Fostering is Not For Everyone

Fostering is something that many people think they can do, but the reality is it takes a special kind of person to be able to foster. I have an amazing team in the UK, which is growing, and everyone of them is unique and special.

Not everyone is cut out for fostering, which is fine, but leave the team with your head held high that you gave it a try, not do the typical "lets slag off the rescue on FB" because you could not deal with the reality of what fostering is actually about.

A lady joined the team recently, she was overwhelmed before the transport even begun, but we thought lets give her a chance. I have no idea what she thought fostering involved, and no matter how much you tell people, they never seem to listen.

There is a lot of information to take in, and a lot that needs to be learnt, however, my team are amazing, and are there for each other, and newbies every step of the way. One of the first things we try and teach newbies is I am VERY busy, so if you message me and I don't answer I am either dead, or busy. Therefore, message through our "foster group" there are always lurkers there from the team ready to help.

Nope, she just didn't get it, so message after message came through, and of course, some were ignored, and this caused her to post that I was ignoring her. All newbies foster mums are given as their first foster, what we call "an easy adopt" These are dogs that my grandson could rehome, designed to ease the new foster mum into the role, and to find their feet. All the usual questions were asked before her new foster dog arrived, which was great I want them to be prepared.

Typically this dog decided he had other ideas, and refused to pee on transport, causing him to have a urine infection coming off transport. Now the foster mums have a huge amount of knowledge and often treat things without rushing to the vet. They offered help, advise, and treatments ALL were ignored.

The newbie then begun posting how the dog had to go, her mental health was suffering, it was all too much. Now this dog is the sweetest, most loving dog on the planet, so I really couldn't see what the issue was. She kept posting how no one cared, and he was suffering, yet she had listened to NO ONE on the team.

We organised for him to be moved to another foster home, but as always these things take a few days. So, in the end the foster mum announced she was taking him to the vet, no one said not to, but we did advise that UK vets can sometimes be dramatic.

The day of the vets came, and typically it was an awful day for me, I was rushing my dying dog into the vets, whilst this lady was messaging me demanding money for the vets bill. I asked her to post in our group as I was driving, and stressed.

Oh she posted, a load of rubbish, stating that I had refused to pay the vets bill and that I didn't care. Now, as many of the foster mum's said the one thing I never refuse to do is pay for vets care. The long whingy post went on and on, one of the other foster mums stepped up, paid for the antibiotics, as the foster mum had refused to pay for them.

The wonderful UK vet gave a 5 day course of antibiotics WTF 5 days!!! but as always in the newbies eyes the vet was god I was satan, and she was suddenly a dog expert. When I asked her what the vet had said, she answered I have no idea, you need to call them.

Whilst the newbie was launching a full scale attack on me, I was sat on my vets floor, with my dying dog in my arms, tears rolling down my face. Thank god for my team, as they stepped in, sorted the mess, and left me to pick up the pieces of my heart that were broken all over the floor.

A few days later the dog was moved to another foster home, the newbie was removed from the group, and all was well in the world. Don't be silly of course it wasn't, rather than her going back to her life, she decided to rant on FB how my rescue was disgusting, I neglect my dogs, don't care, send sick dogs, don't pay vets bills.

I commented on her post, stating some FACTS, and as always she blocked me rather than face up to the fact she was lying for effect, and to get the oh poor you's on FB. Got to love people that slag you off, but are not grown up enough to have a discussion about it. She called my UK team useless, said they were little minions, and how none of us cared.

So, if you are considering fostering, remember it is daunting, hard work, and stressful, but it is also incredibly rewarding, and my team are amazing. They not only care about the dogs, but each other, and that is huge. If you decide fostering isn't for you, no worries, but please walk away with your held held high, knowing that you had tried. Don't be a drama llama..... as it just makes you look even worse!

Surprisingly I do In Fact Have a Heart

The last few weeks have been hard, I have not only lost one of my own personal dogs, but a few adopted dogs have died. This is always heart breaking to read, they have amazing homes, and all the love they could ever want, but sadly the universe has other plans for them.

Something that struck me when I was reading all the lovely comments to the adopters, and foster mum's on the post's was no one ever asks If I am ok! Now, my husband does tell people that my heart is on a shelf in a jar in the office, and that there is simply a lump of rock in my chest!

Is that what people really think? that I don't feel the same grief, or hurt just as much as adopters and foster mums? For me loosing a dog at any stage is heart breaking, I sit I shed a tear, I sometimes even ugly cry, yet it seems that people either think that I don't care, or that I'm made of stone.

I had a heated discussion with a person about this subject recently, as a dog she had been looking after was killed by the new new owner's vet. I'm not going to say PTS as she was killed. After the event, the lady got in my face, and expressed her unhappiness that I had not asked her if she was ok quick enough.

I pointed out I had asked her the next day, yet she and many others had not asked me at all. Not once did the words come from anyone "are you ok?"

Grief and heartache can be shared, many people can feel the same emotion all at the same time, it is not exclusive to one person.  I'm not writing this blog to get  a flood of messages asking if I'm ok, far from it. As always it is a platform for me to express how I'm feeling, and to ponder why people seem to think I am made of stone, and that I don't hurt just as easily as other people.

Just Keep Swimming!!

Someone messaged me yesterday and asked if he had done something wrong, as I had been quiet. Sadly at this time of year, I don't have the energy to lift my head, let alone type witty answers. You can always tell what time of year it is by my answer to people when they message, in the summer months the conversation goes like this:

"hi how are you?"

Hot
Tired
Skint
Stressed

In the winter they go like this:

"hi how are you?"

Wet
Tired
Muddy
Skint
Stressed

There has been so much happening on top of the usual heat of the summer months, and august has been a decidedly shitty month. The summer months are tough, financially, mentally and physically. I am not getting any younger, and every year I feel the struggle more, and do wonder why I do this. On top of the relentless heat, there have been disastrous wild fires, arsehole businesses trying to shut us down, many things that have broken, including my heart. 

So, normal service will be resumed soon I promise, loads to moan and write about, too many dogs, too many cases, not enough money, but hey

"Rescue dogs they said, it would be fun they said" and to add that extra edge do it in the Canaries, where it is always complicated, and the weather hates you. 

Six Months On....

A lot happens in six months, and they say time is a healer, and to a point it is, however, some scars never heal. Six months ago I was being thrown around a pen by a dog that wanted to kill me. I learnt so much from that day, things that I never thought about until I was bleeding out on my stable floor.

I learnt that I do bleed, that I can die, and that I'm not quite ready to go just yet. Before this I was crazy fearless, I would put myself into situations that were beyond stupid, I would face the biggest dogs, and believed that nothing would happen.

Everyday I am reminded of what happened, when I walk into the outside pen the images and memories come flooding back. As I play with the dogs, I am reminded of every moment when my head smashed against the floor, as the dog threw me from side to side. I relive the moment every day, is this healthy probably not, but it's there, and the mind is a strange thing.

My leg also reminds me of what happened, the surgeons did an incredible job, helped by the tattoo they put my leg back together. Visually it is amazing, yes I am missing part of my leg, and it looks odd, but it could have been far worse. I am also reminded of what happened by the pain.

My leg hurts all day, every day, there is no let up from the moment I get up, to the moment I go to sleep. Is it an unbearable pain, no, just a constant ache, a constant pain, Simple tasks like walking, changing gear or lifting objects intensify the pain.

So when people ask how my leg is, well its there, and it likes to remind me every day of what I put it through. Has it stopped me doing what I do, nope, I just do it slower, and with more caution.

Just A Street Dog

It has been a long week for Heinz, a dog I was asked to help, he has caused me more stress, emotion, heartache, and cost than any other dog, but he is worth it. Heinz was hit by a car and left on the side of the road, the car had broken both his hips, which meant that he could not move, so he laid there to die.

What makes this even more tragic is that Heinz only has one rear leg, so he had been surviving on three legs, and his good leg, only has half a paw. When I was asked to help I did not hesitate. I collected him, took him straight to my vets, and that is where the drama started.

Here August is a holiday, yep the WHOLE of August meaning that my "main" vet like many other people take the whole month off. Now if he had been here on the island he would have come in and operated, but sadly he had already left, meaning Heinz and I had no surgeon. He recommended three other good surgeons, and although not happy, off I went to get him booked in elsewhere.

I soon learnt that when he recommended three it wasn't because they were good, it was because out of over 50 clinics here on the island, we only have FOUR trauma surgeons WTF!  The vet had told me Heinz needed the surgery within the first five days after the accident for it to be a success, so the race was on.

The first clinic I contacted said their surgeon was also on holiday. The second I was told I needed an appointment, and the first one was in September, when I explained how urgent the surgery was I was told  "he is just a street dog, he can wait until September"

Now, this is a phrase that makes me go from calm, to psycho in seconds, and this vet got the full psycho. How fucking dare anybody say a living breathing animal, who has the right to this surgery is "just a street dog" So after 30 minutes of me telling this vet EXACTLY what I thought of him in two languages, Heinz and I left.

I sat in my car with him and cried, I kissed his nose, and told him I was so sorry that no one wanted to help. He looked at me and wagged his tail, as if to say it was ok... humans had let him down before, why should now be different. I told him, I'm not your usual human and I wasn't giving up.

On the drive home I contacted the last clinic, a clinic I had worked with before, they said their surgeon was going on holiday in two days, and to send the xrays over, and he would see if he could fit him in. I was grateful there was a glimmer of hope, however, also I was really confused why the hell do ALL the trauma surgeons go on holiday in the same month?

The next day the clinic called, their surgeon just did not have the time to do the surgery, my heart sank. I sat with Heinz and said sorry, he was right humans were shit. I spoke to my vet and explained, he said that all we could do was see how the bones fused, and when our trauma vet was back, he would see if there was anything he could do, but Heinz would be in pain for the rest of his life, and maybe might never walk again.

I was so angry, why can this happen, I began to message everyone I know, and ask for a solution, I was not letting this dog down. A message flashed up on my phone from the last clinic, they wanted to help and said there was a mobile surgeon who went round the island doing trauma surgeries, using clinics. If I could get him to agree to do the surgery, I could use their clinic for free.

After eight hours, I tracked down his contact information, a few emails, a lot of back and forth and he agreed. Probably just wanted me to shut up, but I didn't care, on day FIVE, his last day Heinz was booked in for surgery.  In my haste I hadn't even asked how much the surgery was, but what the hell I have a credit card, and an understanding husband.

I dropped Heinz off for surgery yesterday, kissed his nose, thanked the clinic, paid the huge amount on my credit card and waited. Heinz is home now, recovering, the surgery was a success. Is it as good as my vet would have done, no but Heinz has a chance to walk again.  The "street dog" will have the chance he deserves.

When They Want To Live

Three months ago I was brought a very sorry looking little Yorkshire Terrier, she had been found on the road, discarded like rubbish. She had no hair, was blind and deaf and looked so sorry for herself. I took her to the vet, we did bloods, and his face said it all.

Rati as she was christened by the vet was one very poorly little girl, she had kidney issues, and was really on her last legs. As I looked at this small rat like dog, I just knew she wanted to live.

So, I told the vet I was taking her home for the weekend to see how she went, if she didn't give up, I would support this decision.

From the moment she went into recovery, Rati had a fight for life that I don't see that often, she ate like a horse, wandered around, and although she wobbled, and looked odd there was something about this little warrier. On Monday I took her back, and although the vet was impressed she had survived the weekend, his diagnosis was the same.

He told me she had weeks, and to take her home, and let her decide when she wanted to leave us. So, off I went, and Rati came into the house, as I thought well, she only has weeks, she might as well do it in comfort.

Needless to say we are now three months on, and Rati is still with us, her hair has grown back, she is a diva, trapped in a teeny body. This tiny little dog has proved that no matter what we think as humans, when they want to live they will defy everything.

See What You Want

I did a post on Facebook the other day, with one photo of a dirty kennel before I cleaned, stating that people always say they would love to do what I do. I was not embarrassed by the photo, and have no issues posting it. Yet, the trolls took it to another level.

There was a post about me, and the "state" of my kennels, the poor conditions my dogs are kept, and how I should be shut down. below is the photo, and I will break down the issues these dog caring people raised.

So,  these were the comments made:

• The floor is DISGUSTING, I obviously have not cleaned in days! -  yep, it sure is and within 20 minutes, a bottle of cleaner, and a pressure washer it was spotless. trust me days would be far worse than this 
• There is dog shit in the beds, OBVIOUSLY no one has cleaned in days-  see dogs step in shit, and then they leap everywhere. ALL bedding is changed every day, loads of washing loads of work but worth it 
• The walls need painting- yep, they do, this would involve, time, energy and money, three things I do not have. 
• Those are not REAL beds- nope, they are old transport boxes, recycling at its best. 
• Those NOT real beds have been chewed, and should be thrown out - if I threw out everything that got chewed, I would be throwing out stuff every day.

The post attracted all the usual people, all the usual sofa surfers that have never actually been to a rescue or kennels in their life. So, whilst you are sat on your bum, trolling FB, I am cleaning kennels and saving lives. I know where I would rather be....