During the war here many people couldn't manage to feed their dogs so had to set them free to fend for themselves. This combined with a patchy government strategy for dealing with dogs means that there are a lot of strays around here. Really a lot.
For the past couple of months we've been sort of looking after one of them. Or, more accurately, she sort of attached herself to us, and we couldn't resist her. It's difficult to say what sort of dog she was, bit of German Shepherd certainly, but finer featured and not as big. Either way, she was a real gem of a dog. Calm, even tempered and ever so sweet she played hard with Jess and was calm with the boys. We wormed, ticked and flea-ed her, fed her some proper food and she began to shine. If we went to the shops she would come too, just touching our hands with her nose to let us know that she was there, then she'd wait patiently outside the shop for us to come out before trotting back proudly and beautifully to heel.
She won our confidence over time and I began to trust her. She was allowed to come inside the house in the evenings, but still slept outside. A couple of times we asked if she wanted to get in the car to come for a walk with us, but she didn't fancy that idea much, preferring to do her own thing during the day.
She could get in and out of the garden at will and settled into a routine of heading off to do whatever it is that dogs do in the morning and coming back in the afternoon. Occasionally I'd come across her on the other side of town (having crossed at least 2 major roads to get there). She'd come over to say hello, but again wouldn't want a lift in the car so we'd go our separate ways and she'd come back later that day in time for supper. We tried to block the escape route up, but she would just take it down again, not really wanting to be totally domesticated just yet. In many ways she was living the doggy dream, a house when she wanted it, but also the freedom to do whatever she wanted when she wanted it.
We asked around a bit and the slightly mad, dog obsessed bloke over the road (he of the tendency to put raw bones down the back of his trousers) knew some of her history. He remembered her litter, estimating that she was about 15 months old and had spent her life on the streets. No one owned her or was responsible for her, but he had christened her Belle, so Belle she remained.
We began to talk seriously about whether we were going to adopt her or not. Taking her back to Britain would be no mean feat, Jess is fully PETS passported up, but to get a stray dog onto the scheme would cost a fair bit of money and take a lot of time. We'd have to do things like Fed-Ex blood samples to the UK, that type of thing. But Dave went out one evening with both dogs, neither on the lead, and one stayed to heel the entire way whilst the other expensive pedigree dog that has had years of training had to be hauled out of the neighbours bins at least twice. We weren't sure about having 2 largish dogs in the house, but she was winning us over.
We haven't seen her for over a week now. This is very unusual, she was always one to be back in time for supper. The weather is cold and snowing, she would be looking for some warmth if she could. Maybe she'll turn up one evening looking for a treat, but I doubt it. She may have been hit by a car, the hunters that are occasionally employed to curtail the stray population may have got her. Possibly she found another family to take her in, maybe she just decided to hang out in a pack rather than with some humans. We don't know what has happened to her, probably never will.
I do miss her. Belle. I hope that you'll be back soon, tonight maybe? I desperately hope so, but deep down I doubt it; I think if you could have come back, you'd have been back by now. I hope you are warm and safe somewhere. But most of all I hope you enjoyed your time with us, I hope we made a difference to you. We will never forget you.
Showing posts with label dogs in bosnia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dogs in bosnia. Show all posts
Monday, 14 December 2009
Thursday, 9 April 2009
Who'd be a dog in Tuzla?
Up in Ilincica, the hills behind Tuzla, are some lovely walks and a restaurant. I've become quite friendly with the owner, who thinks that my daily walks up there with 2 small boys and a dog are quite bizarre but forgives us because we are English and therefore a bit odd.
As we parked up there the other day I noticed a bundle of fur by the side of the road and sure enough there were 3 bewildered rather frightened puppies. They were tiny, cannot have been more than 6 weeks or so old and certainly not old enough to be taken away from their mother. I asked the restaurateur where they had come from. 'A car came by about 5 minutes ago' he said 'they threw them out of the car'. I looked at the puppies again, a boy and 2 girls, one of whom had obviously got a broken leg.
I took my motley crew for a walk whilst I considered the options. Adam was very curious. Where did the puppies come from Mummy? Why don't they have a Mummy? Who is going to look after them? Why did the man throw them out of the car? I could feel myself getting angrier and angrier at the way in which some Bosnians treat their animals. How could they abandon these dogs like this? Luke was enchanted by them, and kept trying to return to them.
It became obvious - I couldn't leave them there. They would die, and slowly and painfully. I'd heard rumours that there was a dog home in Tuzla, something I didn't know about in previous episodes with abandoned puppies. We would take the puppies and we would find this dog home. It would be our afternoons adventure. The boys were thrilled.
When we got back to the car there were only 2 puppies. The restaurateur confirmed that the one with the broken leg had died, which I wasn't surprised about. So we found a box, put the puppies in the back, gave them some bread (all I had in the car), and set off. They were as good as gold. Not a whine, cry or whimper. Up the hills we went pursuing leads, on tracks which were definitely intended for a 4x4 and our Ford Mondeo estate was skidding around all over the place. I was rather scared (driving is not my forte) but in the end encouraged on by my 2 Lewis Hamiltons in the back, we crawled up a hill and there it was. The dog home for Tuzla. Battersea Dogs Home it was not. But it was a dog home and it was somewhere that these puppies might be cared for*.
I found the owner who was not keen. The home is for adult dogs only. For a moment I started to panic. I'd taken on these puppies, there was no way I could abandon them now. But they obviously had an element of German Shepherd in them and were going to be big dogs. Adopting 2 strays would not be a way to make my life easier. I have heard incidences of people adopting a Bosnian stray and for it to be a real success. But on the other hand a friend of mine took on a puppy from Sarajevo and he what could be termed a real handful, chases and kills chickens, sheep, cats, anything that moves. No, I really couldn't take on any more dogs.
With a combination of deliberate non-understanding of the I will not take these dogs phrases, consistent presenting of these two tiny, shivering, adorable pups and repeating the story that they had been thrown out of the car, as well as promises to get in touch with a journalist friend in Tuzla to see if we could get some more exposure for the shelter, I persuaded her to take them.
I'm going to head back up there on Sunday to take some food for the dogs. It will be a drop in the ocean, there are at least 350 dogs there, but every little helps. She told me she has very little help, very little money and doesn't know what to do. This being Bosnia I've heard other stories from other people including that she had a link with a Dutch organisation who gave money but it disappeared. Certainly, the shelter is a long way off the standards that would be required to call it humane. But it is there, and that is a whole lot better for these 350 dogs and 2 puppies than facing the hunters.
******
*Adam over at Balkan File had a post recently including some pictures about a similar dog home just outside of Belgrade in Serbia. There he gives a contact for anyone wanting to contribute towards the running of the home. I'd love to do something for this dogs home, but there is obviously some back story that I'm unaware of. If anyone has an idea about how to help please leave me a comment!
As we parked up there the other day I noticed a bundle of fur by the side of the road and sure enough there were 3 bewildered rather frightened puppies. They were tiny, cannot have been more than 6 weeks or so old and certainly not old enough to be taken away from their mother. I asked the restaurateur where they had come from. 'A car came by about 5 minutes ago' he said 'they threw them out of the car'. I looked at the puppies again, a boy and 2 girls, one of whom had obviously got a broken leg.
I took my motley crew for a walk whilst I considered the options. Adam was very curious. Where did the puppies come from Mummy? Why don't they have a Mummy? Who is going to look after them? Why did the man throw them out of the car? I could feel myself getting angrier and angrier at the way in which some Bosnians treat their animals. How could they abandon these dogs like this? Luke was enchanted by them, and kept trying to return to them.
It became obvious - I couldn't leave them there. They would die, and slowly and painfully. I'd heard rumours that there was a dog home in Tuzla, something I didn't know about in previous episodes with abandoned puppies. We would take the puppies and we would find this dog home. It would be our afternoons adventure. The boys were thrilled.
When we got back to the car there were only 2 puppies. The restaurateur confirmed that the one with the broken leg had died, which I wasn't surprised about. So we found a box, put the puppies in the back, gave them some bread (all I had in the car), and set off. They were as good as gold. Not a whine, cry or whimper. Up the hills we went pursuing leads, on tracks which were definitely intended for a 4x4 and our Ford Mondeo estate was skidding around all over the place. I was rather scared (driving is not my forte) but in the end encouraged on by my 2 Lewis Hamiltons in the back, we crawled up a hill and there it was. The dog home for Tuzla. Battersea Dogs Home it was not. But it was a dog home and it was somewhere that these puppies might be cared for*.
I found the owner who was not keen. The home is for adult dogs only. For a moment I started to panic. I'd taken on these puppies, there was no way I could abandon them now. But they obviously had an element of German Shepherd in them and were going to be big dogs. Adopting 2 strays would not be a way to make my life easier. I have heard incidences of people adopting a Bosnian stray and for it to be a real success. But on the other hand a friend of mine took on a puppy from Sarajevo and he what could be termed a real handful, chases and kills chickens, sheep, cats, anything that moves. No, I really couldn't take on any more dogs.
With a combination of deliberate non-understanding of the I will not take these dogs phrases, consistent presenting of these two tiny, shivering, adorable pups and repeating the story that they had been thrown out of the car, as well as promises to get in touch with a journalist friend in Tuzla to see if we could get some more exposure for the shelter, I persuaded her to take them.
I'm going to head back up there on Sunday to take some food for the dogs. It will be a drop in the ocean, there are at least 350 dogs there, but every little helps. She told me she has very little help, very little money and doesn't know what to do. This being Bosnia I've heard other stories from other people including that she had a link with a Dutch organisation who gave money but it disappeared. Certainly, the shelter is a long way off the standards that would be required to call it humane. But it is there, and that is a whole lot better for these 350 dogs and 2 puppies than facing the hunters.
******
*Adam over at Balkan File had a post recently including some pictures about a similar dog home just outside of Belgrade in Serbia. There he gives a contact for anyone wanting to contribute towards the running of the home. I'd love to do something for this dogs home, but there is obviously some back story that I'm unaware of. If anyone has an idea about how to help please leave me a comment!
Friday, 27 March 2009
Bosnian strays
The number of stray dogs in Bosnia is a recognised problem. There are a lot. Around Tuzla you occasionally see packs of them, 10 or more, roaming together looking for food. They can be quite frightening, incidents of packs of dogs attacking people in the Balkans is not uncommon (another Balkan blogger Balkan File recently wrote about some dog attacks in Belgrade). The way the Bosnians deal with them vary. Many just ignore them. Others semi-adopt a dog, leaving it food, setting up shelter. Some of the strays are so well fed they will turn up their nose at substandard offerings (note to Jessie, you do not actually have to eat everything that is edible just because it is there). There are so many dogs and puppies that it is difficult not to lose your heart to at least one. Dog Homes are few and far between, and those that are around are poorly funded and unsupported by the government. Susan Johnson's article in Animal Welfare Institute Quarterly tells me that despite many peoples best efforts to persuade governments otherwise, the official government policy to deal with dogs basically consists of the periodic rounding up of the strays and killing them.
We often go up to the hills behind Tuzla, to the woods of Illincica to walk with the boys and Jess. There are a couple of strays who live up there and we've sort of made friends with them. One had puppies back in October and three of them survived the coldest part of the winter. Everytime we saw them, they seemed well fed, sociable dogs always pleased to see new people but not so confident as to be a pain. I had a particular soft spot for one of the puppies, a lovely, shy, leggy lady always wanting to please.
As Jess has been recovering from Lyme's Disease, we hadn't been up to Illincica for a while. This week, the snow melted, the sun came out so we ventured back up there. I didn't see the dogs. So I asked the owner of a restaurant up there where they were. The hunters came, he said. I told them not to, but they shot them anyway.
Sometimes I find this country very difficult to deal with.
We often go up to the hills behind Tuzla, to the woods of Illincica to walk with the boys and Jess. There are a couple of strays who live up there and we've sort of made friends with them. One had puppies back in October and three of them survived the coldest part of the winter. Everytime we saw them, they seemed well fed, sociable dogs always pleased to see new people but not so confident as to be a pain. I had a particular soft spot for one of the puppies, a lovely, shy, leggy lady always wanting to please.
As Jess has been recovering from Lyme's Disease, we hadn't been up to Illincica for a while. This week, the snow melted, the sun came out so we ventured back up there. I didn't see the dogs. So I asked the owner of a restaurant up there where they were. The hunters came, he said. I told them not to, but they shot them anyway.
Sometimes I find this country very difficult to deal with.
Monday, 16 March 2009
A Fat Dog
Two trips to the vets later and it looks as if we have managed to stop the Lyme Disease in its tracks. We caught it early and Jessie is now bouncing around, has yellow pee and all is on the mend.
However, the vet did stick Jess on the scales and we have discovered that she now weighs 6kg more than she did in August when we arrived. A whole 6kg (that is approaching 14 lbs for the less metric minded amongst you). This is a whole lot of weight on a dog.
We knew that she was getting fatter, and were not surprised. In the UK she would usually get 2 hours of walking every day. Here she gets just one; the walks are not as energetic and she seldom meets a dog who wants to play which is the best from of doggie exercise out there. We had been restricting her food accordingly, giving her very few scraps or little extra doggie treats.
To our great surprise she carried on getting fatter. We really restricted her food, the recommended amount for a dog was 400g a day, Jessie has been getting 260g. But still the weight was piling on.
The trip to the vet clinched it for us so we went out and truly investigated what she was up to when she was sniffing around in the garden. And the results surprised us.
Jessie has developed her own network of friends. Many of them buy food for her and toss it into the garden for her 'second breakfast', 'post lunch snack', 'post post lunch snack' etc. One woman was buying her a LOAF of bread every day - I couldn't help feeling that really her 1km per day could be a lot better spent than feeding our overfed mutt, but each to their own. Our neighbours have been throwing scraps out of their window for her, which includes a small mountain of potatoes, extra meat and the odd vegetable. Jess isn't fussy, she hoovered up the lot.
I talked to everyone I could. I explained that the vet had told us off because she was fat, fat retrievers are much more likely to get arthritis and could they please, please stop feeding our dog. She would love them just as much as she did before, honest. She might even stop barking at the neighbours window to get them to give her food.
On the whole most people agreed. One neighbour though looked pained. And asked if he could just carry on feeding her one thing. And he held up an enormous jar of boiled sweets bought just for her.
No wonder she is on the podgy side. The diet is on.
However, the vet did stick Jess on the scales and we have discovered that she now weighs 6kg more than she did in August when we arrived. A whole 6kg (that is approaching 14 lbs for the less metric minded amongst you). This is a whole lot of weight on a dog.
We knew that she was getting fatter, and were not surprised. In the UK she would usually get 2 hours of walking every day. Here she gets just one; the walks are not as energetic and she seldom meets a dog who wants to play which is the best from of doggie exercise out there. We had been restricting her food accordingly, giving her very few scraps or little extra doggie treats.
To our great surprise she carried on getting fatter. We really restricted her food, the recommended amount for a dog was 400g a day, Jessie has been getting 260g. But still the weight was piling on.
The trip to the vet clinched it for us so we went out and truly investigated what she was up to when she was sniffing around in the garden. And the results surprised us.
Jessie has developed her own network of friends. Many of them buy food for her and toss it into the garden for her 'second breakfast', 'post lunch snack', 'post post lunch snack' etc. One woman was buying her a LOAF of bread every day - I couldn't help feeling that really her 1km per day could be a lot better spent than feeding our overfed mutt, but each to their own. Our neighbours have been throwing scraps out of their window for her, which includes a small mountain of potatoes, extra meat and the odd vegetable. Jess isn't fussy, she hoovered up the lot.
I talked to everyone I could. I explained that the vet had told us off because she was fat, fat retrievers are much more likely to get arthritis and could they please, please stop feeding our dog. She would love them just as much as she did before, honest. She might even stop barking at the neighbours window to get them to give her food.
On the whole most people agreed. One neighbour though looked pained. And asked if he could just carry on feeding her one thing. And he held up an enormous jar of boiled sweets bought just for her.
No wonder she is on the podgy side. The diet is on.
Tuesday, 10 February 2009
Ticked Off
While Britain has been merrily collapsing under the weight of 3cm of snow, Tuzla has seen some unexpectedly warm weather. The temperatures have been about 20C and we've been quite warm enough in just a jacket. Snow seems like a million miles away. Battles with the boys about wearing their gloves seem like a different lifetime. When it gets warmer, it gets hard to imagine that only a few weeks ago we were ensconced in snow and ice.
The return of warmer weather is not all good news though. We had been enjoying a bit of a break in the attack of the ticks on Jessie since it has been cold, but we found one on her last night. We get less stressed about it now, we have a nifty tick removal implement which gets them critters out, then the blood thirsty, revolting sucker is left to die in a glass of slivovica which does the trick. It does mean that we have to be careful with the boys running through the undergrowth though and is a reminder that even during the summer we will have to walk with long trousers and boots to stop the odious things attaching themselves to us.
In the meantime, the temperature has done that Tuzla thing and dropped from 20C to freezing overnight. May the cold snap get rid of them all.
The return of warmer weather is not all good news though. We had been enjoying a bit of a break in the attack of the ticks on Jessie since it has been cold, but we found one on her last night. We get less stressed about it now, we have a nifty tick removal implement which gets them critters out, then the blood thirsty, revolting sucker is left to die in a glass of slivovica which does the trick. It does mean that we have to be careful with the boys running through the undergrowth though and is a reminder that even during the summer we will have to walk with long trousers and boots to stop the odious things attaching themselves to us.
In the meantime, the temperature has done that Tuzla thing and dropped from 20C to freezing overnight. May the cold snap get rid of them all.
Monday, 8 September 2008
little pup
Dogs in Bosnia have a different life to one in the UK. There are an enormous number of strays which people often leave food and water out for. These strays have a difficult life and most are young dogs or puppies. Many of them are absolutely lovely dogs. D has a theory that only the nice ones survive as people wouldn't tolerate an aggressive stray for long. The dogs roam all over the place, often on the roads and are often hit by cars.
We were in a car on Sunday which accidentally hit a young stray puppy. I'd seen the puppy earlier, it had bounced over to come and see how we were doing. Probably some form of Alsatian cross she was around 8 weeks and so friendly. I'd entertained a very brief flirtation with the idea of taking her back home and allowing her to become our 'outside' dog, but it was only very brief - with young children who are used to abusing a golden retriever, I would have to be very sure of the temperament of a dog before taking one on.
We weren't driving and those who were didn't stop to see if the dog was ok. As we drove off all I could hear were the howls of pain and through the back window I could see that she had obviously broken a leg.
This image haunted me all night, and we drove back today to see how she was doing. She had crawled under a bench and was in pain. I took her home, gave her a drink, fed her and took her to the vets to be put down. Fortunately the vet confirmed that there was very little he could do for her - I was dreading having to make a decision about whether to give her treatment or not. We took her away and buried her in a friend's field in a beautiful spot overlooking a valley.
Adam had quite got into the puppy and I wasn't ready to talk to Adam about death. He kept asking about 'the little dog' and couldn't quite understand why she had been buried or why the vet couldn't make her better. We didn't shy away from saying that she had died, but he could only really comprehend it in terms of going to sleep for ever - never waking up. Even then he is convinced that we can come back next week and she'll be ready to play. How people ever explain it when it is something closer to them than a stray dog I have no idea.
Now, I know that in the greater scheme of things this is not a great tragedy. She would have gone under a car sooner rather than later and putting her down was the kindest thing that we could have done for her. That hasn't stopped me howling ever since.
We were in a car on Sunday which accidentally hit a young stray puppy. I'd seen the puppy earlier, it had bounced over to come and see how we were doing. Probably some form of Alsatian cross she was around 8 weeks and so friendly. I'd entertained a very brief flirtation with the idea of taking her back home and allowing her to become our 'outside' dog, but it was only very brief - with young children who are used to abusing a golden retriever, I would have to be very sure of the temperament of a dog before taking one on.
We weren't driving and those who were didn't stop to see if the dog was ok. As we drove off all I could hear were the howls of pain and through the back window I could see that she had obviously broken a leg.
This image haunted me all night, and we drove back today to see how she was doing. She had crawled under a bench and was in pain. I took her home, gave her a drink, fed her and took her to the vets to be put down. Fortunately the vet confirmed that there was very little he could do for her - I was dreading having to make a decision about whether to give her treatment or not. We took her away and buried her in a friend's field in a beautiful spot overlooking a valley.
Adam had quite got into the puppy and I wasn't ready to talk to Adam about death. He kept asking about 'the little dog' and couldn't quite understand why she had been buried or why the vet couldn't make her better. We didn't shy away from saying that she had died, but he could only really comprehend it in terms of going to sleep for ever - never waking up. Even then he is convinced that we can come back next week and she'll be ready to play. How people ever explain it when it is something closer to them than a stray dog I have no idea.
Now, I know that in the greater scheme of things this is not a great tragedy. She would have gone under a car sooner rather than later and putting her down was the kindest thing that we could have done for her. That hasn't stopped me howling ever since.
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