the best of the bunch as he only has weak back legs due to being caged.  We see this far too often.  It’s just muscle wastage because of lack of any sort of exercise, but the build-up needs to be slow to ensure there’s no injury.  The muscles keep the knees in place, and the last thing we want is to have slipping kneecaps.

One of the dogs is an adorable terrier girl, a mix of maybe a Scottie and a Westie, or maybe a Cairn.  In any case, she’s cute as can be, still young, and it’s her lucky day today despite her having awful skin and diarrhoea.  A couple come to the kennels looking for a dog to adopt, and a bit of a sales-pitch-cum-sob-story has them leaving with Twix on a foster basis.  That’s good enough for now, as she just needs some home care and TLC to get her right.  Even if the couple decide against adoption (unlikely), we’ll have no trouble homing this little sweetheart.

Talking of sweethearts, I have to bring little pup Ginger to the vet today as he has had very bad diarrhoea since his exciting day at Whiskers’n’Paws yesterday.  I suspect it’s the treats he was given, and I’m pretty sure it’s nothing serious like parvovirus, but I need to make sure.  Ginger loves to be carried, and he lolls in my arms like a baby, legs akimbo and arms dangling.  In fact, as I’m typing this he is sitting on my lap, though ‘sitting’ doesn’t really describe his relaxed pose.  The vet agreed that parvo could be ruled out and he’s just on some antibiotics for a tummy upset, but he’s still very quiet and subdued (and rather enjoying the babying, I suspect).

 I’m piecing together the story of the breeder dogs and where they came from and why they were given up.  It seems there are still dogs from the same place that are now in a shelter in the New Territories and I want to try and get them out.  I know the shelter owners are invariably good hearted people with the best of intentions, but too often dogs that end up in these places never come out again, and conditions aren’t great to put it mildly.  As much as our own kennels are very full, at least the dogs have a chance of being adopted and the smaller ones usually stay with us only long enough to make sure they’re desexed and healthy before going to new homes.

 I’m also trying to decide whether I can move the ex-bedroom pups to the kennels.  There are eight of them, and they can best be described as uber-friendly.  That means that whenever I’m downstairs, I have a cluster of pups attached to each foot making walking impossible, and a careful shuffle is the only way I can move across the floor.  If I stand still, there are eight sets of teeth embedded in my toes and ankles.  Bless their hearts, they are only being  affectionate, but it hurts!  I have to do a little dance as I’m making coffee, hopping from one leg to the other so the teeth can’t get a decent grip.  Wherever I am, the pups are there too.  If I put them outside, they simply dash round the back and in through the kitchen door to resume their demonstration of love and happiness, ie, chewing me.  Their adoration is being wasted on me, and they should be in homes where they are appreciated rather than avoided.  If only……….

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