Boxer Rescue (UK)
Newsletter
December 2000
For those people who say to me "I'd love to do what you do", take my advice and think again! Working on rescue is exhausting, both physically and mentally. Not only are you working to help the dog, you are also acting as an intermediary between old and new owners, and more often than not you end up being messed around, frustrated, angered and made to look a fool - sometimes the lot in one go!
GEORGE and JESSICA are a typical case. Their owner was not even living in the same house as them. The dogs were living in a small toilet inside the house, and only let out to eat and do their jobbies in the yard, after which they would be shut away again until the next time their owner went back to the house.
In cases like this, you have to be diplomatic and not say what you would like to say. The welfare of the dog is more important than winning an argument - or risking an assault! A home was found for both dogs - together - but when the owner was contacted he decided to keep them, telling me I was 'making' on them!
If the day ever dawns when the rescue vet bill is down to a reasonable debt, when Boxer Rescue doesn't owe me and Brian money, and is keeping the Boxer Rescue account bank manager smiling, then we could rightly be accused of working on rescue to make a profit - not before! No-one in their right mind would work the hours we do for Boxer Rescue - for nothing, but we do it whilst we can manage it - personally and financially.
Anyway, a heated owner refused to release the dogs, so that was that. A fortnight went by before the owner rang again, this time wanting us to find them a home - no trouble promised! Collected, it was soon apparent that the dogs were in need of socialisation and rehabilitation. They are not showing aggression to other dogs here or outside whilst being walked, but it is obvious that their being confined in a small toilet for much of their lives with only food to look forward to, has left them bewildered and on a steep learning curve to such niceties as a running stream to drink out of or splash in, mud to roll in or plaster all over me, and toys to play with. Both would benefit from being separated, and allowed to lead real doggy lives, as a Boxer should be able to. If you think you would like to give one of these nice dogs a home please get in touch. They should be ready for rehoming just after Christmas, all being well.
BE SAFE OVER CHRISTMAS!
- HOLLY - can cause nausea, vomiting, diarrhoea and
lethargy.
- MISTLETOE - can cause gastrointestinal upset, as
well as cardiovascular problems.
- CHRISTMAS TREES - the needles can cause stomach upsets
and oral pain. If your tree is in water, this may contain fertiliser,
and should it become stagnant over the holiday will become a breeding ground
for bacteria, so don't let your dog drink from the container.
- POINTSETTIAS - can irritate your dog's mouth and
trigger nausea and vomiting.
- OVER-INDULGENCE - okay, not something you think of in dogs over Christmas. Turkey bones can rupture the gut, leading to expensive surgery or even death. Too much rich food, like leftovers from your meals, can trigger diarrhoea attacks. Alcohol will make a dog dehydrated, and may cause vomiting, not too mention unsteadiness! If alcohol is consumed, give the dog plenty of water and take him for a walk to clear his head. A dog with a hangover is not recommended!
At the end of a long day!
WALKIN' IN A DOGGIE WONDERLAND
Dog tags ring, are you listenin'?
In the lane, snow is glistenin'.
It's yellow, NOT white - I've been there tonight,
Marking up my winter wonderland.
Smell that tree? That's my fragrance.
It's a sign for wand'ring vagrants;
"Avoid where I pee, it's MY pro-per-ty!
Marked up as my winter wonderland."
In the meadow dad will build a snowman,
following the classical design.
Then I'll lift my leg and let it go Man,
So all the world will know it's mine-mine-mine!
Straight from me to the fencepost,
flows my natural incense boast;
"Stay off of my TURF, this small piece of earth,
I mark it as my winter wonderland."
Author Unknown
'Twas the night before Dog-mas, and all through the pound,
Not a puppy was crying or playing around.
Our leashes were hung by our cages with care,
In hopes that St. Bernard soon would be there.
The dogs were curled up all snug in their beds,
While visions of doggie treats danced in their heads.
When outside the room there arose such a clatter,
My ears perked right up to hear what was the matter.
Away to the window I jumped up with glee,
And barked at the shadows cast by the tree.
The glow from the moon changed night into day,
And started me thinking, "Woof, woof, time to play".
When, what with my puppy-dog eyes did I see,
But a splendid dog-sled, led by doggies like me!
With a regal furred driver, directing through the yard.
I yelped to the others, "That must be St. Bernard!"
More rapid than greyhounds, our saviors they came,
And we barked and we howled and called them by name.
"There's Duchess! And King! There's Chance, and now Buffy!
On Fido, On Scooter! On Rover, and Scruffy!
Go by the red hydrant and run past those trees!
Nothing can stop you, not even some fleas!
As puppies at play chase after a stick,
And race to their masters so loving and quick.
So out in the field all his canines they flew,
Catching the treats that St. Bernie threw.
And then in an instant I heard the sweet sound,
Of the scratching and clawing of each little hound.
As I pulled in my nose and was turning around,
In through the door St. Bernard came with a bound!
He was dressed all in fur from his head to his tail,
His wood sled adorned with an icing of hail.
A bag of chew toys he had brought in with him,
And his mouth was turned up in what looked like a grin.
His eyes, how they twinkled!
His ears flopped, how merry!
His coat shone like mahogony, his nose like a cherry!
The stump of a bone he held tight in his teeth,
And his collar encircled his neck like a wreath.
He had a large face and a round furry belly,
That shook when he barked, like a bowlful of jelly.
He was cuddly and plump, a big loveable pooch,
And I laughed when I saw himand gave him a smooch!
From the wink of his eye and the wag of his tail,
We knew right away we'd have homes without fail.
He barked not a sound, but went straight to his deed,
And took down our leashes that soon we would need.
He threw open the door - our new families stood there,
With children, all smiling, and much love to spare.
He leapt to his sled, to his team gave a call,
And away they all flew as if chasing a ball.
But I heard him exclaim, as he chewed on a bone,
"Happy Dog-mas to all and to all a good home!"
Permission to use granted by
Rachel Osborn of
Greater Ohio Boxer Rescue, USA
A BOXER RESCUE CHRISTMAS POEM
'Tis the night before Christmas and all through the town,
Every shelter is full - we are lost but not found.
Our numbers are hung on our kennels so bare,
We hope every minute that someone will care.
They'll come to adopt us and give us the call,
"Come here, Max and Sparkie - come fetch your new ball!!
But now we sit here and think of the days,
We were treated so fondly - we had cute, baby ways.
Once we were little, then we grew and we grew,
Now we're no longer young and we're no longer new.
So out the back door we were thrown like the trash,
They reacted so quickly - why were they so rash?
We jump on the children, don't come when they call,
We bark when they leave us, climb over the wall.
We should have been neutered, we should have been spayed,
Now we suffer the consequence of the errors THEY made.
If only they'd trained us, if only we knew,
We'd have done what they asked us and worshipped them, too.
We were left in the backyard, or worse - left to roam,
Now we're tired and lonely and out of a home.
They dropped us off here and they kissed us good-bye,
"Maybe someone else will give you a try."
So now here we are, all confused and alone,
In a shelter with others who long for a home.
The kind workers come through with a meal and a pat,
With so many to care for, they can't stay to chat.
They move to the next kennel, giving each of us cheer,
We know that they wonder how long we'll be here.
We lay down to sleep and sweet dreams fill our heads,
Of a home filled with love and our own cozy beds.
Then we wake to see sad eyes, brimming with tears,
Our friends filled with emptiness, worry, and fear.
If you can't adopt us and there's no room at the Inn,
Could you help with the bills and fill our food bin?
We count on your kindness each day of the year,
Can you give more than hope to everyone here?
Please make a donation to pay for the heat,
And help get us something special to eat.
The shelter that cares for us wants us to live,
And more of us will, if more people will give.
Boxer Rescue (UK)
E-Mail: bxarsq@aol.com
November
2000 Newsletter
