Tag: Life

I have a dilemma. It’s about rescue dogs, although it could be about rescue cats, rabbits, monkeys, rats or mice. In fact it could be any animal which has been rescued from harm, cruelty or abuse either in an abusive location, a “testing” facility or one of those dreadful meat farms or bear bile farms. I am not thinking particularly about furs that have been voluntarily surrendered for instance due to illness or change in circumstances where there are no nefarious activities suspected or perpetuated.

Most people are aware that furs can be, unfortunately, abused. We are physically and mentally traumatised and often times discarded and left for dead in all sorts of places. My fur cousin Minnie, for instance, was found tied to a tree in the middle of Epping Forest in Essex. Thankfully she was spotted, rescued and now lives a wonderful life with love and fun surrounding her. She is a lucky one.

My brother Lenny was rescued from Cyprus by the wonderful ladies of Cyprus Beagles who sent him to the UK and he is now also loved very much, despite his tendency to bite me regularly. We don’t know how he was treated before he was rescued. We think he was initially going to be a hunting dog but either escaped or was deemed unsuitable so was just discarded. He doesn’t seem to have any irrational fears although he does bark at people on bicycles as well as people who carry rucksacks.

Anyway onto the point of all this. There was a video on one of the accounts I follow on Twitter. I watched a little pup being rescued from the middle of a waste water system, possibly somewhere on the West Coast of North America. The little chap was emaciated, frightened, mangey, had discharge from one of his eyes and generally looked pretty beaten up. The kind people rescued him, took him to the vet and when they took x-rays it looked like he had also been shot with a pellet gun. The vet fixed him up, the people gave him plenty of baths, cleaned his eyes, fed him and generally gave him love and cuddles. He’s now in a happy home. Many people commented on the post, expressing their sadness, their anger and asking if the little chap was now ok. The comment that made me wonder was “I just fast forwarded to the ending”.

Herein lies my dilemma. If people know about the abuse, and they see how it happened even without the graphic part of the actual abuse, are they in a better position to do something about it? If people “know of” the abuse and avoid actually seeing the condition and trauma of the relevant dog before the good bit at the end, are they doing themselves and the dog somewhat of a dis-service? I don’t mean that in a horrible way as I know that there are people who do not like seeing violence or injuries inflicted upon humans or animals . I completely understand that. Let’s be honest it isn’t very pleasant.

Some of the videos floating around the internet just cheapen and glorify the terrible condition of the fur involved. Other videos show the triumph over initial adversity suffered by the person or fur which usually makes our hearts sing and we feel happy. But without seeing the initial adversity, how do we know what has happened in each instance and thereby invoke our rage, fear or concern? I suppose I am wondering if people are aware of the abuse or if there is a perception that abuse happens so it must be bad and “I don’t need to see it”. Maybe people have seen it and been so upset by it, they don’t want to see it again. All are valid and completely understandable.

I know I am going on a bit however I would like to give one example. Beagles in laboratories. Pretty much everyone knows that some of my beagle brothers and sisters are routinely tested on for all sorts of “reasons” from making us inhale stuff, to squirting stuff in our eyes, burning us to test creams and lotions and testing our vital organs whilst we are conscious. All pretty awful and I am thankful that I was not a laboratory beagle. However what people don’t usually know is that, in some facilities, they cut our vocal cords to stop us crying out in pain when they’re doing these experiments upon us. Not all places but some certainly use this practice. There are companies that breed us specifically for use within a laboratory environment, with beagles living in wire cages and never seeing grass, smelling fresh air or running around playing. At the end of our useful life often we are killed. I could say euthanised but that puts a pretty glow on it for me. Do people actually know what goes on in these terrible places?

I am not sure if I have explained what I really feel in this blog. There isn’t really an answer to this conundrum for me. I apologise if I upset people by bringing up a sad and horrible subject. I shall go back to watching over Lenny to make sure he is safe and loved.

A cautionary tale today pals.

If you are out on patrol and are lucky enough to be able to stroll through fields and woods, please ask your parents to check you for ticks when you return home. I was found to have a passenger attached to my neck and, for once, it wasn’t Lenny. They saw what seemed to be a cyst shaped object poking through my fur just below my collar. At first they thought “Oh he’s 10 or so and we need to be aware of various lumps and bumps”. It was only once my parents looked it up on the wonder that is the internet and saw it was actually a yucky tick that they were concerned. They spoke briefly to the emergency vet who said to speak to our local vet practice this morning.

The little blighter fell off during the night and was found sleeping soundly upside down in my bed. Duly scooped up and put in a jar for posterity (or destruction) the tick is now history. I woofed with the vet lady this morning who saw my x-rays, also know as some pawparazzi pictures, and said that I should be ok. However my parents need to keep an eye on me as ticks can be carriers of all sorts of really nasty diseases and may even be fatal.

Enjoy your walks pals and people, but please be careful and vigilant of nasty little bugs and critters attaching themselves to your fur and often trying to drink your blood in the process.

Tick tock, your time has come, nasty tick critter. Time for you to leave me alone.

The world seems rife with struggles, fear and general antagonism between too many people at the moment.

As a dog, and a much loved and cosseted one, I am aware that I may not be in the direct line of many troubles which affect and afflict humans. This includes my parents who always try to keep Lenny and I safe and happy. For this they receive our love, and often we manage to lick their hands when they are giving us belly rubs or attending to our every need and whim. Apparently licking them isn’t very hygienic as they “know where our tongues have been and eating bits of dead rabbit is disgusting”.

Anyway I am not going to lurch into a diatribe bemoaning one thing or another. I merely wish to woof the following request.

Be more beagle please. Stay safe and try to get along. Be pleasant to each other and if you cannot, then don’t say or do anything to be nasty. Have fun and enjoy your lives. You only get one shot at this “life” game, so would it not be better to depart from this mortal coil with some degree of fulfilment in your heart? In the grand scheme of things, we are all tiny specks in a massive galaxy. To our friends and loved ones, we are very important and they rely on us to be there for them.

Here are some pictures of flowers in my garden, they cheer me up and I hope they make you feel a bit happier.

My nan would say “If you cannot say something nice or sensible, then say nothing at all”. I love my nan.

I went through a stage where I was being ill, or injuring myself with fair regularity. Maybe I should deal with the ailments individually, starting with the illness.

No one knows really if I was eating all the wrong things, or if I was picking up germs around the walks I was taking, but there were quite a few times when the vets was nearly called, but avoided – just.

Early in my tenure here I must have eaten something rotten and was ill. It made me feel loved that mum sat up all night with me to make sure that I didn’t come to more harm. She looked very tired in the morning and I felt really sorry for her, but she was looking after me and the bond seemed to be growing. Sometimes I felt that I was upsetting her as I was ill so often. Another time I had been ill for 2 or 3 days in a row and I heard the conversation saying “Yes of course we can bring him in, if you can have a look at him as we are a bit worried by the continued illness”. When I arrived at the vets the nice lady looked at me and said that I had a bug and that I needed to be put on a diet for a while. This meant that the bug would pass and I could get back out into the fields more quickly. So I was pleased to find out that I was on chicken and rice for a few days. It was very tasty, but there wasn’t much of it which was a shame as I was really hungry. I was getting fed more times a day, but I was still on meagre rations. After a couple of days I felt like it would never end, and I feared I would be on small rations for a long time. A few days later however I noticed the portions got a little larger, but they still weren’t normal. I was only going out in the garden, not my longer walks out in the streets and fields like I had been used to. Gradually the food got back to normal, and I wasn’t being watched all the time and then it happened, I was back out on longer walks outside the house. Phew. Apparently I was eating all the wrong things in the fields and lanes, sniffing all the gross objects which lay before me and generally treated the animal waste recycling biodiverse product as a smorgasbord. Who knew?

Injuries are the next subject. I have done all sorts of stupid things to myself, usually when I broke free and whizzed around like a racing snake. I have had the usual array of sprains and strains to my ankles and knees.

This story is from September 2015. My biggest trip to the vet took place after we had been out one day in the fields. There was an awful lot of sniffing and investigation to be done. It was summer, it was nice and warm. I was allowing mum to accompany me in exploring the area. I was starting to learn things such as chasing and eating bees isn’t the best thing to do. I got told off and tried to stop catching them but they whizzed about and were too tempting. Anyway all the plants were growing and the the grass and nettles were really tall. I didn’t know that nettles stung like bees. I just marched through the fields. When we got home mum noticed that I had a big mark on my pad, and it looked like something had got into my foot. Of course I decided that the best thing would be to chew and nibble my paw, as this would obviously make it better. I am a boy so don’t be surprised at some of the things I manage to do.

Mum and dad watched me for a couple of days as I was limping, sometimes quite a lot and often I couldn’t put my paw down, it was so painful. So a trip to the vets was arranged and the nice vet lady looked at my paw and said she thought I might have a grass seed in there. This made mum and dad look at each other with a bit of worry, as this can be quite bad and I may need an operation if it was true. I didn’t really understand what this ‘operation” meant, but I heard them all agree I would need to come back to the vets and fairly soon. So I went home and nothing really changed, apart from me having to wear a Cone of Shame to stop me nibbling at the paw and making it worse. I was given some antibiotics as they thought this might help draw the seed out of my paw. Strangely they couldn’t see the puncture where it had gone in. About a week passed, I went back to the vets and they still couldn’t find anything like a hole or wound in my paw, and then wondered if I have trodden on something that was caustic and burned my paw. In any case, it wasn’t getting better so it was decided that an operation would go ahead.

A couple of days later I was surprised when I wasn’t allowed to have any breakfast. My tummy was rumbling and I had been out for a walk, so this was different as I usually returned from my walk and ate my breakfast. We went to see the vet early in the morning and when mum and dad left me there I was quite sad. I didn’t know what was happening. However the nurses were very nice and I was being looked after and fussed over when all of a sudden I felt very sleepy. The next thing I knew, I was waking up under a big blanket, feeling a bit groggy, and with a huge bandage on my paw. Best of all, it had bones on it, but I knew that I couldn’t eat these bones as they were on the outside of my leg.

I was allowed to go home at the end of the day and it was very exciting, despite having to wear a bag on my paw. I didn’t realise that I had to keep the paw clean. The Cone of Shame made an unfortunate reappearance.

The first night post-op just drifted by and I didn’t really know if I was coming or going to be honest. Then days went by, and I was getting used to the Cone of Shame, which was surprising as it was seriously hampering my ability to hunt in the garden. The pigeons and squirrels could see me coming from miles away. It was like having a neon sign attached to me. Inside the house however the cone of shame was very useful as I could bash into mum and dad when I wanted some extra food, or to lay on the sofa as I was ever so poorly. Every time I went outside the house, I had to wear the plastic bag over my damaged paw to make sure it was dry. We went back to the vets a couple of times in the first week as I needed my bandage changed to make sure I didn’t get an infection. The nurse was very happy that I had been a good boy and kept my paw clean, that it wasn’t nibbled and that the cut was healing well. I had proud ears and I got some extra biscuits. Another few days and I could have the bandage off. The bone bandage could be going. I told myself I had to be good, I had to be good. Come on Dex, concentrate!

Another few days passed and it was off to the vets. The bandage is coming off, I was so happy that I just laid there and let them cut the bandage off. I was getting my paw back. The bandage was sliced off, my paw felt free and I had an itch, I could see the stitches and decided that I couldn’t wait. As soon as the vet nurse and mum and dad turned their backs, I managed to chew two of the stitches out. When everyone turned round and saw what I had done they were initially upset but then saw the cut was closed and there was only one stitch left, so that was snipped off and I was free. Or so I thought. The plastic bag went back on, the paw had to be kept clean. This wasn’t fair. Did no one realise that it is really difficult to chase squirrels with a bag on my paw? The pigeons and squirrels were laughing at me. And I wasn’t allowed off the lead in the garden for what seemed like weeks. What had I done to deserve this extra punishment.

I had to put up with the bag and Cone of Shame for ages. I was better but I didn’t want to go through another operation. It severely hampered by ability to pursue squirrels in my grounds, and that would never do. I resolved to get rid of the Cone of Shame and Plastic Bag of Impediment as soon as possible. I had to be good, I had to. This was so difficult. I was going to have to put up with the shame of the squirrels and pigeons laughing at me for what felt like an eternity. I would be back though, faster and cleverer, I promise. Watch out tree dwellers.

I’ve been watching my brother recently. Usually it is because he is about to bite my neck, ankles or ears. I think he thinks he is a vampire. He certainly acts like one so we decided to call him Count Barkula when he is on nefarious activities. We had heard the phrase and thought it fitted him perfectly. The neck chomping aside I have also been looking at how he has changed since he’s been here and I keep on wondering if he and I are really the same breed. We are such different personalities that sometimes its quite stark. Please allow me to try and explain.

I am a wild eyed hunter hound in the garden and fields. If I smell a squirrel or fox in the next county I will be onto the trail relentlessly and will not give up. I can be in the garden at six a.m and there will be a trail from the previous night. Sometimes it may only be a pigeon. Often it can take me thirty or forty minutes to stop baying and tracking. My breakfast is more often than not cold by the time I am finished. Compare this to Lenny. He can be in the garden with me, will see the same pigeon and he just watches it. He may start to stalk it, give a half hearted chase and then go back to eating grass and flower heads. We can start on the same trail and he will look at me like I am a dog possessed, as I am still scenting even when the trail goes cold. Equally he sees a deer in the fields and he will bay and pull on the lead trying to get to it. Once it moves and he realises he cannot catch it, he quickly stops and walks along sniffing at the edge of the crop. If I see the deer in the fields, I will try to pursue it as if my very life depended on catching the creature. Whichever human I am attached to at the time is lucky if they escape with their arms still in the shoulder sockets. If we happen to be on a downward slope at the time, its like skiing apparently. The only creature that provokes a similar reaction for us both is a rabbit. We found out that beagles are hard wired to pursue hares in Cyprus so we think this is where his wild eyed crazed pursuit comes from. For my part, I have no excuses, I just want to get the creature as quickly as possible. I do feel like my training regime of rufty tufty pursuit of all things fluffy and feathery is going to waste on Lenny sometimes.

We are allowed out into the garden at all times of the day. One of the best times for scents is just before we go to bed, as we haven’t been outside for a while and any scent trails are fresh. In the evening we are supposed to be doing “our thing” before going to bed but, if a trail is newly laid, I can completely forget what I went out there for and it is a good twenty to thirty minutes of baying. Lenny will give the initial chase, see that there isn’t actually anything there any more and then go and do what he needs to. I am seemingly hard wired to chase and pursue until all scent avenues are exhausted.

This last week or so I have heard the door to the garden being quietly opened to let Lenny out around dinner time, whilst I have been snoozing in my bed. Mum and dad are pretty sneaky in that they try to cover the sound of the door being opened by cooking or hoovering. Earlier this week I saw Lenny in the garden and he was sitting next to the little birdbath we have. There was a pigeon sitting about 6 feet away and they were just looking at one another. Neither the pigeon nor Lenny moved. Both just looked at each other. Then they wandered off, Lenny did his effort at a half hearted chase and the pigeon fluttered away to safety. This is a somewhat worrying development for my training programme with him. Mum and dad are apparently proud of him as he is calmer than I am when he goes out into the garden and doesn’t pull as much as I do, or I did, when we are out on patrol in the lanes and fields.

In another way we are very different. I tend to walk past “animal biodiverse recycled product” in lanes and fields. I may sniff and then move on. Lenny however seems to think that most of it as a supplement for his meals. On at least two occasions recently, he has needed to have items removed from his mouth. The removal has left dad sometimes bemoaning the fact that Lenny eats everything that is truly disgusting. We know that he loves Lenny but I don’t blame dad for getting a bit irate at the continual chewing of certain revolting items. I have to admit though it does make me laugh to see dad’s face when he is pulling stuff out of Lenny’s teeth with his bare fingers. I have never been partial to extra curricular non-food items as far as I can remember. Lenny’s predilection to disgusting items may be due to him being a street dog for a short time in Cyprus and therefore having to scavenge anything and everything. On a slightly lighter and cleaner note, Lenny does liks vegetables. I can eat vegetables if they are surrounded by chicken or turkey for my breakfast and dinner. Lenny however is quite happy to sit and wait for various pieces of vegetables to fall onto the floor whilst they are being prepared for our parents food. He will even have the potato peelings, and particularly enjoys carrot peelings. Strange boy is my little brofur.

And today my entire commentary on this blog was blown to smithereens. At 7.05 BST precisely, Lenny went into wild eyed loon mode when he saw 2 Muntjack deer crossing our paths in one of the fields. We were baying for Britain as we pulled our respective parents along. Even after we had crossed their trail we were puffing and panting like the steam trains you see the old films we all know and love. To see him in full cry made my little heart sing. Well it would have done if I hadn’t also been in full cry.

Maybe I have misjudged him and my rufty tufty training is sinking in. I’m off to teach him more stuff.

I was going to do a blog today full of worry, concern and generally feeling a bit down about the current situation that the world finds itself engulfed in. However I thought again and remembered that I try to be a positive chap so here we go.

In the midst of this terrible pandemic sweeping across the globe (I suppose that’s why it’s called a pandemic) I have been taking my regulation one walk a day, usually with a (still) Covid free human attached to me for my safety. It has been so quiet without cars, trucks and school run parents whilst I have been scenting rabbits, deer, foxes and squirrels that it got me thinking about things. So feel free to join me on another ramble.

If this pandemic has shown me anything currently, it is that people have been required to change their outlook on life. To somewhat reassess their future I suppose. It’s an awful thing to think about really. You wake up each morning and wonder if you have the virus, if someone you know has it, if you’re going to get it and how serious will it be if you do get it. As a dog I cannot contract it, apparently, unless I have been overly petted by an infected human. I should be alright as the most I seem to get is a tickle on the ears and told I am a good lad.

On the first weekend of the quarantine in the UK there seemed to be quite a few people who were enjoying the warm sunshine and congregating really rather too close to one another. Despite official advice to stay at home country roads were blocked with cars and vans. People were strolling along the seaside with ice creams, barbecues were lit, beer was drunk, picnics had and parties were enjoyed. It seems that as a result of quite a few people not listening to the advice, the quarantine regulations were increased. At this point I would confess that I don’t like the word “lockdown” as it alludes to a prison type scenario and we aren’t at that stage yet. So people are now being told what they can, and cannot, do and it seems to have worked a bit better in the subsequent weeks. Hopefully this continues and this curve flattens in the shortest period of time. Otherwise there will be a very large number of people who will become extremely bored if they have to stay in for an overly extended period of time.

Anyway, back to my walk. It has been markedly quieter. I put this down to lack of planes in the sky, fewer cars doing the school run and a generally lower number of people going to work by tube, bus, car and train to their workplace. The pollution seems lower too. It may not be lower, but it seems that way. More people are carrying on their daily life either on the computer or via video link, messaging or just plain old telephone calls. I suppose I am lucky that I live near, and know of, sufficient open spaces that I can wander and ponder without bumping into too many people and other dogs. And when I do, I can more than adequately distance myself. I know that there are people who cannot do this, and that is why I don’t take it lightly and I do feel privileged.

Another thing that I wondered about is how will people act or react when this virus is being brought more under control and life begins to get back to some degree of apparent normality. Will people just go straight back to their “old” ways to travel quickly everywhere, push past others in the street, expect everything done yesterday, want their shopping delivered on time and without question all the while ignoring all the people that are currently being lauded as wonderful, brave and superheroes. You know the people, all the healthcare workers from surgeons through to nurses and porters, cleaners, the police, fire service, ambulance crews, delivery drivers, pharmacists, dentists. The list is long and varied and I haven’t included many of the professions. Will all these people still be applauded in three, six or twelve months time. When someone has an accident and needs help, will the police be abused, ambulances damaged, fire crews abused and jeered when they’re putting out blazes. The doctors and nurses who look after the sick and injured when they arrive at hospital, will they need to have a police presence, or security people on the door. When you leave the office of an evening and the cleaners are going through tidying up, will they even elicit a second glance in a years time. I hope they are remembered.

Then I think of the the stories of people finding their local store for provisions which is heartening. The supermarkets seem to have allowed the greedy to triumph over the needy. Shelves cleared when a simple and reasonable solution of limiting the amount of items any one person can buy would have seemed appropriate. Will the smaller local, independent, stores continue to see the new custom once this virus has done with us, I don’t know but I hope so. Also people who had been going out to the pub on fewer occasions suddenly miss the pub now it’s not there. To my beagle mind, the easy answer is to visit the pub when it reopens, acquaint yourself with the beer, chat with friends, enjoy yourself and come back more often, bringing your friends when we are allowed.

So how will this virus change peoples lives once it has been declared as beaten. Maybe the question should just be “will this change peoples lives?”. I do fear that it will not. People will seek to revert to their “old ways”. I hope I am wrong. Maybe I have misjudged the human nature and the aftermath of this virus will give many more people a clearer view of a different future where there is actually some benefit to us all of looking out for each other, instead of seeking to insulate ourselves against approach.

Whatever happens I know I shall be safe and secure. Maybe that sounds awfully pretentious and insular, but it isn’t meant to. I rely on other people, namely my mum and dad, to make sure my life is safe, it has a routine and allows me to enjoy my walks or some food in my bowl, with a snooze in one of my beds to finish off each day. In turn, my mum and dad rely on those people who have been nameless and, I suppose, faceless up to now for all sorts of things like keeping roads and paths tidy, grow and make my food, help me and others stay safe and well as well as most importantly manufacture my beds for my snoozes. So many things that many people have taken for granted before have been exposed as important in the last few months and sometimes I worry that the world will revert to its seemingly greedy, dirty and pretty selfish ways. We shall see. I hope not.

I will get off my soapbox now. Life is for living and I have many adventures to plot and plan for the future. When I am finally allowed to go out, I am going to enjoy myself.

Dex has no idea that I, young Lenny, have taken over his blog so I can wish him a very happy birthday today.

As a rescue no one seems to know his actual date of birth so the parents worked out an approximate date and settled on 4th May. We think he is ten which seems like a lifetime to me, however I hope I reach that milestone. I say “think” as his microchip seems to indicate he was chipped in 2010. However old he may be I have decided I am going to be nice and allow him to win at running around the garden chasing me today.

Even though we aren’t strictly brothers in a biological sense of the word, he is like a big brother to me. He guides me and shows me the way to do most things around the house as well as outside in the big world. For that I am grateful and will always remain grateful to him. He’s also still fairly swift across the garden when bitey face calls so play fighting is also fun.

According to our parents he can be a nuisance, silly and downright stubborn but we all love him very much.

This is him through the years, taken each 4th May since 2014. Like a good wine he’s aged. Well.

Happy birthday Dexter, I am proud ears to live here with you and to look up to you as my older brother.