Spotty slept into peace, not far from where he usually slept with a few of his pals who are more socialised with people. Often close to his caregiver when the chance permitted; otherwise, he'd be out with the rest of the pack in the bush, exploring the scents of wilderness, or napping in a deserted spot on the farm.
On one note, his passing means an easier management for W; for one dog less means that she can focus better on the rest of her dogs. A redistribution of the labour of love. It also represents to us Spotty's sacrifice to his siblings and friends. To die at a young age of a year plus. To 'make space' for others.
A week or so ago, Spotty was sent to the clinic and treated of his tick condition. The vet reported that he was overburdened with ticks -- when the staff were deticking him, the crawlies and fleas literally sprang out of his body and were inching along the walls surrounding the corner where he boarded. He was running a temperature and treated with anti-inflammation. Temperature went down but he remained weak and wobbly.
He was released thereafter on the assumption that he would be well, but little did we know that he would discontinue eating normally, drink sufficiently and before long, he only appeared occasionally to his caregiver. A sure sign that he knew he was deteriorating into sickness.
Perhaps he knew his time would be up and like most dogs, he sought a place quiet and secluded to go away peacefully.
We arranged for transport and a plan to trap him in the enclosure first thing on Monday, so that we could send him to the vet for another round of inspection and treatment, but Spotty, chose to leave us on that same morning.
A step too late.
His body was warm when W discovered him motionless. And she teared slightly over the phone when she updated me and I could feel -- since she's decided to take on the route to care for these dogs and entwined her life with the trials and tribulations of tending to stray lives -- a bond with a dog so strong and undeniable.
Being lower on the pack hierarchy, admittedly, Spotty was more often than not bullied by the bigger boys but nonetheless trailed his mates wherever they went. A follower, a passive member of the group. Come feeding time, he was deprived of the bigger chunks so W sometimes had to hand-feed him, and he would lapped up the pieces gleefully from her hand.
He had a favourite spot, that was, the tattered cushions of an unwanted, old sofa. He was laden with mange infection. He lapsed into mangey modes (dried flakes and crumply skin) periodically, and after medication, would regain his coat of patchy black spots over a blanket of white.
Good old days: Spotty moving around with alpha male, Buffalo and other youngsters around the farm
May 2008: Seeking respite beneath the clusters of farm machines. This was Spotty.
A few months old before they were sent for sterilisation. Chocho with Spotty, wary of my approaching with the digicam
Last few days at the clinic: Spotty was put on drip. His right hind leg trembled occasionally. Overall, listless and strengthless. Visited him on Wednesday evening and said a prayer over his healing.
Rest in peace, Spotty. We love you.
Spotty's departure serves yet again as another reminder to all socially-responsible individuals that until we have arrived in a world with no suffering strays, we must sterilise, or encourage to sterilise, the dogs in our communities -- domestic or feral. The death of a normal, healthy mongrel integral to our communities -- be they industrial farms, private residences, or within our home spaces -- is part of the vicious cycle of dog populations unsterilised, left to suffer and die. Their high mortality.
Case in point: Spotty was vaccinated when he was 4-5 month old. And slightly over a year since his vaccination, his immunity reached a point that however external his parasite burden of ticks, fleas and mange was, he was unable to combat them. Perhaps, an insidious invasion into the mechanisms of his organs was what happened.
As long as there are unsterilised female and male dogs around, litters of puppies that grow into adult dogs that, in the same repetition, mate, will manifest as reality all levels of society have to inevitably encounter. Dog numbers that multiply exponentially are a reality and when left to checks of nature, high mortality and disease penetration rates ensue.
A caregiver, being limited in his/her own resources, is incapable of offering the ideal medical attention to any sick or diseased dog that crosses his/her path.
Spotty escaped the enclosure and loathed being force-fed or being taken away from his comfort zone to be handled by strange hands and equipment at the vet's. He didn't know it was a procedure and experience necessary for his recovery.
To him, the only way to recover and feel better was to ingest selected weeds in the wild to purge undesired toxins from his body system(s).
It was a struggle for him to fight the plagues and equally, a struggle for us to get him to receive proper medical attention.
Sterilisation effectively stems the root of the problem of suffering animals and human-animal conflicts when stray dogs seek out urban environment for food. The connection is simple, it doesn't take an educated guess to know sterilisation is the way to go to mass-benefit street dogs and their welfare. It's certainly not merely the rehoming of one dog, but the sterilisation of existing ones to prevent future generations of dogs suffering from the hazards of street life or diseases that require human intervention.
We continue with Spotty in our hearts.
2 comments:
Rest now and be at peace, Spotty...
Spotty ...u will be dearly missed by all who knew & cared for u. i wish i'd known you.
Post a Comment