A joy to share

Even with the enclosure around, it is not a 100% guarantee that the dogs will go in at the farm and make it easier for us to catch for sterilisation. The jolly fellows that saunter in and out of the enclosure at the lure of boiled chicken meat are our already-sterilised males -- usually led by Buffalo, Nyo Nyo and gang. Of course at the quickest chance, we waste no time in getting our hands on the friendlier unsterilised ones, whisk them into the car and drive them for sterilisation.

But what is difficult is the wary few who elude our leashes, hands and carriers. We're no experts in dogs catching but if anything, we know the logic that smaller space means increased likelihood of catching our target dog.

A fortnight ago, the caregiver's "Patchy boy" (this newcomer male, white coat with big black patches) put our hearts in our throats when he escaped out of the enclosure with our leash still tight around his neck. Patchy was a tough one esp. since he struggled wildly and snapped at us when the leash was on him. No blaming, but that's the unsurprising nature of dogs under duress.

While we went on with stray matters on the streets, we were dogged by the nagging feeling the danger that could befall Patchy boy should the leash got stuck in the bush and caused strangulation.

Patchy returned to the farm in the evening -- leash gone -- during feeding time. Right on time, safe-looking. Man were we relieved, when the caregiver rang us to inform Patchy was alright.

And just over the weekend, before we decided to make plans to depart from the farm, this cream-coloured male pup (six months) in the family pack ambled into the enclosure for the pieces of chicken breast meat laid on the floor. Thanks to SL, who nimbly closed the doors before the boy could flee. So the caregiver and I put down whatever that were on our hands and gingerly but eagerly, we entered the enclosure with the carrier. Our boy (now newly named as Bobo) skirted out of our reach for a while.

While I stood from a distance as still the stranger to the pack, W, the caregiver, ducked towards Bobo and in a stance covering all spaces to escape, she steadily cornered the pup into one corner of the enclosure. Her hands stroking fully, perhaps for the first time, the blossoming body of the survivor pup out of all his siblings. I pushed the gate-opened carrier from behind -- another space 'blocked' to the now-terrified Bobo.

W cooed and coaxed "good boy har... good boy har...", very, very delicately yet firmly pushing Bobo's body into the carrier. A moment of resistance, a little shrug from Bobo, and then when his head finally entered the carrier, he surrendered to the caresses of W's cajoles and settled into the carrier. In one fluid motion, we closed the carrier's gate shut and there we had it: Bobo, the squirmy yet proficiently food-motivated male pup, in the carrier. The pup we had been yearning to bring for sterilisation.

A jubilant moment of achievement! How much this means to all of us who deeply believe sterilisation is what we need to control stray numbers, not culling. How all this unfolded in an almost effortless, non-time consuming and unexpected way.

One dog sterilised, one piece of joy. A joy to share with everyone.

Ok, time to pick Bobo up from the vet's!




Not too flattering pictures of Bobo, en route to the vet's.




End Nov 08. Bobo remaining out of reach -- peering at us from the dark respite spot under rows of racks