The Theory of Podencivity

Bang! I go down hard on the icy road. It's 6:35am in mid December and it's dark. With a dog lead in each hand, it's easy to slip when the road is like glass, and almost impossible to stop myself falling, if the unseen forces have deemed it my fate to sit on my backside in the middle of the street. Nala and Leo have zero sympathy and, it appears, zero tolerance for my holding up their early morning walk by messing about doing whatever it is I'm doing on the floor. As I swap both dog leads into one hand and try to push myself up with the other, they are already pulling, keen to get to where the best smells are. Unfortunately, they are neither pulling in unison, nor in a direction which would assist me in getting to my feet. My legs go from under me and I'm on my back, grateful for the darkness as I flail around like a beetle. My first thought, somewhat surreally, "I've just washed this jacket !" This makes me laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of it and I quiet the dogs and struggle to my feet. Leo is ready for the off but Nala just stands and looks at me. She's almost human, this dog, and I can almost see her rolling her eyes and thinking, "Have you finished messing about now ? Can we carry on ?"

We make our way up the road and into the field. I'm very aware of how cold it is and that the clock is ticking. Leo can't be out for more than 15 minutes without having one of his strange cramping attacks, and both dogs still need to do their morning business. Nala wastes no time and her business is quickly over and done with. I turn back to the road, knowing that Leo will pull me down onto the verge so he can do his. He's predictable. As he squats down, I reach into my pocket for a bag. I'm still holding Nala's lead in my other hand and she's not keen on my hanging about, it's cold. I waste no time. I put my hand inside the bag and reach down to pick up Leo's, rather loose, deposit. My brain registers something warm and cold at the same time as I realise too late that this is one of the bags which Leo chewed and there's a hole in the bottom. I have just picked up my delightful pup's equally delightful poo, with my bare hand. The details of what happens next as I try to shake my hand clean and get both dogs home, I will leave to your (hopefully not too fertile) imagination. Suffice it to say, it's not an experience I'm eager to repeat in a hurry. I storm into the house almost sending a very surprised looking Rico, flying. Five minutes later, I'm clean and ready to go again, this time with Rico. In contrast, this boy is wonderfully calm and I have no fear of repeating my beetle like behaviour. Just as well, it's getting light now and the neighbours already think I'm slightly wanting in the top storey. We amble up the road, each of us doing our own thing but we're very much together. He's my shadow, this dog. He's my Mr. Rico. We stroll up to the field, him sniffing and weeing every few metres, me musing on the day ahead. Fifteen minutes later, business having been despatched, we're back home in the warm. I glance at the clock, it's 7:15am.

I sit and eat my breakfast in what could never be be described as peace and quiet. Leo is wide awake and raring to go. It's playtime. It's pandemonium as the three of them race from room to room, round and round. I half watch them and half tune it out. It's loud but I love to see how they interact. Leo is always in the middle of everything. He is the instigator of this ruckus but also the reason that Rico has learned to play and that Nala has rediscovered both her maternal side and her crazy side. He is, this seven month old pup from the perrera, their teacher. And mine too.

A year ago, I had never even heard the word podenco. A year ago Nala and I had a peaceful, quiet life. A year ago, I could do exactly as I pleased, go exactly where I wanted. I often took Nala with me but also had the option of leaving her at home. If I wanted to go away for a few days, it was never a problem to find someone to take care of Nala. My princess loves everybody and everybody loves my princess. She fits in anywhere. Life before I heard the word podenco, was easy. Life before I heard the word podenco, was good.

I can almost hear you gasp, as you read that last sentence. It bears repeating. Life before I heard the word podenco, was good.

I always slept in a dog free, dog hair free, bed.
I often slept until 8am.
I never flailed like a beetle on the ice in the dark.
I never put my hand through a chewed dog poo bag.
I took Nala for her walk when I wanted, where I wanted and for as long as I wanted.
I had more spare cash than I have now.
I could lay on the sofa and read or write, undisturbed, Nala's head on my lap.
There was enough room for me on my sofa.
Nala and I went to nice restaurants and shops.
I could write all afternoon in a cafe, with Nala curled up fast asleep by my side.

I could go on, but I won't. I think you get the point. Life before I heard the word podenco, was good.

And then came that moment, the shovel in the face moment I describe in my first blog post. My first, albeit, virtual encounter with a podenco was a powerful experience that I will never forget and it changed everything.

The addition of Rico to our family of two, disrupted our well rehearsed, easy life somewhat. It becomes more difficult when you have two dogs, you have to think a bit, and plan. Tripping off for the weekend becomes more complicated. As wonderful as Rico is, he's not easy easily absorbed into another family, with other dogs, as Nala is. There were no 'for fun' summer weekend trips to Prague or Merano this year. I went to the UK on 'family business' and spent the day in Bolzano on my birthday, but in both of these cases I was lucky enough that my good friends were both understanding and willing to help.

But, I took it all in my stride. Rico, is an easy dog, with me. I could take him all the places I took Nala, he was calm on the lead, he had good recall, he was a perfect gentleman when we went into a cafe or restaurant, he never put a foot wrong. He was loving and generous of spirit. Pretty soon life began to look like it had before his arrival, he was the perfect dog for Nala and me. Two had simply become three.

Back in August, I was writing my book, completely absorbed and grateful that Rico fitted in so well. And then it came again, that damn shovel in my face. From nowhere, Leo appeared. This time huge changes. A pup is always a challenge. A pup from the perrera who has missed that vital socialisation stage, more challenging still. A pup with a strange cramping problem triggered by cold coming to Austria at the beginning of a long winter, is something else again. My life is governed by this boy's needs. I plan my day around him. I have to. He has changed everything, yet again.

Life before I heard the word podenco, was good.

So, dear reader, please explain to me the reason why I'm sitting here at my computer looking at my two sleeping podencos with the biggest smile on my face and a feeling of such utter contentment that comes from deep within me. Please explain to me why I don't give a damn that I have no money, too little sleep, no chance of taking off to a christmas market, increasing vet bills, a need to replace items Leo has used as dental floss and even going for a walk or beer requires planning that would make a military general look disorganised.

These dogs, are podencos. I have suspected for some time that there is an unwritten natural law about podencos. It's akin to Newton's theory of gravitation or Einstein's theory of relativity. And, to me, equally as important. Every podenco 'owner' knows of it but maybe no-one has named it. I'm calling it 'Podencivity' and my theory is simply this; whatever a podenco takes from you, from your life, from your time and your riches, he will give back to you a thousand fold or more. You can neither explain this, nor quantify it. Don't even try. Podencos, just are.

My shovel in the face moment brought me into contact with podencos and changed my life. The more I learn of them, the more I love them.  The more I learn of their plight, the more determined I am to do whatever I can to help them.

Life before I heard the word podenco, was good.

Life now, is even better.

The Things We Do For Podenco Love

Everyone who knows me, from my postman to my students to my friends to my wonderful podenco loving blog followers, knows that I absolutely adore my dogs. That's capital A, no question. 

What only those who know me well, know, is that there are two things that I will not leave the house without. Under. Any. Circumstances. The first is my lipstick (yes, I can hear you laughing) and the second is making sure my hair is right. Before you roll your eyes, I am a Leo, a lioness and my mane is my trademark. I'm laying my soul bare here because it's important.

So what does all this have to do with podencos ?

It's simple. Southern Spain has already seen snow and temperatures below zero and the winter is set to be one of the coldest on record. Snow and those temperatures are normal here in Austria and kind of quirky if you're in Alicante in a nice warm hotel. But what if you're a podenco up in the hills in a finca ? It's even colder up there and these beautiful, often underweight dogs who have been rescued by Beverley Farmer Podencos are feeling the cold. I can't let that happen. Today is December 1st and the winter is only just beginning. 

Beverley has appealed for coats and anything to keep the dogs warm but I'm determined to do my bit. You see, two of the dogs, who are now asleep in the warmth of my apartment, are podencos from Beverley. Without her and Warren, there would be no Rico and Leo and I for one, just cannot imagine my life without these two boys in it.

So, to try to raise some money for Beverley's podencos, I'm going to forego something which means a lot to me - my lion's mane. That's right. This week, my hairdresser will shave off my hair. I will do this so that the podencos can be warm. I have plenty of wooly hats for when I go outside and I'm more than willing to look like a prat for a podenco !

This will be videoed as it happens and I will post a you tube link soon thereafter.

Please Please Please, in the name of the podencos, sponsor me, don't let me look a prat for nothing and don't let these beautiful dogs be cold this winter !

Paypal : podencopowered@gmail.com

THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH XXXXXXXX

Alex <3

The Night

10:02pm - I open the door and three dogs fly past me, vanishing into the darkness. The outside light hasn't worked for a week now but there always seems to be something else to do and it's always at night when I realise that another day has gone by so fast. The light, despite my nightly good intentions, is still not working. I switch on my torch, hold it high and pan it across the garden. The beam of light finds my breath on the cold night air. I flick to the thermometer just outside my door. Minus three. Much warmer than of late. Out of the darkness comes a single bark and I swing the focus of the torch back to the garden. I don't need to see, to know who barked. I could probably pick out my dogs' voices in a pack of two dozen dogs. What interests me is what Rico barked at. The beam of light finds him up on the bank. He's looking down the street and I assume he's answering the good night call of one of the neighbours' dogs. Having poor hearing myself, I miss things like this. Rico, of course, doesn't. I move the shaft of light around the garden, seeking Nala and little Leo. It promptly finds two pairs of eyes moving rapidly towards me like heat seeking missiles. I step aside as they barrel past me back into the warm. I close the door behind them and walk further out. This is our routine. My big man likes to take his time. Last month I was still able to sit on the step and wait for him but the step is now covered in snow. I walk instead, up onto the garden and watch him. Up at the back, near the boundary hedge, is a large round stone. I often find him up there and tonight is no exception. He looks majestic, typical podenco. I love this stance and Rico has it perfected. Majestic but oh so modest and as I watch him, I am immediately reminded from his stance, that the podenco probably has direct links to ancient Egypt. What a tragedy that they are now so underrated and abused. I push the thought from my mind and call him in. Here he is not underrated, he is valued. Here he is not abused, he is adored. I close the door on the cold night and on thoughts of his past life and we go to bed.
10.18pm - By the time I've finished in the bathroom and turned off the computer and the lights, all three dogs are in bed. In my bed. Every night the same. All three of them laying exactly where I want to lay. Which is the point, I guess. In my physical absence, they are drawn to my scent. Still, however much understanding I have for their chosen positions, they are in my bed and I want to get in it. It's mine.
10.20pm - Three dogs with a combined weight of 45kg laying on my duvet. Me tugging, trying to shift them. They look at me. Their looks say it all, sorry we like it here, it reminds us of you.
10.22 pm - Begrudgingly, as if I've taken away their favourite thing, they get up almost in unison and move to the next bed. Three sighs follow as they take up their positions in the next part of the ritual. Nala, dives under the blanket, turns around three times and flops down. Sigh. Rico, gathers the remaining blanket together, making himself a nest, turns round approximately a hundred and three times and flops down. Sigh. Leo, waits patiently until the big ones are settled, and then, like the clever little man he is, dives under the duvet next to me. Sigh. For the next ten minutes I do nothing. Nothing except reflect upon the day as I feel the three of them completely relax and fall asleep.
11.45pm - I awake. The light is on. I lean to switch it off, feeling Leo's soft murmur as I move him. Darkness descends and we both fall asleep once more.
2.09am - It's like the steps to a dance, we've danced a thousand times before. I sense Nala standing by my side. Without fully waking, I lift up the duvet, she hops up beside me, stretches her body full length against mine and we are both asleep before I've lain the duvet and my arm across her. She doesn't need this every night, but when she needs it she comes, safe in the knowledge that she is and always will be, safe, cherished and my princess.
3:37am - I'm awoken by a noise I'm now familiar with. Rico is having a dream. A bad dream. His whimper is not like that of Nala or Leo when they dream. It's a sound that comes from somewhere deep inside him. It's the sound of his past. Usually, I lay my hand upon him and he relaxes but this night, he's out of reach. I flip on the night light and half sit up, I need to go to him. And then something remarkable happens. Little Leo crawls out from where he's sleeping, goes to Rico, peers at him and then very gently begins to lick his face. I lay back and watch, mesmerised. In seconds the whimpering stops, Leo flops down by the big man's side and falls asleep. I turn off the light and lay in the darkness unable to believe what I've just witnessed. And yet I shouldn't really be surprised. The bond between these two is stronger every day. Yes, Rico still has his grumpy old man moments when the pipsqueak gets on his nerves, but it's very clear that he's changing since this little guy's arrival. He's freer, more playful and delights in the smallest things. To observe them at play, two podencos, born 5 years apart but within a day of each other, is to marvel at the podencos' resilience and their capacity to love, against all the odds. It's a privilege to be a part of it.
5.19am - I roll over and there's a warm little body next to mine. Leo is back. He wriggles himself effortlessly into my arms as if he's been doing this all his life. He rests his head on my shoulder and I can feel his podenco puppy breath on my face. We fall asleep.
6.45am - An internal alarm clock, born of a primitive need - hunger, wakes Nala. She stretches, slides out of bed and shakes. The others are awake in an instant. The day must begin.

The night, is over.

The Pocket Podenco from the Perrera - Leo's Story (updated 15.05.14 tocelebrate his first birthday)

Leo - only six months old and already he has captured so very many hearts

It's mid May in southern Spain. The first summer tourists are enjoying the beaches, the bars and restaurants, the perfect blue sky and the warm sun on their skin. This, is paradise. 

A few kilometres inland, an emaciated and neglected podenca lies under the very same blue sky, the very same warm sun. She's on a chain, a short chain. She needs to drink but the bowl is empty, not that she can reach it. She's hungry. It's been a while since the master came out and threw them some dry bread. She's uncomfortable. She has pain inside. Is it from where the master kicked her yesterday, or is it something else? The pain increases. She tries to shift position, to lie on her side. This chain, if only it were a little longer. She lays panting, unable to move more than a few inches. The pain comes again, swelling like a wave. It's too warm, no shade, no water, no food, no help. She's too tired, too hungry, too thirsty, too weak but she knows she must survive. Soon she will bring life into the world. Soon. Very soon. She summons her strength, the little she has left, and on that sunny afternoon in May, her babies are born.

A few kilometres away, on the beaches, in the bars and in the restaurants, the fun, continues.

It's now mid August. There are thousands of tourists basking in the scorching summer sun in the paradise that is southern Spain. It's beautiful, nothing bad could ever happen here, right?

On a street, a short distance away, there is a building. Within the grounds, four podenco puppies lie in the sun. Thankfully, they are all too young to even sense that this small pen with the concrete floor where they spend their days behind bars, might very well be the last place they will ever see. This is the local perrera, the killing station. Their days in the sun, are numbered. Their days in this world, are numbered. This is death row and they are all, on the kill list. They are oblivious to their fate. Thankfully.

It is estimated that upward of 50,000, yes fifty thousand, podencos will be abandoned, killed or turned in to a perrera each year. That's 137 podencos a day. One hundred and thirty seven unwanted podencos, disposed of like rubbish. Every. Single. Day. Against the backdrop of that statistic, what chance do these puppies on death row have? How likely is it that they will be saved? Sadly, it's not very likely at all.

The Fab Four in the Perrera

But wait, they have been spotted. Someone has seen these beautiful babies. Someone wants to save them. Dare we hope for a miracle? A call goes out on Facebook, it's urgent, they have a kill date and it's just around the corner. Can they be saved, please Lord let them be saved! Another appeal, another posting, hundreds of people sharing these baby examples of podenco perfection. They are given a stay of execution and interest surges, money is raised. They are safe.

In another kennel, just feet away, sits another little pup. Waiting to be saved. Waiting to be killed. Which will be his fate? Someone spots him but the money that has been raised isn't enough to save him too. There is only enough money to save the other four. What now? Another appeal goes out and an angel of mercy steps up. She will pay the price on his head. She will save his life. 

What no-one knows, is that these beautiful puppies are the precious offspring of that fated podenca who lay chained and panting in the mid May sun. What became of that poor podenco mother we can only guess. 

All five pups go into temporary foster care. They are safe.

Leo on his way to safety. Scared, but free.

A few days later they are on their way to Alicante. To Beverley Farmer Podencos. What irony. Transported from the perrera and certain death, to a genuine podenco paradise in a matter of days. 

And that, dear reader, is where I became a part of this story. I had been busy for a while, spending less time on Facebook, concentrating instead, on writing my book. One afternoon, taking a break, I logged on to see what was new. Almost immediately, a new post popped up. And there he was. Sky, as he was called back then. One look at his dark eyes and I was lost. This 4kg, 30cm high, pocket podenco puppy stole my heart in a millisecond. Resistance was futile. 

The Pocket Podenco - who wouldn't fall in love with this face, these eyes?

I had not, even remotely, been considering a third dog. Nala, Rico and I had a very peaceful life. We had moved into the big apartment in the same house, I was writing furiously, lost in my own world. On paper, adopting this little guy was crazy. My peace would be shattered, my writing would be disturbed, my life would be turned upside down. I messaged Beverley Farmer. For two days I went back and forth in my head. It might well be madness but in truth it was only ever about how, not if. I had made the decision the instant those dark eyes stole my heart. It was the only decision possible. He would be mine.

Eight long weeks I waited for him. He was ready to travel but I couldn't take him straight away. I had commitments, it was impossible. Bev sent me photos, anecdotes, told me how he'd grown. I devoured every detail, every morsel of information and I couldn't stop looking at his pictures. He was special, different, a little dog with the heart of a lion and a character to match. He would be called Leo, I decided, Little Leo the Lionheart.

In contrast, the eight weeks waiting for Leo were much calmer than those I spent waiting for Rico. It's true, I was writing and therefore preoccupied, but there was something else, too. Rico, I had actively sought out and my need to have him with me immediately, was feverish. Leo was different. Leo, had somehow, for some reason, found me. 

One night, about two weeks before Leo was due to come home, something happened. Something you might find strange, but to me, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. It was about 2am and I was in bed. Nala by my feet, and Rico curled round the front of me. I felt something stir, close to the small of my back. Half asleep I whispered, "It's ok, little Leo, go to sleep." The stirring ceased and I fell back to sleep. So you see, there was no need for feverish countdowns this time, little Leo was already with us.

During the final few days, my calmness vanished. I was counting down, of course I was. Suddenly, I couldn't wait to meet my little man, couldn't wait to hold his precious little podenco body in my arms. The day dawned and I was up with the lark, more than ready for the 600km drive to Ludwigshafen, Germany, where I would meet the transport coming up from Spain. It was Friday and because of the early drop off time the next morning, I actually left Austria before Leo left Spain. I would get to Ludwigshafen, have something nice to eat, drink a couple of beers and sleep in my more than big enough car, right there at the drop off point. I was taking no chances. Driving up the motorway in Germany, I got a call from the transporter. Leo wasn't on board and he couldn't wait for him any longer. Nooooooo ! I screamed at him. He laughed, told me to calm down and agreed to wait ten more minutes. I was worried. I know Bev, and I knew there must've been a damn good reason why she wasn't there. There was. An accident blocking a spanish country road with no possibility of getting past. At the same time I was screaming at the transport guy (forgive me, Klaus!), Bev was screaming at the farmer to clear the road. I called Klaus back and sure enough, ten minutes later Leo was on board and ready for the journey that would begin the next chapter of his young life. An emotional moment. Tears of relief in my eyes, in Germany. Tears born of a hundred different emotions, in Bev's eyes, in Spain. He was on his way.

It was a hellish night, as I knew it would be. I tried to sleep, I couldn't sleep. I tried to write, I couldn't write. Eventually I gave up and settled down to watch the lights of the ever increasing volume of cars on the road just outside my window. At 6.30am, I packed away my bed and walked to the petrol station up the road for a wash and some coffee. As I washed my face in the tiny washroom, I glanced up at my reflection. I looked as exhausted as I felt but I didn't care. Leo would be with me in less than an hour. I grinned at myself in the mirror, dried myself off and headed back to my car.

This was my second meeting with Klaus, the transport guy from Germany, and we'd been swapping emails the last few days as I was trying to help a rescue organisation in Spain to find a reliable transporter for their dogs re-homed into Germany. He called a greeting above the heads of the other 'new parents' and in unison they turned to look at me, clearly wondering how many dogs I already had. I smiled at them and in unison they turned back to the van where Klaus was now beginning to unload his precious cargo. When I picked up Rico, I had virtually bowled the others out of the way and Rico was first out of the van. Today, I recognised that same impatience in the others and I hung back. I could wait ten more minutes for my little man.

And then there he was. Beautiful. Tiny. Rather bewildered. I carried him back to my car and climbed in the back. I held him in my arms for what seemed like the longest time and felt his little body relax. He was asleep. I lay him on the sheepskin rug I had brought with me just for him, and began the long drive home.

Autumn can be the best season in Austria and despite it being the end of October, the weather was warm and sunny. When we got back that afternoon it was still 23 Celsius and after the necessary introductions to Nala, Rico and their friend, big Oscar the weimaraner, my friends and I sat in the sun with a beer and watched them get acquainted. You know your own dog and my predictions of how they would each react to the new kid were spot on. Nala loved him on sight, a playmate. She was delighted. They ran round and round, wonderful to see. Oscar is a laid back kinda guy and welcomed the little pipsqueak, who just about came up to his knees, with a sniff and a typical Oscar shimmy. Rico, sensing this was more than just a visitor, wanted nothing to do with him. Nothing whatsoever.  I wasn't worried and I understood why. After almost five years of being deprived of love and attention, he'd had nothing but, for the last six months. He'd found his own slice of paradise and now he had to share it.  Poor Rico. 

We went home and the little guy ran in as if he'd lived here all his life. He spotted a tennis ball and immediately began to play. He picked it up, threw it in the air, pounced on it as it landed, did a lap of the room and threw it in the air again. A wonderful sight. I flopped on the sofa and watched him play. Nala joined in and after ten crazy, fun filled minutes he hopped up onto the sofa beside me and fell asleep with his head on my lap. I stroked his little head and as I looked down at him and thought about how close he'd come to being killed in the perrera, the tears finally fell. I made a pledge there and then that I would do whatever it took to make sure no harm would ever befall this little man and that he would have a lifetime of nothing but love and freedom. 

Little did I know how soon my pledge would be put to the test.

We went to bed that night, just three of us. Nala, Leo and I. Rico, stayed in the living room, alone. I was sad but I know my big man and I knew he'd come round in time. It was up to me to show him that nothing had changed and that I didn't love him any less. He would be fine, I knew it. Leo, fell asleep in my arms.

The next dawned bright and sunny and off we went on one of our favourite walks. Out and about Rico was absolutely fine with Leo, no hostility, no problems. Another sign that it would all come right in time.

 

We quickly settled into a routine. I love my dogs dearly but managing three of them with no help means being pack leader, unless you want chaos to ensue. I don't. For the first three days, we got up, went outside, ate breakfast, went outside again, slept a while, played a while, went for a walk in the sun and came home. The dogs slept, I worked. When they woke up the cycle began again. Rico was still keeping his distance but Leo was settling in perfectly. On the whole, life was good.

On the fourth day, it rained. We went outside as normal and Leo seemed not to be fazed. But it was cold. A quick glance at the outdoor thermometer told me it was 8 Celsius. A quick glance at Leo tearing around the garden after Nala, told me this was not a problem as far as he was concerned. I smiled and gathered my gang for breakfast. By 11am it was still raining but they were getting restless, they needed their walk. I put Leo his pullover on and an old coat of Nala's, which was much too big but better than nothing, and off we went. He strutted his stuff, seemingly oblivious to the rain. Nala, I had to virtually drag, as always. She's a proper princess and hates rain with a passion, always has. Rico was fine. No coat, marching along. I'm Mister Rico, I'm a man. A coat - pah!

And then, from nowhere, it happened. Within the space of a few seconds Leo lifted his back leg, his little body arched sideways and, unable to walk, he fell over. I rushed to pick him up. His body was stiff and his head was turned upwards. I put him under my arm and ran home as fast as my legs could carry me. We had been out a mere 15 minutes. I took his coat off, wrapped him in a towel, put him on the warm rug and stroked him. His eyes never left mine and although my heart was beating at about twice its normal speed, I soothed him, stroked him, talked to him. I felt him relax and 5 minutes later he got up, shook himself and ran to fetch his ball. I rang my vet. Don't panic, she said. That alone, was enough to calm me down. My vet is also a very good friend and there is no one I would trust more with my dogs. We agreed that if it happened again I would take him straight to see her and that I should try to video it happening so she could establish if it had been some kind of fit. When I woke the next morning, I could already see the sun. It wouldn't happen today, I just knew. And I was right. A thirty minute walk, no problems at all.

Meanwhile, Rico was perfecting his grumpy old man routine. If Leo went within 2 metres of him, he growled. If Leo got on the sofa, he got off. At night he continued to sleep in the living room on his own. I didn't change anything. All three dogs got the same attention. I didn't treat Leo like a baby, I don't believe in that. He is a part of my pack but Nala is the alpha dog and Rico the next in the pecking order. It's tough being the new kid.

That afternoon, we had a breakthrough. I was hoovering in the living room and Leo was afraid. Instead of darting to the bedroom as he'd done on the last three occasions, he decided to take his chances and climb onto the back of the bed where Nala and Rico were already laying. I held my breath and watched out of the corner of my eye, waiting to see what Rico would do. He raised his head, looked around at the little guy, and relaxed again. Yes! I did a little dance with the hoover. We were winning! That evening, progress continued apace. I teach English and to make life easier, I had invited my students to come to me. I was sitting on the sofa with Rico by my side. Two students were sitting opposite and as I leaned forward to explain something to them, Leo hopped up and crept around the back of me. He was about a foot away from Rico. Rico looked up but didn't move and didn't growl. I carried on talking and I could feel Leo inching his way closer to Rico. Closer. Closer. Closer. I slowly looked around and there he was, my little man resting his head on the big guy's leg. What a sight. What a feeling. Indescribable. I was so proud of Rico, so proud of my boys. I brushed away a tear, stroked them both and carried on teaching the best I could.

He's at the back, but he's on!

And so it began

The next few days remained sunny, and even though the temperature was only around 10 Celsius, there was no further manifestation of the strange cramping attack. I was relieved but somehow I knew it wasn't a one off, it would be back as soon as the weather turned again. The very next day, it rained.

By now Leo's fleece and coat had arrived from Toni Collard in Spain. They were wonderful but I had the feeling that this issue wasn't going to be resolved by dressing him up, no matter how warm the coat, how numerous the layers. But, he needed a walk so I massaged his muscles and got him ready. I decided on a loop which I knew would take no more than 15 minutes. We left Nala at home. She was grateful. We set off, my two boys and I, trotting through the rain into the woods. He ran and sniffed and it was like any other walk. I began to think there might not be a problem today. Maybe it really was just a one off. I put my phone away, no need for the video function today. As I zipped up my pocket, bang, down he went. It was exactly the same as before. His body was twisted and his back legs were stiff. His head was turned, facing skyward. We were a mere 20m from the car. I scooped him up and we went straight to the vet. By the time we arrived, he was jumping around as if nothing had happened. My vet is the caring but unflappable type. We talked it through and, although I'd missed the chance to record it happening, my description indicated to her that this was unlikely to be a seizure of the epileptic kind. It was clearly caused by or triggered by the cold and the damp. When you consider that Leo was born at the beginning of summer, spent his very early life in a state of neglect and then in the perrera, was only used to warm or indeed hot sun, and even now was a mere slip of a thing weighing 7kg, there is no wonder his little body was finding the plummeting temperatures difficult to handle. We agreed to test him for mineral deficiency and monitor him closely. I left feeling concerned but not worried. It's a terrible thing to witness but I trust my friend, the vet. Somehow we would get to the bottom of it.

The blood results came back showing no clear signs of a deficiency which would be likely to cause such attacks. The next time it happened I was able to film it and my vet is now certain that we are dealing with an extreme form of cramp brought on by the cold. Our view is that he will continue to grow, he will continue to gain weight, his fur will become denser and he will, in time, adapt. In the meantime our walks are short but frequent and I do what I can to avoid an attack. If it does happen, we both take it in our stride and I know he'll be back on his feet and running within a few minutes. It's something we live with. It's not a threat to his life or his well being.  

The weather has changed, snow lies all around and the real alpine winter is definitely on its way. Leo is a lively little fun ball who runs and runs and jumps and plays and then runs some more. He runs tirelessly round the garden in the snow and straight back inside when he's had enough. He sleeps in my arms at night, sleeps with Nala when he naps and his charm has gradually worn down Rico's remaining grumpy old man act. They are like two podencos should be, brothers. He loves his walks, trots along with such pride and such delight and as long as I'm careful, we can all but avoid his cramps. 

I'm lucky. I'm a writer, a translator and a teacher and I work from home. I don't miss a second of the development of this wonderful little guy and his absorption into our family. That he has this problem is just one of those things. It only makes me love him more. I pledged to take care of him come what may, and that's what I'm doing. Winter is long here but it doesn't last forever. We will see this through, whatever it is, together.

15.04.2014

How time flies. Today is a very special day for my little man. The pocket pod who began his life in such dire conditions, is now a year old. A year ago the odds were stacked against him even surviving, but now his life is full, happy, carefree. He has all he needs. And more.

The winter is over and it's now late spring. His peculiar cramping attacks vanished with the last of the snow and he's full of life, full of energy, full of wonder at the things the new season has brought with it. Birds, his favourite thing. Butterflies, beetles and flies, his favourite thing. The sweet new grass, his favourite thing. The lake, his favourite thing. Running free, the way these dogs should, his absolute most favourite thing. Everyone who meets this boy comments on how much he so obviously loves life. It's true. He exudes joy. Whether it's because he's a one year old pup, or because this is a life he senses he came so close to losing, we shall never know. 

He is also the most loving dog I've ever known. (No hang on, that's not right. Rico is also unbelievably loving. It must be a pod thing). He loves to climb up onto my knee and go to sleep or lay along the back of the sofa behind me, his head on my shoulder. Neither of these positions are particularly comfortable when I'm trying to write, but I don't have the heart to move him. We stay like that for an hour or more, me typing away, with either my arms or my neck at a funny angle, him snoring softly, totally contented. I'm just happy he's asleep. When he sleeps, I can write. I take full advantage. While I can. Sleep for this (not so) little (anymore) guy, is like a battery recharge. When he wakes, the fun begins. That's a term I use loosely. He's a typical pup, looking around for mischief. If neither Nala nor Rico are in the mood for a game of bitey face or zoomies, he looks around for things to 're-model'. Time to stop writing and take him out. 

His ultimate walk is the lake loop. Here he can run free with no fear of traffic. We meet very few people and he can charge around to his heart's content. His need to be near me is far greater than his need to explore further afield. I need only change direction and he comes flying back to my side. Off the lead, he's a dream dog. On the lead he is, shall we say, a challenge. He can walk perfectly well next to me but his enthusiasm for the million smells in the air, the creatures in the forest, and the people we meet, overwhelms him, and he finds it hard to relax and just let it all come to him. He goes rushing forward, like some canine pac-man, devouring life's experiences as he goes. In the last two weeks, he has encountered his first sheep, horse, cow and goat. He's absolutely fascinated and I'm sure he'd love to get into their field and run around with them. That, of course, would go down a storm with the local farmers. Sorry, Leo, you can't play with everything you meet.

One of the cutest things is his interest in our neighbours. He sits on my chair on our terrace overlooking the street, and simply watches the world go by. He loves this, and I'm sure he knows more about the comings and goings in our neighbourhood than I do. Occasionally he'll look up at the sky and I swear he's thinking, "Hm, it will rain before the day is out."

His love for Nala and Rico is heartwarming. The three of them often sleep in a heap, all piled up together. If I'm on the sofa, that's where they have to be too, and where there is will, there is always a way.

Six months, you have been in my life, Leo, and already you've taught me so much. With your unquenchable thirst for life you have reminded me that there is beauty in all things, opportunity in all things, fun and laughter in all things. You are full of challenges, full of fun, full of love. Life isn't always easy but I'm so very glad I took the chance to bring you into our family. Happy birthday my little man, I love you very much xxx <3

A Cry For Help !

Dear Podenco Power readers,

I had intended the next part of my blog to be about Little Leo. He has won so very many hearts and had such a tough start in life, it's the obvious next story.

However, last night I was chatting to a person I consider a very good Facebook friend. She herself has several rescue podencos and does an awful lot very quietly behind the scenes. She is modest to a fault and most of her successes never publicly see the light of day. This case is different. When she told me the unbelievable story you are about to read, I just knew I had to share this with you all. She needs our help this time, and above all, two podencos need our help. Together, we can resolve this. We are banging the podenco drum and we have, podenco power!

Please note that this story is being told only to try to get these two dogs re-homed. We are not interested in castigating any individual whose actions are described below. It's about the dogs. It's always about the dogs.

Please, read this story, share with your friends and if you even think you can help, please contact Anne O'Connor on Facebook or via Email at : annemonique88@yahoo.co.uk

Thank you everyone,

Alex xxxx

Hi Alex,

This letter is an appeal for help to rescue a couple of dogs I have been following on Facebook for some time now. The really sad thing is, I am hoping that someone can help rescue them from their “Rescuer”. Let me tell you about the dogs.

Polo

Polo was in the perrera in Huesca, Aragon back in January 2012. He is a real little scruffy podenco, very loving and affectionate. He was in need of a home as he had been in the perrera for quite a few months and the place was filling up. The situation was getting serious so his plight was posted onto Beryl Brennan's Podenco Post page. That's where I first saw him. I reserved Polo with a view to finding him a new home. However, he was then removed from the perrera by a man, who for legal reasons I must call by a different name, Juan.  At that time Juan worked for a local refuge. I spoke to Juan and he told me that Polo would be travelling to a new life in Italy. All seemed OK, Polo would be saved so I took another young podenco who was struggling in the perrera, instead.

Later that year I received a message from Juan to say that he was not working for the refuge any longer. I didn't think much of it until I had some further business with them in June. When I visited the refuge, I saw that Polo was actually still there and not in his new home in Italy. Polo did not belong to the refuge, he was registered to Juan. Juan had left him there after he left their employ. Polo, after being moved to the refuge was to stay there for another 20 months. Polo is a fairly young dog with a normal level of energy and curiosity. Because of some incidents with other dogs, Polo has had to spend most of that time in his own little pen away from the others. Add to this the fact that Polo has a low level Leishmaniasis infection, and his chances of finding a good home diminish significantly.

Polo did have treatment thanks to a very generous donation from a friend, but I do not think he is on any maintenance medication. When you add to that the inevitable stress of being locked away for two years, he is likely to be at risk of a recurrence, never mind the psychological damage that this kind of incarceration has caused. 

Polo at the very least needs to find a home where he is loved and looked after properly, after the ordeals he has faced.

It transpires that Juan left the country for most of this year and has returned demanding the return of these dogs, dogs that he abandoned, from the refuge. When he did not get his way, he accused the refuge of stealing the dogs and the police were called in to requisition the animals. So where do you imagine poor Polo is now? He's back in the perrera!

Estrella

A couple from a different organisation approached me to help share little Estrella. This dog had been “rescued”, re-homed to the Netherlands, rejected by her adopters through no fault of her own, and sent back to Spain. She ended up being handed over to Juan and has spent most of this year in the same refuge she came from. In all that time she has not been neutered! She has been living at the refuge at their expense. But now, as a result of the denuncia made by Juan she too is sitting back in a perrera waiting for salvation.

I do not want to dwell too much on this man and his antics, suffice to say I believe that he has been running up debts with private kennels, posing as a charity to get donations and extorting money from people by saying that he will be denounced and his dogs will go back into a perrera. He has used the dogs in his “care” shamelessly. Who ever heard of a dog being rescued, re-homed and then returned to Spain to land back in a perrera?! What has happened here is beyond disgusting and it's got to stop. These poor vulnerable creatures have been exploited and left in a sort of purgatory for long enough. Polo is safe for now but if his Leishmaniasis flares up again, what will become of him? Ironically, going to the perrera may be their best hope of escape.

The perrera manager says that she will ask the judge to release the dogs to an adopter and she will allow them to travel out of the country. They will be registered to the adopter and Juan will have no claim on them any longer. No one wants to see Juan get hold of these dogs again, but this is still a reality if they cannot be adopted out of this never-ending hell.

I believe Juan will no longer be allowed to remove dogs from perreras in future. Someone does need to do something about him but this post is really about the animals that have been suffering his neglect, greed and ego for too long.

I know your blog is read by some of the leading lights in podenco rescue, so I am hoping against hope that something can be done for these poor wretches. Perhaps a rescue organisation can step up for them, perhaps someone who wants to adopt may be found. 

If anyone wants to help in any small way, please get in touch and I can forward details. I have a contact in the area who can help.

Anne O'Connor

annemonique88@yahoo.co.uk

Step up, Podenco Power readers, please. Someone out there has a space on a sofa, I'm sure. Don't let these dogs spend yet another winter behind bars after having once been 'saved'.

Alex xxx

The Podenco Prince - Rico's Story

Solid, warm, reassuring but somehow vulnerable and relying on me to keep him safe. I feel him breathe against my side, his body full length against mine. After a full ten minutes I feel him relax and he falls asleep. The first time he has done this in five whole days. This is trust in its truest form and it brings a tear to my eye. 

On my other side, a tiny little imp. He has been with us for just a week. His slender body sprawled at an angle, his Bambi like legs in all directions, his head in my lap. He too is asleep. I rest my hand on his side and feel him breathe. For the moment he's out for the count and I'm grateful to begin the day so peacefully. Yesterday morning, 6am was play time. 

Somewhere down by my feet, the matriarch lies sleeping, her presence this morning is enough to relax both my boys. She's the princess, my princess, and she knows it. We've been together a long time.

Three very different dogs. Three very different stories. And me. We are becoming a team, a quartet, a family. 

Rico is my podenco prince. Handsome in an understated way. Indeed nobody could really berate a casual observer, if he should say that everything about Rico is understated. It's true he doesn't often push himself forward, he avoids confrontation wherever possible and he rarely gets excited, but there is so much more to Rico than that. His ability to love is absolute. His trust is unfaltering. His gratitude for this life he now lives is almost palpable. These things are not understated. At all. For the first five years of his life, he never knew a bed, a sofa, a place to call home. It's also apparent that for most of that time he never knew a kind word, love, respect, trust or fun. He doesn't play in the broadest sense of the word. He doesn't play tug of war with a rope toy, play 'bitey face' or run after a ball. He never really learned how, I guess. But Rico has a childlike quality that can make me laugh out loud. He has this charming little scamper which is combined with a little shake of his bottom. He doesn't run, he skips, and even from behind you can sense his happiness. It's a kind of happiness you'd have to call delight and I'd swear to God that anyone approaching from the front, would say he had a smile on his face. When he wakes up next to me in the mornings, he opens one eye to see if I'm awake and immediately rolls onto his back, legs straight in the air and demands a belly rub. He wriggles around, wagging his tail and playfully nibbles my fingers. This is what Rico would call fun.  Call it understated if you like, but you'd be wrong - we all see the world through different eyes and I know that my podenco prince is having fun when I see these things. I know he is happy. 

We none of us know what kind of a life he had before he was rescued. He bears a few scars on his face and some subhuman, probably his hunter owner, filed the points off his canine teeth but we can only guess, from what we know about how podencos are treated, what his life was really like. Chained up in a small inadequate place with no bed, or even a blanket, fed the bare minimum and given just enough water to survive. On hunting days he'd be let out and expected to hunt. Woe betide him if he disgraced his master. By some miracle he survived, and ended up first in a shelter and ultimately in the care of Beverley and Warren, Podenco Friends. That's where our paths not only crossed, but merged. Six months we've been together now. My life without him in it, is unimaginable. He's the kind of dog you wish more humans were like. There is no pretence in this boy, he wears his heart very much on his sleeve and his loyalty is unwavering. As is his trust. He probably has no reason to trust humans but approaches everyone he meets with an open hearted friendliness that makes him impossible to resist. Rico might not be the first dog you'd notice in a group but once he's won you over, and he will, you see the real Rico and there is no going back after that. He owns you and you find your loyalty mirroring his. For him, I am the sun, the moon and the stars, and he's a part of me, a part I will never let go. Come. What. May.

But Rico is changing. Seven short days ago, Leo, a little imp of a man joined our 'pack'. There is nobody in this world who would, or could, describe this little five and a half month old mini podenco, as understated. He burst upon the scene, shattering Rico's tranquillity with his effervescence, his joie de vivre and his mischievous sense of fun which only seemed to be stilled when he was asleep. The first 72 hours were uncomfortable for poor Rico, to say the very least. He kept his distance from me, from the sofa, from the bed. He didn't want to be anywhere near where the 'pocket rocket' was. When Leo went within a metre of him, he growled. Unfortunately, Leo's internal early warning system was constantly overridden by his desire to play and I had to push him away from Rico on several occasions, for his own safety. However, there is a beauty in knowing your own dog and I strongly suspected that this state of affairs was temporary. I only had to be calm and carry on as normal, and Rico would come round. The first breakthrough came out of the blue, whilst I was hoovering. The little guy was afraid and his instinct led him to seek protection from his own kind. He hopped up onto the rear of the dog bed where Rico and my princess were laying together. I carried on and observed out of the corner of my eye. Rico looked around at Leo and relaxed again. The little one had been given his first sign - it's ok kid, you can stay. This was of course a big step and I was quietly delighted. Three hours later, the step became a leap, as Rico allowed Leo to rest his head upon him, whilst he slept. A beautiful sight indeed and one which brought a lump to my throat and a tear to my eye. I was so proud of my podenco prince. We were winning. 

Two more days passed and I walked my boys together. It's wonderful to see two podenco noses disappear into the bushes and two podenco bottoms, side by side in the air, tails wagging furiously. My grin on these walks, was permanent. Almost all of us can relate to this feeling and I know many of you are nodding as you read. Passers by fell into two categories; those for whom no amount of explanation would elicit an understanding of this wondrous thing I was witnessing, and those who nodded a greeting of silent appreciation, dog lovers, no doubt about it.

Two separate occurrences this weekend have surpassed my even wildest expectations, swelling my heart with pride and love for my podenco prince. Yesterday afternoon, I had a visit from a friend and her small dog. Leo wanted to play and for a while the two of them ran around quite happily. Suddenly the mood changed and the other dog charged at Leo with a very different tone in his yappy little bark. I heard it but was too far away to grab either dog or get in between. It didn't matter. Someone else had heard it too. From nowhere, there he was, blocking the dog's path to little Leo. Ears up, body square, calm but very much in charge. Rico. To see one podenco protecting another smaller one in this way is a sight to behold. For a moment my friend and I were simply mesmerised by the sight before us. Neither of us spoke. I was so proud of how Rico reacted. He could have simply ignored it, but he didn't. He could have been aggressive but he wasn't. He was like a big brother in the school yard. The little one might well be a nuisance but he was damned if he was going to let him be picked on. The other dog slunk back to my friend and remained by her side. Job done. 

Today, something even more astounding. I was laying on my day bed, working. Rico was in his usual position by my side. He was awake but relaxed and laying on his back with his legs in the air. Leo was asleep by my feet. He stirred, stretched, stood up and walked the few steps to where Rico lay. He sniffed him all over and then licked his foot. 

Rico didn't move a muscle, completely content to lay in this exposed position and allow the little one to sniff him. I reached for my phone, not wanting to move too quickly and spoil this moment but not wanting to miss it. I managed to snap a couple of shots before Leo settled down to sleep again. Rico looked up at me and for a long moment our eyes locked. There's a new confidence in them and a calm contentedness I haven't seen there before. 

This is a dog with hidden depths, with so much more to give than first meets the eye. This is my podenco prince. 

This is Mister Rico and this is his story. So far. 

The Peculiar Power of the Podenco

It's like being hit in the face with a shovel. Totally unexpected. Elemental. Inconceivable. Excruciating. It puts me on my backside and robs me of my breath. I stare, unblinking at the image before me, as my mind fights for a foothold, desperate to make sense of the message being machine gun fired to my brain. The image stares back at me, daring me to look away. I don't. I can't. I'm paralysed. By disbelief. By horror. But most of all by the sheer beauty of the emaciated creature on my computer screen. As I sit there, I swear I feel the image being burned onto my soul. This is a moment that will change everything, my first visual encounter with a dog I don't recognize, a dog I have never heard of, a dog destined to become a part of my life, a part of me. This, is a podenco. 

I grew up with dogs. My first memories involve dogs. There was never a time when dogs were not a part of my life. Dobermans, Rottweilers, German shepherds and Weimaraners. Dogs, always dogs. Pedigree dogs. Knowing what I know now, I am almost ashamed to admit that I chose a dog for its breed, its temperament, its looks and its pedigree. 

That changed back in 2007 when we adopted a German shorthaired pointer bitch from Spain. She came as a companion to our grieving young Weimaraner who was sinking day by day following the death of his mate, and my soulmate, from an aggressive stomach tumour. I had thought my world would end when my beloved Marley died and at this stage I had neither the time nor the inclination to start again with a pup. A rescue dog was the obvious answer but if I'm honest, it was simply a solution to our immediate problem, rather than a desire to save a life. Back then, I knew nothing of the horrors faced by the hunting dogs in Spain. I had not yet seen behind the curtain.

I fell hard for this beauty. It was love at first sight for us both and she pulled us and our grieving boy out of our depression and gave us all a reason to carry on.

Fast forward six years. Princess Nala is still by my side but now we have a problem and find ourselves confronted with a legacy from her former life. She has Canine Leishmaniasis. My wonderful vet explains this illness to me but it's still just two words. I have to know more. I google these unfamiliar words and am immediately assaulted by horrific images and terrifying descriptions of painful deaths. Fortunately, I'm a hardy type and after the initial shock has passed, I immerse myself in this world, determined to find out all there is to know and determined that my princess shall survive. The Internet being what it is, it's easy to cover a lot of ground in a short time. This site, that link, this study, this group. I begin to realise that this illness is indeed survivable, it's only about the right treatment. I feel myself relax for the first time since the horrible ulcers appeared on her head and paws. Days pass and the medication starts to have a visible effect. She's getting better. She sits by my side as I continue to browse and then smack, out of the blue, there it is, my shovel in the face moment as I come face to face with my first podenco.

The photo was taken in what I now know to be a perrera, a killing station, and she is looking straight into the camera, looking straight at me. She is medium sized, a beautiful rust colour with just a dash of white at the end of her long tail, as if someone had dipped it in paint. She is so thin I can count her ribs with ease and her pelvic and hip bones are clearly visible. She looks like she has recently given birth and my mind darts in that direction - where are her babies? As devastated as her torso appears, she still somehow manages to stand proud and when I examine her face and head, that pride is confirmed. She has a longish face with a beautiful pink nose and her eyes are liquid amber. Never have I seen such expression in a dog's eyes. Dejection, fear, loss, despair are the first things I see but wait, look a little deeper, there too are hope, pride, intelligence, loyalty, love. Yes, love. I'm sure as I look at her that despite whatever has happened or will happen, she is still capable of love and of all those other positive things. Her body is broken but her spirit is not. And her ears, oh Lord those ears. Huge, proud, pointy ears which look more than capable of picking up radar transmissions. Beautiful. I stare at her, mesmerised. I have no idea what breed she is, none at all. For now, all I can do is stare at her. She has captivated me and I vow in that moment to find out all I can. I need to know. 

I think about her all day as I fight to concentrate on my work. It's not happening though and I close down my translation document and try to find the page where I saw her. I start to panic as I search through my history of the last 24hours. I must find her, I must. And then, there she is. I read about her. She's a podenco. I try out this new word. Podenco. Podenco. She's about two years old and has indeed given birth recently. The location of the pups is unknown. God! There are lots of comments under the story, all in German. I live in Austria and my German is good but it will never be my mother tongue. I go to Google UK and enter the word podenco. The number of results is overwhelming and many of them relate to podenco rescue. Rescue? From what?For almost 12 hours I sit and read. History, breed characteristics, the different types of podenco, their character. I look at photos, hundreds and hundreds of photos. I should be working but I can't stop reading. I pause only to walk and feed Nala. She remains by my side throughout. And then, halfway through the day, I venture onto one of the rescue sites. What I read there, what I see there is incomprehensible. The podencos, along with the galgos, are used for hunting. Many of the hunters abandon, torture or kill the dogs at the end of, or even during, the hunting season. The dogs are seen as objects with no soul, no feelings. They are born to be utilised and then simply discarded like rubbish. They are underfed and treated badly, chained up in either dark and squalid conditions or out in the open with no protection from the scorching sun or the cold and the rain. The hunters believe that this treatment sharpens their hunting instinct. Naturally, they are often proved wrong. Could you run if you were hungry, thirsty and exhausted. Could you?! I find myself constantly shaking my head, not only at the senseless cruelty but also at the flawed logic of these hunters (I refrain from referring to them as people). These beautiful, athletic, noble dogs are set up to fail from the beginning. Undernourished and mistreated from birth, under trained but overworked thereafter. It's mindless. And failure, I soon discover, comes at the highest possible price. The dogs pay for 'their' failure with their lives, and tragically this death is not quick and painless but often slow, torturous and lingering. I can't believe it. This is Spain in 2013. I stroke my princess as I read, now very much aware that as a hunting dog, her life also probably began this way. Six years ago she came to me without my knowing her history or her origins. Now her Spanish borne illness has led me to the truth. I've seen behind the curtain and it's now impossible to look away. My Spanish princess has led me to the podenco.

The weeks pass and I begin my search. That I would adopt a podenco has been a given from the very moment I set eyes on that beautiful girl. She is now safe with a new family and I'm on the hunt for the perfect match for me and my princess. It's not easy finding an organisation willing to let me adopt. Many of the dogs I'm interested in are with associations who have connections to the UK, Holland and Scandinavia but not Austria. Podencos are about as common as kangaroos here in Austria but at least everyone here knows what a kangaroo is. Eventually, I find a organisation based in Germany willing to take the risk of no real back up if it all goes wrong. I find my little podenco beauty and I'm over the moon. Sadly, it's not to be. Trust issues arise and after much soul searching, I withdraw from the adoption. I'm simply devastated. And then, Beverley Farmer, whom I had dubbed 'the pod lady' on account of her knowledge and years of experience with podencos, offers to let me adopt one of her available dogs for adoption. She has helped and advised me throughout my experience with the German organisation and it seems a bond of trust has developed between us. I'm blown away. Yes, I have now immersed myself in this world and I'm learning every day about the wonderful animal that is the podenco, but to be offered a chance to adopt from the pod lady herself, is an honour indeed. I'm determined that the podenco I choose for Nala and me, will have the best life I could possibly give him or her. The adoption process is flawless and with Bev's guidance I make my choice. Not that it's easy, there are three very different beauties whom I love on sight and I go round and round deciding which one. Eventually I settle on a five year old boy, who I name Rico, Mister Rico. He was with hunters and then with another rescue organisation before ending up in Bev's care in November 2012. Bev describes him as a perfect gentleman. The more I learn, the more pictures I see, the more certain I am that he's perfect for us and once my decision is made I nearly lose my mind waiting for him to begin his journey home. Several times I almost get in my car and drive to get him. Because Austria is off the beaten track as far as podenco adoptions go, I have to drive 600km into Germany to meet the transport traveling up from Spain. It's both the best and the worst drive of my life, I just can't wait a moment longer to meet my Mister Rico. And then suddenly there is the van and there he is. Another shovel moment and my friend has to give me a nudge to snap me out of my reverie. He is beautiful and I love him fiercely at first sight. Time proves that we have indeed made exactly the right decision. He fits seamlessly into our lives. He belongs to us and we to him. 

The pull of these dogs, the effect they have on your life, is difficult to put into words. Podencos are loving, calming, loyal, intelligent, elegant, athletic (but also couch potatoes), noble, gentle, playful, trusting. They are all these things but so much more. No list of adjectives can do a podenco justice. No long descriptive sentence, however emotional or beautifully written, can convey what it means to have a podenco in your life. As Dostoyevsky said, "...there is immeasurably more left inside than what comes out in words..."

A year ago I had never even heard the word podenco. Now it's part of my everyday vocabulary and I am committed to helping raise awareness of the breed and their plight. You will hear those who share their lives, sofas and beds with a podenco say again and again that you can't have just one. And they are right.  I now have not one but two of these beauties in my life as Mister Rico was recently joined by another of Beverley Farmer's rescues, Little Leo, a mini podenco pup rescued in the nick of time from a killing station. He's been with us just four days but I love him completely. He's part of our family now and family is everything. 

So what is it about podencos ? If you have a podenco by your side as you read this, you will know that one word is too many to define them, and a thousand words are not enough. Podencos have a presence, a lure, a peculiar power that can't be defined or explained. Podencos just ARE.

Alex Frederickson - October 2013.