Racing against time, coming up a tad short

Well, with my hectic life, no surprise that I missed my evening date at the Dartmouth courthouse. That my computer would give out a few hours earlier was not to be predicted, however (except perhaps by Murphy's Law faithful). Arriving seven minutes late due to that struggle, I found they had called all the names to check attendance, and dismissed my case already, before calling any cases. Fortunately, however, a friendly court official assured me I could refile the application in the morning and get a new date. So that's what I'll do. He said he thought the date would be sooner than later.

The bigger problem is what to do about my computer. I don't relish that at all - hours of phoning customer service, etc. etc.

But at least tomorrow is the welcome moment of the week, a bright spot of Brindi, always a boost that strengthens my resolve to keep working to get her back. And I am looking forward to Thursday, to hear some beautiful music and be among friends, old and new.

Racing time and mind

It's well into August, and I fear I've left the blog sitting idle too long. Weeks flee by like fugitives, marked only by my Wednesday visits, brief "supervised" moments with Brindi, after which I do several hours of errands. Otherwise, good or bad, I rarely emerge from the house. And for all that time, I can't seem to get through the growing list of things to be done. An electrician I had to call recently - to help stop the power company from cutting me off, after somebody apparently falsely reported a "dangerous situation" - asked me, "Don't you ever go anywhere?" Not really.

Finally it's summer, after a horrible, horrible winter. I glimpse the baseball games in the park behind my house from my bathroom window. On game days, for the past three years, I'd normally be out strolling the grounds with a dog, Howard or Brindi, and then both of us would hang out with the local team afterwards in their clubhouse. But not this year. I've all but forgotten that I live a few miles from a beautiful deserted beach; the drive down in the car alone, with no warm snout pressing into my shoulder, is no fun, just as a walk through the woods alone holds no interest for me anymore. As a result - naturally, I'm flabby, tired, and pale.

Haven't blogged for many reasons, and no reason at all. Much of the time, there are plenty of things I'd love to write about, but some of them are best left un-blogged - the risk outweighs the communicative purpose and whatever therapeutic benefits I gain from the exercise. Lately, I haven't even felt communicative at all; what is there to say? An entire year has come and gone, a year from hell, that won't end. I don't dare reflect on it any further, for fear of setting off a dozen roadside bombs in my head. Instead I work with images, like this one, which ended up on a t-shirt I tried to give to my favorite Beatle; hopefully, he received it. When I posted the same image on Facebook, suddenly people were asking where they could buy it, so a friend helped me put it on Cafepress.com.

I spend the brief time I am alloted with Brindi each week outside in the pen at the SPCA shelter, in sun or drizzle, taking cover under a tent they put up. I notice Brindi has gotten accustomed to me leaving: she now stands a few feet back from the gate with an expression of a hostess seeing off a guest. She learns quickly; she's adapted as best as she can, in her sporting, willing-to-please way, winning over even the toughest, and she has no idea that she is not supposed to be there. No use trying to get that across, it would only upset a person. I groom her and have been gently introducing the idea of a toothbrush to try to tackle the mess her teeth and gums have become. She licks at the toothpaste, actually meant for cats (but dogs love every sort of food for cats), and after the third time she let me get a good brushing on her canines before wriggling away. Her gums still bleed at the slightest thing - grabbing a toy or chewing a treat.

The Paul McCartney concert was the one notable exception of the whole summer, an occasion for me to leave the house for something other than groceries, court, lawyer interviews or meetings, or other Brindi-related business. In a word, the concert was amazing, truly amazing, no less for the number of ecstatic young (25 and below) people surrounding me who knew all the words, as for the perfection and endurance of the man himself, playing for a good three hours with a fabulous band, including two - or three? - lengthy encores. Just incredible. I stood for over six hours and hardly felt it, even the next day. Still - somehow, it was still hard to get really excited about it, as I did when I was 16 at the Wings Concert in Detroit. This time I was far closer to the stage, and even got a few great pictures (like this one), but the excitement and pleasure were numbed by the way I feel these days, or the way I don't feel - I submerge pain, dread and grief with great effort, and this does not allow joy to seep in very far, even the joy of seeing the 20th century's best musician and songwriter (in my humble opinion).

I now have a court date for the "trial", October 13, rather surprisingly: it seems the court must have been prepared, possibly setting aside this day. The day the date was set (July 15), every bench was packed and March was the date handed out to others. In fact it was so packed (at least 50 people plus about ten lawyers lining the walls), I took the opportunity to hand around the petition. There was an air of solidarity all of a sudden; people were quite willing to sign. Worried about speeding tickets or worse, they were quite stunned when they learned why I was there.

There is truly a sense of solidarity in my immediate community that belies the perception, or misperception, too eagerly circulated in online comments, that my neighbors all want Brindi dead, or at least shipped off somewhere. Most recently the contrary was articulated by the kind woman who rented me a storage unit up the road last Friday. I am using it to store the 20 custom-made wood windows that should have, and would have, long since been installed in my house, had this ordeal not happened. She and I exchanged several phone calls over the last two weeks, as I had to reschedule a few times. She was friendly but I wasn't aware she knew anything about me. When I saw her I realized she was the wife of the local tow truck operator - a man who fished me out of more than one scrapes with my old car through the last two horrible winters, often with her by his side. They live close by, pass my house daily. I forget what a small place this is, in my isolation, so I was a little surprised, when, as my friend and I started loading the windows into the little storage space, the woman asked me, in her great Quebec accent, "When do you think you'll get your dog back? I think it's terrible what they have done." She assured me that many, many people here in East Chezzetcook were on my side. She referred to the way they feel about "them" (the Halifax authorities, I assumed) with disapproval and some derision. I dare say many longtime residents here view HRM's treatment of me and Brindi with the same resentment they feel toward the annexation or regionalization of these smaller communities into the Halifax Regional Municipality (an organizational entity whose logic still escapes me - why a municipality (town) would become a region, eschewing the customary metropolitan area of a city). The loyalties to localities will always be stronger when it comes to certain things.

In any case, it was good to hear her encouraging words, along with the electrician's. He is also a neighbor, living just down the road. He had met Brindi a few times, and regards her as anything but "cross", the local term for a dangerous dog. I am greeted with same head-shaking reaction at the Porter's Lake hardware store, where another neighbor works, and at the bank, where the sympathetic receptionist always asks me how Brindi is doing. Earlier this summer, the former president of the local Lion's Club stopped his car in the road for a good while when he saw me out front, ignoring traffic to express his own disbelief and disapproval. It is over the top, and I guess people are ready to say so.

After he sent a second letter calling for an end to the "nonsense" to his fellow HRM councilors in June, deputy mayor David Hendsbee told me he got an angry letter from one of my neighbors. But it turns out that the person who sent it actually lives in Lower Sackville, a good 45-minute drive away from our constituency. "Well, in that case, I guess I don't have to bother to write back!" Hendsbee said.

Doubtless, there are those in the area willing to join her. I have to wonder how many of them have heard false rumors that Brindi has bitten people or destroyed dogs. The woman with the storage units was adamant that the majority want to see me get her back, and my friend felt the same; I don't doubt it, actually. The thing is, as is true in so many cases, the many are relatively quiet, while the few that have a negative view tend to be loud. Fortunately, the Chronicle Herald has chosen to publish four letters recently, all calling for Brindi's immediate return. Two even proposed that the city reimburse me for legal fees, a welcome idea as far as I'm concerned, and not unreasonable, given that the city's failure to provide a bona fide appeal process and its by-law's sweeping definitions of "dangerous", etc., forced me to have to hire lawyers and go to court. It certainly was not my preference, to risk understatement.

!!!!!NEWS NEWS NEWS NEWS!!!

This coming week: a long-awaited benefit concert, at The Company House - which opened in Halifax last February - on August 13, with tickets priced at $10.

The performers include rising stars Andrea Somers, Ria Mae with Margot Durling, Bruce Stewart (all folk/singer-songwriters), and a new Beatles tribute band, Hard Day's Night.

Bruce's song, "Take Me Home", which he wrote some time ago, says it all, in my opinion...

I owe this touching show of support to Kelly Gray and the owner of the club, and all those helping with PR, and of course, the musicians themselves. I just can't believe the day is already here - in my mind, time is at a standstill; in my mind, it's still February.

Brindi Road: It's Getting Better All the Time

Don't forget me, Brindi, my dear... 

She's not a sheepdog, but I am pretty sure Sir Paul would like Brindi if he met her. 

Big concert tonight: thanks to some generous friends, I'll be there!!! To get to see him wice in a lifetime is surely more than anybody can expect. 

For some weird reason, Haligonians have not bought out all the tickets for the concert tomorrow night. (Could it be their enduring love for the seal hunt outdoes their love of good music?) Still, it's the only Canadian city on his tour  - and the first time ever in Halifax. 

Oh well - more space for the rest of us!

(I figure, if the mayor can do it, so can we!!)

Three Hundred and Forty-four Days

Brindi, my sweetheart, the love of my life
When they took you to prison it cut like a knife.
What could you have done to be locked up so long - 
Three Hundred and forty-four days you've been gone.
The walls that surround you, stones heavy on my heart,
Your breath I can feel from sunlight to dark.

I miss you like the air I can hardly breathe,
Three hundred and forty-four days I have grieved.
I beg and I plead yet for your release
Back into my arms so we both can find peace,
Walk together again in joy, far and wide.
Still those coldhearted walls keep you imprisoned inside.

My Brindi, my angel, I will not let you go
Your name is engraved on my soul, as you know.
I will shout your story for all to see
Three hundred forty-four days: cease counting and be
The answer to the question good people demand
Why is Brindi not back in my arms, on my land.

“Bring Brindi home!” shall be writ in the sky.
No prison can silence this message, I cry!
Three Hundred and forty-four days, far too long;
Come home sweet Brindi, to where you belong!
Sweet kisses and hugs, we must have them back:
My Brindi, my sweetheart, our souls under attack.
Without you my Brindi, without you my love,
Three hundred forty-four nights, no moon of hope above.

May the waves of devotion you send to me
forge a key with my love that will set you free,
I pray to the heavens this summer’s eve.
Brindi, I promise, you never to leave,
You'll be back with me and on the beach we will run,
Tomorrow's yesterdays have already begun.
Three hundred forty-four days - now, let them be done!

May God bring Brindi home, where she belongs!

With love to you and Brindi
from Carol Henderson

New Tag with St. Francis and the Pope

The St. Francis medal that I put on Brindi's collar in April broke off soon afterwards, sadly. It probably got worn down by the chain I wore it on around my own neck, for the nearly ten months I wasn't allowed to see Brindi. I looked and looked, but could not find a sturdier replacement. The practical solution was to make Brindi's new license tag, which I got a while ago, into a St. Francis medal, by having it engraved.

As my weekly Wednesday visit was postponed, due to Canada Day, I put her new tag on her collar today. The numbered side says her name, and on the reverse, "Holy St. Francis, Bless & Protect Me."

Oh, and by the way: this is a license for a spayed adult dog, i.e., a normal license. It cost $15, if I recall correctly. Why mention this? Well, according to By-Law A300, all dangerous dogs (as declared by an animal control officer or a judge) must be entered into the municipal registry.

It seems the city has not classified Brindi in its "dangerous" registration category, all efforts to kill her notwithstanding.  Had they entered Brindi into this category, I would have been charged $100 for her license. It is up to the city to do this; all I did was follow the instructions to renew Brindi's registration. The rest was up to them.

So, two very interesting questions come up. First, since she is not classified as dangerous, why is she is she still in the pound, slated to die? It would be a bit late, if not embarrassing, for HRM to re-classify her now, seeing as I just pointed it out to them. 

But, even if they were to do this, the very existence of an HRM license for dangerous dogs indicates that it is possible to legally own a dangerous dog in HRM (doubtless with certain conditions). So the logical conclusion is that HRM does not automatically kill all dogs deemed dangerous. The second question is, if Brindi were classified and licensed as dangerous, why is she still in the pound, slated to die?

The fact is, I was told to renew her license and I did so without any problem. I have no idea how this was possible given HRM's insistence that she is dangerous, not to mention the prosecution's insistence on euthanization.

I can only keep praying that St. Francis will bestow Brindi his protection, to match the inscription on her "normal dog" license. Maybe, just maybe, with that noble saint's guidance, all the contradictions arising from A300 will cancel themselves out, and my dog can finally come home, before a year is over. The time is running out: July 24 approaches fast. 

Brown Eyes

I saw brown eyes that twinkle so bright
Realized in an instant, they are why we fight
They have no savings, no interest in stocks
Just running amuck with my new white socks

Barking and playing, their spirits free
Money? That question belongs to me
Would I give them up for a big screen TV
Or walk away from them for the wealth I see?

Brown eyes, little paws and a soft fur coat
Rather a stroke and a pat, than a big fancy boat
Cuddles, kisses, and a lifetime of love
I think this is wealth sent down from above

These treasures I have, so priceless and good
Turned my attention to what is best understood
You can't take it with you and never can,
Best stay with your friends and keep making that stand
To fight for their freedom and never give up
I'd rather stay broke than give up these Pups

So when time seem hard and the bills pour in
There's plenty of room in that old rusty bin
I saw brown eyes and all I can do is grin
This precious work is worth more than that diamond ring

I have wealth abundant just not in an account
Surrounding me daily, best friends on whom I can count
Extreme joy, laughter, and a whole lot of love
Brown eyes, heavenly pennies, from heaven above
I have riches forever, brown eyes, you're so loved!

sent to me, and written, by Carol Bowman Henderson, of New Mexico

posted with her permission. See her beautiful video about death row dogs here.

"Anytime we allow ourselves to be bullied, every time we pass by an evil and ignore it - we lower our standards and allow our world to be made that much harsher and unjust for us all." - Public Advisory, Free Gaza, June 25, 2009

Questions and answers

Posted with permission of the authors.

 ----- Original Message ----- 

From: "Stanley Coren"
To: "Mary Cooke"
Sent: Wednesday, June 24, 2009 6:26 PM
Subject: Re: Can you please answer these serious questions?

Dear Mary Cooke

Here are the brief answers to your questions.

Chewing on raw beef bones does keep the dogs teeth clean and healthy.

If the teeth have turned bad you must go to a veterinarian.

A dog should not be allowed to jump on people.

Dogs do get depressed when separated from their owners. Occasional

visits from the owner tends to lift their moods but may result in

renewed depression when the owner leaves.

Dogs only need to be bathed when they are dirty.

Overweight and lack of exercise can shorten the life of the dog.

Cordially

Stanley Coren, PhD, FRSC
Department of Psychology
University of British Columbia
2136 West Mall
Vancouver, Canada V6T 1Z4
------ End of Forwarded Message


----- Original Message -----
From: Mary Cooke
To: drcoren@stanleycoren.com
Sent: Wednesday, June 24, 2009 6:08 PM
Subject: Can you please answer these serious questions?

I would like to know what effect it will have on a dog if the owner gives it a raw beef bone for it's teeth but it is taken away from the dog & now it's teeth are very bad?

Should a dog be taught to jump on people & why?

What damage can be done by the separation of dog & owner for say a year & only one short visit a week that started a couple of months ago?

What harm if any can be done by not bathing a dog except maybe twice a yr.?

Also what harm can there be if a dog is overweight & little or no exercise?

What would the concern be if the dog is six years old?

Thank-you,

Mary Cooke

PS - I need the answer quickly as possible

------ End of Forwarded Message

Some of Dr. Coren's books are :
How To Speak Dog
Why does My Dog Act That Way?
How Dogs Think
Why We Love The Dogs We Do
The Intelligence of Dogs
The Left-Hander Syndrome
& The Pawprints of History

Dr. Stanley Coren is a professor of psychology and animal behaviorist.

ELEVEN MONTHS

Tomorrow is the eleventh month anniversary/badiversary of Brindi's seizure.

She has made it through all these months, six of them without seeing me at all, being the good-natured girl she really is. She is putting up gracefully with the situation but the signs of strain are unmistakable. 

Today, my city councilor, David Hendsbee, hopes to get a vote through on a resolution to add an appeal process to By-Law A300. I believe he proposed that a committee of five councilors be formed for this purpose. It would be a good way to make up for one of the bigger problems in the current system, so that an owner doesn't have to pay a fortune to go to court. It would be even better if the panel was made up of people with knowledge about dogs and dog behavior, rather than councilors, as is the case in many other cities, and since the councilors are not impartial. However, any kind of appeal would be a step in the right direction!!

There would have to be additional provisions as well, I imagine, such as restrictions on the amount of time, whether there can be an appeal of the committee's decision, etc. so that no dog has to spend eleven months and more in a pound. 

Meanwhile I have not heard yet from the SPCA whether I will be able to see Brindi tomorrow. 

I want to have her moved to a more suitable facility. I think it is high time. 

Postscript: checking the council meeting agenda online I did not see anything about Hendsbee's resolution... not sure why.

Transgression of the day

Today I went to the shelter/pound/SPCA and gave my dog a bone. 

For that transgression, I have risked never being allowed to see her again. 

I really don't understand so I cannot explain. I have asked. All I am told is that this transgression is apparently defined in the 12 conditions as "no high-value items." Who knew?? All I could think of was an iPod, or a heating pad... ??? 

If you accept bones for 10 months, who would dream that you were not really accepting them? 

If you mean bones, why don't you please write "no bones"?

Raw beef bones happen to be cheaper than any dental bone or smoked bone or whatever - and they happen to be Brindi's chew of choice. Why the deception? Why not a discussion? 

I just do not understand: I thought they said they were taking excellent care of my dog. 

Glimpses, precious moments June 3

Taken by somebody passing by, when I was not there. She's finding shade, not a lot of comfort, no company. 

At some point on every visit the same thought goes through my mind: I have to ask, I have to remember to ask them, can't I just live there with her? 

Sorry, but I have a big bone to pick with the SPCA

When I cry, even a little, my cats jump off the bed and vanish. I am crying now, soon after waking up today, because consciousness brought me back to what happened yesterday. 

It may seem like a tempest in a teapot to a lot of people. But something as simple as a bone can mean life or death to a dog. And you can't ever take it for granted that somebody will do what they say. This is what I wrote to friends after my weekly visit to Brindi yesterday:

 At the end of my visits with Brindi, I give her a fresh juicy bone, her favorite treat, to distract her when I leave and give her something to do in her cell. I was bringing Brindi bones on a regular basis for the past 10 months. As I drove away from the shelter without her, crying my head off each time, I could at least console myself that she had a little pleasure, remembering how she could demolish a bone in record time. After the "ban" (imposed only because I asked to see her), a few helpers took over for a while. In December, when I heard about Jeff de la Rosa's dog Stu, whose teeth were in bad shape after three years in a pound, I felt assured this would not happen to my dog, thanks to the bones I brought. I was wrong.

Today at the SPCA I had a big shock. I saw the shelter manager take the fresh beef bone right out of Brindi’s mouth, right in front of me. Of course, Brindi, being the dangerous dog that she is, sat obediently and allowed her to do it, making only one symbolic try to get it back when it was dangled in front of her face - no growling, no threatening, no locking on to it!!!

This happened right after this woman said “No high value items, hun!” What high value?? $1.80 for two bones?? What are you talking about? Why can't she have it? No answer. I asked five times, she ignored me. Then she said, “If you want me to give you an appropriate treat, I’ll give you one.” Appropriate? Excuse me?? I said, this is MY dog, I will and can decide what is appropriate, I own this dog! Then in horror I asked if they had been taking away all the bones I brought in all this time – and not giving her the extras in packs I brought - no answer. Obviously, that is exactly what has been happening. My own eyes told me so, because her teeth are such an atrocity. But they say they love her and I just could not believe they would walk her away with a bone in her mouth, a happy camper, and then take it away when she was out of sight! I could not believe the desk girls would politely accept a whole package of bones, promising to give them to Brindi every day!! Is this what they think is right? Is this how they treat dogs they love?

On my first visit in April I noticed Brindi’s teeth were in bad shape - big encrustations, calcium deposits, black and brown stains, plaque everywhere, even in her bottom front teeth, the tops - black. The first visit, her gums bled after she fetched a plastic frisbee two times. So I doubled the effort to bring more bones, and in May, summoned the courage to ask if her teeth could be cleaned. Apparently they are worried because she has to go her under full anesthesia – a risk to them. The real danger is the release of the bacteria scrapings which can cause organ damage, or get to her heart, cause a staph infection, and kill her. And she could lose teeth to cavities or gum disease. None of this would be a concern now if they had just given her the bones.

Every time I dropped them off (even risking arrest, during the ban) and asked politely if they would give them to Brindi, the staff and volunteers would say yes, okay, fine, no problem. Not once did they say she can’t have them. Whether they ever gave her any bones, or just tossed them, I’ll never know. But I have brought a lot of them, and her teeth should be in much better shape. Forget the wasted money; no money can restore her teeth to their former condition. They are not obviously not giving her any “appropriate” substitute, because they would not be this bad.

The fact is, she does not like artificial bones. And I learned the hard way that rawhide was no good; she threw up and had diarrhea for five days. A raw beef bone does the job very well, and it does not splinter like cooked ones. I confirmed with good sources that raw bones are okay - and 13 months of giving them to her proved it.   

I should have believed my own eyes, back in April, but I could just not believe anybody would lie to me about such a tiny thing, and also deny my dog a bit of pleasure. I so regret that I did not even think to take a photo of her teeth today; I could kick myself. But I was already admonished for taking a few pictures of her, because it is against the “conditions”. I figured since the SPCA staff took video and pictures of Brindi on her “birthday” last month, I have a right to do it. But today I was told I might be refused more visits in the future if I did.



These are the 12 conditions for visits that I understand Sean Kelly, then the head of the “shelter management team”, wrote in April. They apply to me and me only. I was thrilled to be allowed to see Brindi, don't get me wrong!! But I was taken aback, especially by a 13th condition against writing or talking about the visits afterwards. HRM, realizing this goes against the Charter of Rights and Freedoms, got that one dropped. The other conditions prohibit such things as bringing a friend, going inside the shelter, or being late, and one about “no high-value items” that mystified everybody. Who would think it meant bones??

I signed to the conditions under protest. Without a witness (and a lawyer cannot be a witness), they can easily claim I was rude and stop the visits. But I can’t help wondering that an even bigger reason for the conditions is simply to prevent me from documenting my dog’s condition. And yes, I know that by posting this now, I am risking losing the privilege to see her. A bit of blackmail on top of all the rest. I am told that is what can happen in a big institution. I suppose. And who am I to ask for honesty and decency from a public charity?

I am sorry if the shelter staff feel unfairly criticized by me. It is not that I don’t appreciate all their work and care. I really do. They work very hard, handle tons of animals, and the shelter has improved 100% since last July. And I think they know that I am not a physical threat to them, that I would never issue a death threat to anybody. They know that my dog is my world, just like any other dog person. The bottom line is, the SPCA is responsible for her health, not HRM. They were good to alert me to the cysts, and to bathe her again when I asked. Maybe they don’t all agree with these policies. If so, I would hope they’d speak up. And nobody should be asked to lie as part of their job, paid or unpaid.

The shelter manager, who was at least honest about it, tried to fend off my questions about the bones as diplomatically as possible. She said I could talk to Sean Kelly. This must mean the bones are prohibited by the same man who taught Brindi to jump on people. I discovered this to my horror on my first visit ever, in minus zero weather last January. Then, I didn’t have time to bring treats (I used to bake my own, using chicken hearts). Brindi was demanding a treat every other second, wildly jumping on me if I didn't produce one. (Luckily she got the message not to do this, during my first two visits.) When I asked for treats, I received fake bacon strips, among the fattiest, most carcinogenic commercial treats ever, just dripping with red dye. “Appropriate”? For whom?

HRM legal services were a bit confused about the bones themselves, and are going to ask about it. But they cautioned me that they cannot control the SPCA’s actions. I have to wonder that in return for $34,500 a month, $414,000 a year, HRM feels it cannot give any instruction to a private contractor. It seems even odder that this contractor vows it will lose the HRM contract unless it kills any dog deemed dangerous by animal control. It's the only game in town, as far as a pound goes. The SPCA rationale conveyed to me in person before a witness last October by a smiling Sean Kelly went like this: sure, a few dogs may die needlessly, like Brindi, and that’s sad and everything, but gosh, they need the money so they can help a lot more dogs in the province. Yes, they need the money. But, dare I ask, doesn't this make it blood money?

Back then, it was “Sorry, Francesca, we’d really like to help but our hands are tied!”  But already in January, it was “Sorry HRM, we can’t kill this dog - but let’s just not give her back to her owner!”  (This despite the fact that my court case got the law changed so that other owners will have a fighting chance to save their dogs.) Now they are insulted because PETA has taken an interest and asked for reason to prevail. But nobody is forcing them; heck, my dog is not even being held legally, since there is no “disposition” on her, no legal purpose to hold her. (To get a judge to confirm this is the trick, as they are unsure about their jurisdiction, for one thing... I fear I may never get a fair hearing for Brindi. The sole reason HRM charged me in January is to use the charges to get another order to destroy; they are not offering to make up for the lack of an appeal process, which would seem called for under the circumstances.)

If only the false obstacles could be cleared aside, and the SPCA saw the truly ideal position they are in. Instead of circulating press releases about how well Brindi is cared for - not really possible in their short-term care facility - why not take a look at the realities? The SPCA are entitled by provincial law to exercise their right to protect animal welfare for all animals - a monopoly. They need no one's permission to screen dogs declared dangerous, using experts and common sense. If they did this, they would perform an invaluable public service. Dogs’ lives could be spared, humans would not be ruined financially and psychologically, and bad PR could be exchanged for praise, because they would be the heroes. And I would be the first to lead the celebratory parade.

The trouble is, if they can't understand beef bones, I don’t see much hope.  

Suicide

This post may be the end of me, as far as my cause goes, because I know what can happen when you take on the SPCA. However, people have a right to know. Someday it may help somebody else. My life is already ruined, or nearly, and my dog's health is compromised as it is. 

Since January the SPCA has been petitioning HRM behind the scenes to "re-home" my dog. In a recent public statement, they claim that they have made a number of proposals to HRM. According to a reliable HRM source, this is the only kind of proposal they have made.

What is the actual justification for giving my dog away to somebody else in this case? Even the HRM lawyers, and they are pretty sharp talkers, can't come up with one. It seems to me the SPCA favors the idea is because they are angry at me. Why are they mad? Last July I begged them to help stop a non-vicious dog from being put down. They declined, pointing to their contract, which I later learn (confirming my doubts) says nothing that could stop them from helping. They were content to keep her locked up, deny me visits, prevent any dog companionship, not walk her (a dog used to good runs several times a day), and now, I learn, veto her the beef bones I bring. Not to mention being ready to inject her with poison if so ordered. They are mad because I had the audacity to write about this - after my attempt to work with them failed - and because they get hundreds of complaints from people, most who haven't even read my blog, actually (it's too wordy, I know!). But some people do think for themselves and happen to find it wrong that a society dedicated to the welfare of animals is not helping to return a dog to its owner, and also keeping it locked up themselves. But I am to blame. 

In keeping with the SPCA's online statement that it has nothing to do with the outcome of this case, it has not spoken publicly about "re-homing", of course. But SPCA members and fans do it all the time - on Facebook, their own blogs, and anywhere they can. They berate me to get down on my knees and beg the city to give her to somebody else. The logic is a bit weak, since first of all, she is not a dangerous dog, never ripped apart an animal, or tried to, and should never have been seized; secondly, the city is hardline about euthanasia as the only option. Why they would allow a dog they say is dangerous to go to another owner, with the liability that goes with it, is a mystery. I never see them agreeing to this for the (apparently hundreds!!) of other dogs they get owners to sign over every year. Yet these SPCA fans swear to the world that I am selfish and uncaring because I will not bow to this demand - even before a judge has heard any evidence. And I have yet to see an actual justification that does not rest on false premises, exclude pertinent facts, and/or ignore the law. 

At the same time, I am told by dog advocates across the country that "re-homing" dogs in such cases often results in the dog being put down afterwards by a rescue or even the new “home" - because who wants to live with the label of dangerous? Who will take the time and energy to work on training? 

I will. I adopted a dog that was in a shelter for two years after being passed over countless times. She turned out to be a beautiful, smart, fun, and loving girl. No indication of "issues" before or after adoption, until a few months later - AFTER obedience training. With a bit more work, she can be a pretty perfect dog. Whatever mistakes I made were unintentional and rare; not the acts of a reckless, uncaring, unthinking person. If I were, I would not have offered to pay for a vet exam even when their dog has unharmed. Not everybody around here, I learned, would offer to pay even if they hit a dog with their car. I felt terrible. If I were so dismissive of things, I would not have apologized, and I would not have offered the city - over and over since last August -  reasonable and more than sufficient conditions in exchange for her return. 

And aside from all that, there is the inconvenient yet undeniable fact that my dog was illegally seized with no prior investigation; that the muzzle order, used to justify it, resulted from another dog owner's request not to fine me so I could afford all of her vet bill, as promised. Given that, what is the most reasonable response with regard to my ownership? I would not sign over my dog to be killed. To this day, I am devoting everything I have, all the energy and resources I can muster, to get her back safe and sound. What would indicate to an outsider that I do not take dog ownership seriously?? 

The point is: what would it take to bring around an otherwise well-intentioned, dedicated group of animal lovers to see this? Brindi and I are offenders? Well, we are small-time offenders. For which there are fences and training, and plenty of neighbors and friends supporting us. And in terms of the greater good, how would taking her away from me fix the gaps in the system that led to this ordeal? 

If by writing these things, I lose the chance to visit my dog again, and am branded a scoundrel, so be it. Life is short, and you have to say what is in your heart while you have the chance. 

PETA steps forward: the media step back

This is a really wonderful development, and I am very grateful. 

However, it seems the local media has not deemed a letter from the world's biggest animal rights group newsworthy. Hard to believe, but what else is new??

To enlarge the letter, click on it.

Message from Hendsbee

My local councilor, David Hendsbee, was kind enough to forward me a message he wrote to his colleagues at city hall last week.  

I want to thank him most sincerely, and I believe he's already received a few thank-you's from folks around North America. Here's one:

From: Judy Loudin <@hotmail.com>
Date: Tue, 26 May 2009 21:57:02 -0600
To: <david.hendsbee@halifax.ca>
Subject: Brindi needs to go home now!

Dear Sir,
 Thank you so much for your attempts to reach the people who are in charge of this horrific situation.  I hope and pray that sanity will prevail and that Brindi will be released to Francesca post haste.  As you noted, the publicity is circling the globe and not putting Halifax in a very good light as a tourist destination.  Hopefully reason will prevail and you and those who share your wisdom and common sense will work together to overcome this dastardly situation, release this poor dog from her prison, and allow Brindi and Francesca and the people of Halifax, Nova Scotia to get on with the business of living.
 Again, I thank you for your comments to those who have the power to end this travesty of justice posthaste.  Blessings from Wyoming, USA   Judy Loudin  M.Ed   LCMT  LCR

Judy Loudin

http://www.petfinder.com/shelters/WY54.html

The Healing Journey Rescue

Burns, WY 82053

"The last stop on their journey home!"

 

I am also glad to report that a few neighbors are signing statements of support to go to the court, and I hope that this may help.

 

Ten months, birthdays, outlook

Ten months to the day. Not much to be said about that; how many adjectives are there for hell?

Friday, a dreaded birthday, sad, but lifted up by a wonderful group e-card full of  heartwarming greetings and pictures from over a hundred well-wishers, some I've met in person, some I've spent many hours with on the phone since last summer...

No plans, just took a walk on the beach, for the first time in months. Trying to find a moment of balance. 

Near impossible, without Brindi, of course; knowing she sees the same square footage every day, the same small area where dozens of dogs poop and pee. No sand and surf and wind. Boggles the mind. 

Yesterday a birthday rally for dogs and human, at the Halifax North Common, with miraculously beautiful weather, with a wonderful group of Humane Halifax members, many people joining in to sign petitions, read the flyers, enjoy a piece of birthday cake, some sharing the special dog cake with th

eir pooches  - and lots of talk about Brindi.

Everybody we talked to had heard about her, but many were stunned to lea

rn that she was not released in January. I hear this often, and believe me, correcting people is no fun. The same reaction of shock, disbelief, and irritation, not infrequently, outright ang

er. One woman, very distinguised-looking and well-dressed, burst out - and I quote - "I swear, this place is just like a communist country!! It's getting worse all the time!!"

Today, cold, rainy, and gray, to match my mood. Very tired. Visit from someone who couldn't make the rally, welcome company, a walk around the field and the beach, but not much more productivity from me today. 

Progress report otherwise? Good news: permission from the authorities to see Brindi 30 minutes a week, noontime Wednesdays. Two visits so far since January. Unlike back then, this time we were allowed to be inside the building, since it was cold and rainy that day-  that was the day after her surgery, which was a very scary time, waiting to find out if she had cancer or not. I didn't write about that because it was simply too much to think about, let alone put into words. 

The next visit, the first of the noon series, I hope, the weather was sunny and warm, so we were allowed to go outside in the graveled pen, the one she sees every single day. She has not been anywhere else outdoors, to my knowledge, since July 2008. Probably sniffed every square inch hundreds of times. She lay down on the gravel for me to rub her belly, and I worried about her stitches popping. 

I can't helping thinking that Brindi has easily served ten times more time behind bars than even the worst animal abuser. My time has been much like prison; I certainly have not been living a real life. Knowing your dog is literally on death row makes that kind of impossible.  

Well outnumbered by positive supporters by the thousands, I have to marvel at the few detractors who want blame me for all of this. To them, I'm practically an animal abuser - yet here I am, trying everything possible to save my own dog, which to my utter disbelief has turned out to be a colossal effort. The alternative? A syringe of poison injected into Brindi's body on August 7, 2008, nobody knowing or caring. If she is being abused now, it certainly is not by my hand. Other people are involved in that decision, not me, just as other people are seeking her death right now. I am staking my entire life on preventing them and will keep on doing so as long as I breathe.

Incredibly, there are even one or two who insist I deliberately misled the public by posting a video of me celebrating the Supreme Court victory on January 16.  Sure, I would lie about the most important thing in my life, for what?? 

Call me naive, but when my own lawyer called and said "We won!!" and that Brindi would be home within a week, how was I to anticipate the devastating disappointment that followed? 

How was I to expect that instead of getting my dog back, I would be charged for the first time ever for violations of a by-law 45 minutes before the expiration of the six-month statute of limitations? 

All I know is, I love my dog more than anybody on the planet. There is nobody who will take better care of her or work harder to keep her safe and sound, with all the necessary aids and precautions. 

When people tell me how much they love Brindi, I think that's really great, because it reassures me that even behind bars, she is being her wonderful, beautiful, smart, attentive, fun, eager to learn, and above all, loving self. Even behind bars, all of that comes through; she is weary, she is lonely, she needs more exercise, her teeth and coat need attention, and Lord knows she needs to come home -but she has not gone crazy, she has not become vicious. Not this dog, people! 

And it gives me a bit of hope. Who in their right mind could kill a dog like Brindi? 

My hope is that maybe, just maybe, people who say they love Brindi will put themselves in my shoes for just a moment. A fraction of a moment. Any amount of time, no matter how brief, would be enough for them to know one thing for certain: nobody loves Brindi as much as I do. And then they would understand exactly why I say that I am not going to stop until she is back home, safe and sound. 

That is all I really want for my birthday: nothing more or less than my own dog, the one who celebrated (quietly) with me, one year ago on May 22. How much longer?

Here's some of the pics - thanks to Valerie S.! And everybody else, two-legged and four-legged, who attended!

Am I a mother?

A few kind and thoughtful people have sent me Mother's Day messages. It's common among animal lovers to think of themselves and others as parents to their pets. I don't have children; actually I never felt the need to identify myself as a mother. I do call Brindi my baby girl, but most of the time, I think of my animals as companions and adults in their own right. Brindi was already four when I adopted her and after a period of clingy-ness she soon gained confidence to become who she is - though she remains somewhat clingy, being a rescue, and being a loving dog!

The idea of being a mother to your pets does make sense in some ways; we care for our animals, nurture them, love them, teach them how to behave, take them with us on our journey through life. They never leave home of course, unless they are taken by illness or get lost or as in Brindi's case, dare I mention, just taken. 

I've noticed a sort of discursive debate among animal advocates out there about the proper designation for people who have pets: guardians vs. owners. I believe it has to do with the question of whether animals should have rights or remain property under the law. There seems to be a certain militancy among pro-guardian advocates, while a professor who teaches animal law at Dalhousie believes it is better to hang on to the concept of animals as property. I imagine that some combination must be derived to create the proper balance for animals to be fully protected from harm.

 

And today I wonder, how does this debate mesh with the notion of being a mother to a pet? Neither "guardian" nor "owner" brings with it the familial relationship or any hint of an emotional bond between human and animal. Why is that? My struggle to get Brindi back home has everything to do with this bond. It is not reflected in the law. My rights as a property owner seem to be so carefully guarded in all levels of law (with some exceptions, like expropriation). Courts tend to balance property rights against the public interest pretty fairly, on the whole, except when it comes to dogs. Then, all bets are off; a presumption of guilt is firmly embedded in the laws and practices. Anybody wondering what I am talking about should read not only By-Law A300, but also the Municipal Government Act, section 177. Anti-breed legislation opponents know this presumption of guilt (in pit bull bans, one-bite laws, and our native laws) does not correspond in any way to the statistics on the prime threats to human life. Nowhere in the law, or in the system built upon it, do I find consideration for all the good that dogs do for people - which is considerable. 

Brindi is a mom, by the way (and so is my cat, Amelia). When Brindi was rescued she had a full litter of puppies with her, in a cardboard box, and was shielding them from the rain with her body. Because she was tied to a stoop she could not get them to a dry place. She must have been so frustrated, then so glad to be helped! She detests water to this day, dislikes baths, won't swim in the ocean. In the photo on the top of the blog, it is no coincidence that she is running alongside a water-loving black lab at a careful distance from the waves.

Happily, Brindi's five pups were all adopted. Most went to the Halifax metropolitan area. 

Here's a few pictures:

So, as I never gave birth myself, this seems more appropriate:

***********Happy Mother's Day, dearest Brindi!***********

***************************************************************

 

Health Reprieve!

I got some welcome news yesterday from my vet - the lab reports were back early from PEI, and they showed no evidence of cancer in the biopsied tissue from Brindi's cysts. 

A big relief! 

Now we just have to make sure that her stitches don't get infected and she should be better.

The vet said the cysts were around hair follicles - I imagine they were blocked up or something... 

It's really the best news in ages!!!

A report on my visit with Brindi

Note: On Tuesday night (May 5, the day of Brindi's surgery) I got an email reply to my faxed request for a visit to the SPCA vice president, Kat Horne, saying I could come the next day, and I responded in time to go at 9:30 am. I was extremely happy to be allowed to see Brindi again. This is only the second visit in over nine months. At the same time a lawyer out of province advised me to sign to the SPCA's 12 conditions regulating the visit only under protest, specifically denying any implied accusations (that I pose a threat to staff). She also advised not to speak to anybody (no photography or other recording was allowed and only a lawyer may accompany me. A lawyer's presence in this instance was simply not feasible - or advisable. I feel it went well despite all that, gladly.

9:30 am to 10: 00 am, May 6, 2009, Metro Shelter, Dartmouth

On the way to the shelter, I managed to get batteries and bones and still arrive exactly on time. Lori Scolero, the animal services supervisor, and Kat Horner, the SPCA VP who replied to my email last night, were in the lobby. I said nothing but just handed them the signed protocol – to which I added Kat’s email with the permission to be inside, and the statement the lawyer wrote for me.

Next to the lobby is a bigger, newly renovated room they call the adoption center, with two couches at one end and stools and a counter at the other. They told me to go into this room and Kathy, a supervisor at the shelter (might be acting director now) brought Brindi in and unleashed her. She came to me right away, full of kisses. Scolero and Kat stayed in the lobby where they could view me through two large windows. Most of the time they didn’t look, so I had some degree of privacy, which was great.

From the surgery yesterday, Brindi’s back has three shaved patches, the biggest about 5 square inches, each centered on the incisions where they removed the cysts. One of the cuts was about two inches long. All three looked clean and uninfected, though the stitches looked a bit tight and I saw she was licking them now and then.

I played with her, hugged her, and gave her a lot of massages and practiced a few of her commands. She was very into the treats, more than before but not as bad as in January. She was still impatient though, but I was glad to see that she remembered the “bang!” command. When she spotted the treats though, she started performing all her moves, sitting, paw, and down, then rolling over, in anticipation. (I don’t give her a treat unless I give a command first, though.) She looked okay, still a bit heavy, very affectionate, lots of kisses. We hugged and talked and sat on the floor, even lay down together for a spell. I so just wanted to take her through the doors to my car. But I looked at Kat Horne and figured she’s much bigger than me and Lori would send the cops after me in a flash; I’d never make the three hour drive to PEI.

As a parting gift to distract Brindi while we separated – the toughest part – I gave her one of the meaty frozen soup bones I brought, not to big to carry in her mouth. It worked: she was a bit uncertain at first if it was really for her (she’s very polite about treats) but with encouragement she picked it up and went off with Kathy. Last time parting from her was heart-wrenching and so upsetting, when Sean Kelly (now the president) took her away. I had tried to sneak off but he walked her right into me to get past, and she strained against him with all her might to stay with me, her face showing her determination and fear.

I did speak briefly to Kathy and to Kat as I left, but only to turn over the treats, the bones, and ask Kathy to put my fuzzy jacket in Brindi’s cell. And I also said thank you to each of them, nothing more. They seemed cheerful and at ease.     

Before leaving my house I called my friend (through Brindi) Bob Riley. He was there when I arrived. I figured he would just  stay parked outside but he walked around and managed to look through the outside window at us for a while, undisturbed by Scolero, and then even went into the lobby where he could see us through a glass door. He stood a few feet from Scolero (animal services) with Kat behind the lobby counter. Neither told him to leave. He didn’t say much to them, just stood quietly and watched until I left Brindi. So I do have a witness of sorts and they did not object.

When I was leaving, Bob remarked for the others to hear, “Doesn’t look like a dangerous dog to me!”

I have not asked for another visit – yet – but I plan to soon, with the hope that they will agree, as this one went smoothly as far as I can tell.

AND I ALMOST FORGOT!

I finally had the chance to put the St. Francis medal on her collar - the one that Linda Koekman had specially engraved for her. It was meant to be blessed and put on her by a minister or a priest, who would accompany me to ask to see her at the shelter. Linda called 16 men of the cloth; I asked the local priest and a retired police chaplain. All declined (though to his credit my local priest did offer to bless the medal, to his credit).

Since last fall I have been wearing Brindi's St. Francis medal on a chain around my neck together with my mustard seed ensconced in a bit of glass (and engraved with the St. Matthew quote). It's now with her and I pray that it will protect her from illness or any harm, always! 

Here's what it looks like. Linda added the "We love you" so that Brindi knows...