My little rescue dog, Susie

I was reminded today of the procedure that was followed when we found our little dog, Susie, at an animal rescue organisation eleven years ago. We had got a puppy from a neighbour a few years before and decided to get a companion for him. I happened to ride past ...... and executed a sharp left turn on a whim as I saw the sign. It was as though something had swung the wheel on my behalf as I barely slowed down due to the impulsiveness of the decision to go in. I wandered past the cages and came to a large enclosure filled with every kind of mongrel - sounds better in Afrikaans - brak you could imagine. They rushed to greet me at the fence, barking excitedly, and I have to say it was not a nice experience. I can't bear animals in any kind of cage.

And then I noticed a little dog with the dirtiest matted coat - a kind of brown colour - just staring up at me, totally quiet, not joining in the hullabaloo. She just looked, almost as though she had given up being noticed. I immediately phoned HWCFA and told him I had found a companion for Monty and he rushed around from work to have a look. I think he was a bit taken aback at the state of her, but agreed that we should take her.

I went to the office to give them the good news and was surprised to hear that she had been in that cage for three months already. I couldn't believe that she had been left in that condition. I was even more surprised to hear that they wanted to inspect my home and garden for suitability before letting me take her, and nearly fell on my back when they wanted R200 for her. Obviously I had no idea how these things worked! Anyway, I arranged an appointment for them to inspect and said I would take her once she had been to the parlour and been completely shaved and cleaned up. They told me that she had been spayed when they first got her, as is their modus operandi.

Once I had been approved as a suitable owner (by viewing my fence and observing no unprotected water hazards), I went back to collect her. What a shock! She looked like a skinny rat, shaved bald but fortunately now a shiny white. She really did not look pretty. The matted hair had covered a multitude of sins, not the least of which was the fact that they had never taken her back to the vet to have the spaying stitches removed. Poor little dog. She was a bundle of nerves, cowering if you made the slightest sudden movement and sitting on the spot at a moderately raised voice. She had apparently been kept outside in a not very salubrious area and must have been starved (she still gobbles everything in sight after 11 years with us) and is so frightened by thunder that she can squeeze herself under our bed which is only a 4-inch gap and has to be given Rescue Remedy.

The most remarkable thing, though, was that she had never made one sound since I first saw her and I thought she was mute, but after two weeks in her new home, where she was allowed to sleep on the bed and the couch and any other warm and cosy place she fancied, she suddenly gave a little bark and we realised that it was trauma that had kept her silent. How sad that people can be so cruel.

I'm very happy that we have been able to give her a life of doggie luxury and security, and she has rewarded us by being the best possible watchdog and a good hot water bottle in winter.

The point of all this is to say that, if you are considering getting a pet, rescue doggies should be top of the list and given extra special treatment, by way of compensating the canine world for all the people who should never have been allowed to own an animal. They will reward you with companionship, security and undying gratitude.
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