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.