The Power of Three

I watched with childlike curiosity as the Christmas posts began to appear. Podencos wearing Santa hats, galgos wearing reindeer antlers and little dogs wearing Christmas jumpers. After a dismal autumn, where in-fighting among individuals and groups seemed to be the norm, there seemed to be genuine festive spirit in the air, a sense of bona fide goodwill to man and beast alike. Those of you who have been following my story will know that I only stumbled into the world of Spanish dog rescue in February 2013. It was never my intention to become a part of it, my life was busy enough, full enough, challenging enough without it. If I'm brutally honest, my intention was to adopt a podenco and maybe hang around on the fringes, socialise with other podenco owners, when and if I had a little time. 

And yet here we are. It's January 2014 and my involvement is increasing. In the last 3 months I've started this blog, shaved my head to raise money for Beverley Farmer Podencos and published an article about podencos, in America's most serious dog magazine. In short, I'm committed to doing whatever I can to raise awareness of the podencos and their plight and to helping to spread the word about cruelty to animals in Spain.

So what changed my mind? Why didn't I adopt Rico and go my own way? I've never been someone who drifts along and follows the crowd and I've always preferred the real world to a virtual one so I really wasn't a big Facebook fan. The answer is simple. It was people who influenced my decision. To be precise, the attitudes and actions of three specific people are the reason I stayed and the reason I'm writing this. They all do very different things, they head up very different groups, but their dedication is absolute and their compassion is tangible. It is to them I would like to pay tribute with this posting.

Beverley Farmer Podencos (Podenco Friends) Murcia, Spain.

First up, is of course, Beverley Farmer. It was she who fuelled my podenco addiction and she who allowed me to adopt one of her precious rescue dogs when most other organisations hesitated because of the apparent lack of back up in Austria. I've got to know Bev quite well over the course of the last 10 months and she calls a spade a spade and makes up her own mind about everything and everyone. She knew full well she would find a way to catch Rico if it all went wrong but I also believe that I wouldn't have got anywhere near Rico if she thought she'd have to use her contacts to catch him if he fell. 

Those of you who have read my article in the Canine Chronicle this week, will know how Bev and Warren evolved from two people looking for a life of leisure in the sun, to two full time, hands on, puppy feeding, poop scooping, dedicated podenco warriors. For anyone who hasn't read it (yet), I will briefly summarise their transition. Ten years ago, Bev and Warren settled in Spain looking for fun and relaxation in the sun. They had a villa on the coast and life was rosy. They adopted their first podenco a couple of years after arriving, Tilly, a little girl found in a dumpster, a one off occurrence they thought. A few years later, Midas, their second podenco arrived and they thought they'd done their bit for adopting Spain's waifs and strays. And then, a call from a friend, a podenco beaten to within an inch of his life, bleeding, broken and tied to tree. Bev cradled him in her arms as he crossed the bridge and that, as they say, was that. From humble beginnings, taking a dog or two into their home, rehabilitating and re homing them, building contacts and developing a reputation across the world for their work with podencos, Podenco Friends was born. In their finca in mountains of Murcia (the villa went out the window along with their fun in the sun dream), Bev and Warren now have more than 20 adult podencos and nine pups which they have hand reared from their first week of birth. By now, most of us know the story of Alexa who was wandering in the mountains, pregnant and afraid. She gave birth to nine pups whilst volunteers searched for her for days. She sustained a serious injury, probably defending her babies from a wild boar, and was eventually found by the rescuers and brought to Bev. She's currently being looked after at Finca la Castellana and the nine babies are with Bev, being hand reared by Bev and Warren and being watched over by uncle Midas. 

Midas with his self appointed charges

As if all this wasn't enough for two people, they answered another desperate call last week. Another lost soul, a beautiful podenco ibicenco, a veritable bag of skin and bones, the worst case Bev, and probably many others, has ever seen. This girl, Jasira, will not lack for love, attention, care and experience but will require a lot of medical care to establish why she is so thin, why she has constant diarrhoea and whether she will, in fact, make it. After that it's a long and slow road back to health. Still, if I were a podenco in need, there is no place I'd rather be than with Bev and Warren. It is with them that she has the best chance.

Jasira - in the best possible hands

Amid the hands on care, there's work to be done promoting the cause. It's relentless, as relentless as the cruelty of many hunters. It's vital, as vital as the feeding of those nine beautiful babies. But it's working. The message is getting out there. Of late there has been a lot of interest from the USA and following my article in the Canine Chronicle, I'm happy to say that Bev is inundated with requests for information and the like from far and wide. It's good. It's all good. 

Soon, Bev and Warren will realise their dream. Podenco Friends will become a recognised association, their website will be live and their work will take on a new element, that of education. It's not enough to firefight in Spain. We need to educate, to inform and to enlighten. That is the future. 

In the last ten months I have watched these two go from strength to strength and they deserve every bit of the success they have achieved. I for one, stand firmly by their side. I'm proud to be a part of Podenco Friends and although 2000km away from the action, I'm determined to do whatever I can to help.

Thank you Bev, thank you Warren, from podencos and podenco lovers everywhere.

If you would like to make a donation to help with Jasira's care, with the care of the nine babies or with any aspect of Bev and Warren's tireless and oh so essential work, please paypal podencofriends@hotmail.co.uk

Jacqui Ross - Last Chance Animal Rescue (Malaga, Spain)

It's the end of March 2013. It's almost Easter. I'm on Facebook. I've just been chatting to Bev about the arrangements for Rico's transport. I come across a shared post. It's about someone called Jacqui Ross and it shocks me to my core. I've never heard of this lady before this moment and I've no idea what she does but I read the posting three or four times. I then sit back in shell shocked disbelief. After I've recovered myself, I share it too. It's a few days before Easter. The Spanish are big on catholic holidays and they want to close the perrera in Malaga over the whole holiday. That means they dispose of the old and sick and the unwanted dogs. In the cruelest way you can imagine. 

I didn't know Jacqui Ross back then but that post had a profound effect on me. I joined her group and I've watched her grow, I've watched her succeed, I've watched her laugh, scream, shout and cry. I didn't know Jacqui Ross back then but I do now. I will let Jacqui tell you her story, in her own words.

I have always..all my life from a small child been an animal lover...moving to Spain 10 years ago...brought a whole new world of loving animals to into my life....my work revolves around spending hours a day in the internet..which is where I became aware of the level of abused and abandoned animals here in Spain...In the beginning I was able to concentrate on fund raising for shelters as we had a bar and restaurant...and a holiday rental company...managing to raise aver 33.000 euros in 2 years. We sold our bar and restaurant in October 2012...and I concentrated on the rentals business...spending more and more time on Facebook. Joining rescue groups...1 in particular kept posting the same photo of a Yorkie in my local perrera...I offered to go and visit the perrera to check out the dog's details...and that was when I was consumed with the greatest feeling of desperation I think I have ever felt in my entire life...all those dogs...waiting to know what their fate would be...it was winter and they were all so sad, and cold and unwanted....I photographed everyone of their little faces and stroked them through the bars of their cages, how could such lovely dogs be in this place, waiting for either a kind person to choose them or to be put to sleep if no one did. The incinerator of the animal crematorium pumping out smoke in the background hit me like a bulldozer...I had to get off my backside and do something to highlight the plight of these poor dogs. I came home posted my first album of the dogs waiting to know their fate. This was the 25th February 2013...and I shared it everywhere...slowly people started contacting me about 1 or 2 particular dogs...asking me if I could help them get the dogs out and to the UK. I was terrified..I had no idea where to begin...but the private side of the perrera let me rent a kennel from them at 5 euro a night...so I adopted them in my name and moved them out of the perrera and into safety...I asked advice on transport and the procedure...and my first dogs arrived safely at their new homes...This continued...one by one..I was saving a dog at a time...some to Spain and some to the UK....the number coming out was increasing and friends were offering to help me, we raised some money to build 3 holding pens at my friends...and they suggested we needed a name and a Facebook group..and so Last Chance Animal Rescue was born. 

I go to the perrera everyday...with my camera, and have managed to strike up a good relationship of trust with the workers...who appreciate what I am trying to do for the dogs....I managed to have a few quality meetings with them and explained what a wonderful concept it would be to transform the public opinion of this pound from that of killing station to that of re homing....in principal a few basic changes needed to take place...a change of vet...as the current one was impossible to work with...a more open attitude to the public..with helpful smiling staff.

The vet was replaced within 2 weeks...we now have a wonderful vet...a vet who at last cares enough to treat the sick and is honest and open with me. Telling me when numbers are critical...tests and inoculations for contagious diseases are now available to buy and proper help and advice is readily available from the staff.

The group Last Chance Animal Rescue is growing daily and we have saved over 400 dogs since February 2013...our group members are the hardest working people..sharing and donating to help the dogs on a daily basis...we work closely with other rescues helping each other the best way we can...with over 40 dogs being taken out in the last 2 weeks leading up to Christmas. For every dog we take out we are in fact saving the lives of 2...making space in the adoption pens for another dog to be brought forward. 

This is my life now...I wake in the morning and spend every waking hour posting sharing and finding homes...whether foster, adoption or private boarding for as many dogs as is possible...I cannot take a day off...I do not want to take a day off...this has become my vocation, and I am proud to be a part of this great, ever evolving rescue...I have 8 dogs and 5 cats at my house...and many many more dotted all over the place...all safe and warm and loved...with a happy future in front of them thanks to the team work of our members from all over the world...On the 23rd December I took another 9 dogs out of the pound and into foster homes....Happy New Year to these babies...from Auntie Jacqui and the crew...but it is never ending...with so many more lives depending on us daily. 

An all too familiar sight for Jacqui. A beautiful dog hoping for her last chance.

Jacqui's organisation is very aptly named. For the dogs in the pound in Malaga, Jacqui Ross really is their last chance. I have watched as she has taken dogs out at her own expense because the funds are depleted and the dogs are sick or weak or have given up. This Christmas there were no killings at this perrera and I believe it to be no co-incidence. Jacqui never gives up but she's become a consumate professional rescuer in a short space of time. Her growing membership means that she is able to foster where necessary and then send the dogs on to their forever homes fairly quickly. I applaud her humour, her tenacity and her dedication. Jacqui, you're a one off, keep doing what you do!

If you'd like to make a donation to help Jacqui save more dogs from certain death, please PayPal lastchanceanimalrescue@hotmail.com

Viv Wharton - ACTIN Spain (Murcia, Spain)

A chance conversation with a friend led me to discover the work of another unique organisation. It's a brilliant concept. Here, rescuing dogs is not the primary goal, rather taking on those who abuse them and fighting for appropriate animal protection laws in Spain. Some of the stories I have followed this year have been nothing short of mind blowing and again, I have watched this organisation flourish, despite the scene in which it is set. This is the story of yet another lady who came to Spain to do anything but rescue animals, but ended up not being able to look the other way. This is Viv's story, in her own words: 

My first memories as a child were of wanting a dog, I used to drag around an old toy dog on a lead. He was green, stuffed with straw and I named him Beauty. On my 5^th birthday my grandmother got me a real dog called Patch, it was the happiest day of my 5 years of life and I doted on Patch.  I couldn’t bear to be parted from him and Patch was the same about me, he followed me everywhere. We lived in a village in Ireland and I was going to my first school. I hated leaving my little dog each day. One day, the school bus arrived and waited across the road for me. I ran out the door not realising that Patch had followed, he tried to get on the bus and the bus was tight against the verge; as it pulled away, Patch got pulled underneath the bus and was trapped. I could hear him crying and no-one would help and a teacher held on to me as I screamed. There was no compassion for the dog or for me. I will never forget that day at school, all day and I could only cry, they would not let me go home.  That evening my Mother told me Patch had gone to heaven. I asked if he could stay asleep in his bed and didn’t understand why he couldn’t, or where he could be. I visualised my little dog with wings of an angel and I held that in my heart to console myself for many years. It was my first broken heart. 

My second broken heart came in mid-life, after battling with aggressive breast cancer and losing my dear Mum to the horrible disease, after a 9 year fight, and 16 months later I was diagnosed with it myself. I fought it and won, so five years later and getting the thumbs up, I was devastated to discover my Husband was being unfaithful. We had recently bought a house in Spain to run as a retreat business between us, Pilates and Golf retreats that would perhaps be our retirement home eventually too. After the last few years of my life and the devastating blow I had recently discovered, I really wanted some peace in my life. I was a teacher, of Pilates and Yoga and it was my great love, so I decided to come and rest at the house and prepare for the first retreat. 

After a few weeks, I knew that the house was my opportunity to leave the marriage and make it easier for both of us by never returning. So, without any planning for the future, or knowledge of the area where the house was and unable to speak Spanish, I did a Shirley Valentine!!

The first few months with no income and nothing to live on, I wasn’t prepared for the discovery that I was in a place where there was no regard for animals. The village was rural and a farming community, there were dogs chained up outside chicken sheds, horses were kept in unacceptable conditions, dogs seemed to be in the village street without owners. At first I didn’t really acknowledge how bad it was, I saw things through a mist. One day I heard a cat crying really loudly, it was coming from the village bin, it was Sunday and it was full of debris, I assumed the at the cat had jumped in for some food and was trapped under the debris. I started to pull everything out but still the distressed meowing and no sign of the cat. In the end I threw the bin on its side and at the bottom was a supermarket carrier bag with a knot in it and that was the source of the sound. Shaking and crying I tore open the bag, to discover the bodies of 4 dead kittens and one still alive. I screamed so loud in horror but my neighbours just looked on, I ran to my next door neighbour, I knew she had a cat that had just had kittens, I asked if her cat could feed this one for us, just to keep it alive. I then realised that the kittens were from her own cat, she just turned her back and arrogantly ignored me. I was devastated that someone could do this. This was a drop in the ocean; I needed to get stronger.

I had already acquired 2 dogs from the previous owners of the house, who had left them behind, my beautiful Nina the pointer and Molly the German Shepherd, they already had their own sad story and soon there were to be more, many more.  

Puppies and kittens were outside my home very often, left to fend for themselves. Strange sad noises from dogs in the night, dogs on chains, then they would disappear and weeks later lying dead in the dry river bed, covered by a sack. In the summer months, no water, or food left for the chained dogs. Every time I went out I saw something, there were dogs lying dead or injured in the road. After a year of struggling in my new environment and trying to support myself financially I had met and fallen in love with my wonderful artist partner – poor and penniless we strove to make the business into a successful retreat but were hampered constantly, sometimes daily, by animals in trouble. There were so many heart rending stories, and we were both consumed with rescuing. The stress of it made me hate the place and eventually I stopped going out. For 6 months I was depressed and exhausted with rescuing animals and not being able to live a normal life or focus on my new partner and business.

Networking on Facebook had been a Godsend; I had homed numerous dogs but was finding it exhausting, stressful and had no resources to look after them. The final straw came with a cross Staffie dog called Toffee. He was thin, wandering around the village and each time I took my dogs out he would join us. 

He turned up with a leg injury one day and I knew it was time to get to safety but I could not bring him into my house as some of the other dogs didn’t like this boy. I just could not get help for him…in the end, we got him a foster home short term and eventually the wonderful Marina Lennartson from Desert Hearts kennels helped me out. He was there for 2 years, and in spite of them always being full to the hilt, they took great care of Toffee. We thought he would be impossible to home, however, now he is happily settled in a wonderful home in Exeter.

I saw all the charities trying to save the dogs and working but the amount of abandonment was much higher than the charities, rescuers and resources could cope with. I started asking, ‘surely this is not acceptable’? People are cruel, no-one is doing anything about it…but no-one was interested, they were too busy rescuing….After living for 4 years and feeling as though I was amongst a holocaust for dogs, I could bear it no longer and reached out again. ‘Does anyone want to do something about this situation’? The cure not the sticking plaster; I contacted lots of Associations and mentioned what I wanted to do. But honestly people did not believe anything can be done, some even said accept it; telling me you are living in their country, you cannot do a thing. But no way would I – I don’t accept cruelty to living creatures anywhere, being a certain nationality does not make that an excuse.

Then I met Maria, a vet on the outskirts of my village and who felt the same as me, and I started to meet more people who were interested in what I wanted to do. I really wanted to join another charity and make my goals a part of their Associations activities. But it was starting to look as though I needed to set up my own Association; it was the last thing I wanted. I had to run my business and focus on that; I had by now 7 dogs and the numbers ever increasing. So Maria and I set up Actin - Animal Care Treatment International Network, and the idea to bring many people together and build a platform to make awareness of the situation and try to find a way to help, to promote sterilisation and provide education about animal welfare in schools. 

(Sterilisation billboard photo)

That was in June 2012, but after about 4 months, I was frustrated. Maria had more experience than I in the understanding of the attitude’s, in some ways my refusal to accept the attitude and my naivety of what could be done was a blessing because I boldly pushed on in the firm belief that this could be done. If I had known then, what I know now, I may have given up!! Maria became frustrated with me; I would not listen to advice about accepting my neighbours' ways. Quietly working away at education, was not going to be enough, I couldn’t live with the cruelty around me without saying something and doing something.

Then I met Estefania, an Animalista and rescuer for 7 years in Spain, working by herself and saving many animals. We thought the same; we had the same goals and could not stay quiet about cruelty, so we joined forces. That partnership was to bring Actin to a place that I knew it needed to be and now I was getting stronger, along with Stef, Actin was going in the direction I knew it needed to be. We were starting to get more serious help from others too, people that realised what we were trying to do and had started to believe in us.

A case that I had known about for a long time involved a beautiful pointer, whom we called Rudy. He lived in a crude enclosure that could be seen from the road, he was desperate for love and for food and we and others had started feeding him, long before thoughts of Actin. 

Rudy - a turning point for ACTIN

His ignorant farmer owner had around 14 other dogs, all on chains, no shelter; a stale French bread stick every few days was their food. But Rudy was barely even given that, he never had water and he was totally ignored. Thin, covered in ticks and crying for attention when I or any of our group passed by and gave him a little food, his plight seemed hopeless.  We had tried to get him out once and had to return him, the Farmer’s son was the owner and Rudy was micro chipped…the owner didn’t even live anywhere near the area. I vowed to help Rudy when I set up the association and at last it was going to happen. Stef and I knew we had to focus on getting dogs out of terrible and troubled situations like Rudy’s and bringing their owners to justice, working on legal rights for animals and talking to cruel owners. Rudy had by now been in his predicament for around 2 years and his disgusting living conditions were now shared with 3 more dogs, one a female pointer who, inevitably, was pregnant. 

We had learned a lot by now, we were much more aware of the laws, and most of all we had a much greater awareness of how to deal with individual cases. We finally got Rudy and the rest out, with a legal agreement, a promise from the farmers of better treatment for the remaining dogs, which we planned to watch over. We took 6 dogs, one died soon after and the female pointer gave birth to 8 handsome pups who looked just like their dad, Rudy. All the dogs have now been adopted into wonderful homes.

Since then we have visited the farmer regularly, he now feeds the remaining dogs proper food, has lightened their chains and replaced rope with collars. He takes them to the vet and has had them all inoculated against rabies. He has provided crude shelter for some of the dogs and although it is far from perfect, it is much better than before. This owner needed encouragement and a little persuasion and education. 

The shock of having to find funds for all of the dogs and then so many more, made us realise that we needed to grow, we needed to shout about what we intended to do for there to be any impact and that is exactly what we do. Now we have a thick file of successful rescues, some similar to Rudy’s case and some far worse with prosecutions pending. We have support from the local Seprona, the arm of the Guardia civil that is responsible for animals and we have policeman friends who care, support and are there for us in tricky situations.

At the moment we are tackling our biggest case yet, a privately owned company, with a pound that has contracts from town halls far and wide. Places like these are not in the interest of the animals, only for profit. There are many all over Spain. This one is on our doorstep and now the many things that happen there, that are cruel and unacceptable, must stop. Dogs are left in there without any basic care and many people have testified about cruelty and irregular, unlawful things against the animals. We have already taken 23 dogs from here and many are sick. We are working with another local Spanish Association, to bring justice and if we are successful, we hope this will be a stepping stone to get the pound/perrera situation in Spain improved.

Then, we will tackle our plan for the hunting dogs problem – ‘the shame of Spain’, in fact there are so many shameful happenings in Spain and people have no idea to the extent.

My heart has now been broken 1,000 times by the cruelty I have witnessed and dealt with, but we will never give up until we see real change.

Actin has a file now of many cases dealt with and can prove our passion and determination. With the right support, our anti cruelty campaign will get the lift it needs to raise this off the ground, we just need to get the confidence of more of the people who care, to show we can do it.

A proposed anti cruelty campaign poster

People can help and support by joining us as a member on the website. We are still learning and still striving to reach our goals, so members will be on that journey with us. There are many other associations in Spain working tirelessly for this cause. Actin is the link to bring the Ex-pats who have felt helpless against the situation, together, to give them a voice, to give the people outside of Spain, a chance to help and to make Actin stronger, an international presence within Spain, to help this massive uphill battle and to fight, alongside those that want to make a difference. 

I admire Viv's work and determination enormously but more than anything I admire her courage. How many of us would wish to come face to face with cruel and often angry animal owners in an unfamiliar land with an unfamiliar language? Many of us say we want to be the voice of those who cannot speak for themselves. Help Viv and her team to speak for the defenceless. Help ACTIN be that voice.

If you wish to make a donation to ACTIN to help Viv fund the many vital projects she has ongoing, please PayPal admin@actin-spain.com

Three very different causes. Three very different personalities. One goal unites them - to ease the suffering of animals in Spain. Ladies, you are the reason I didn't, couldn't, walk away after I had adopted Rico. You stopped me in my tracks. You are, the power of three. I salute you.

Alex xxx

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