Let’s Talk About Dogs, Baby.

Let’s Talk About Dogs, Baby

Two White Owls (TWO) is the name of the farm we live in, named after the two white owls who visit us every night, perched lightly on the higher branches of the teak trees on the side fencing of our farm. It is our home, and also home to over 30 dogs presently. Some of them are our own, having been with us from as far back as 7 seven years. Others are here temporarily, a pit stop to hopefully their forever home. Until that happens, Two White Owls is their home and they are part of the pack.

It’s first important to take note that we are NOT a shelter or sanctuary. This is our home and we live here with our own dogs. However, when our fellow rescuers found out we moved to a farm, they contacted us and asked if we could foster their rescues until they either found them homes, failing which the understanding with them is that they will sponsor the dogs stay with us indefinitely.

As you know, most rescuers devote a lot of their resources to rescue and rehome. So having to place them at a shelter until they are rehomed is not always desirable. A shelter would mean they would be caged, enclosed most of the day, with limited social interaction with humans and dogs and very isolating. Our farm appealed to their sense of sentimentality for their rescue as it’s free roaming and we LIVE here which means 24/7 human and dog socialisation. Plus we maintain that any dog that comes to live on the farm becomes part of the pack.

That’s how we started our ‘sponsorship’ program, and the monthly fee was necessary to ensure that the dog would be provided for without causing us any burden and that by sponsoring them the rescuer would have a sense of accountability for the quality of life of their rescue.

As you can imagine, running a farm we just moved into while managing dozens of dogs is no small feat. We had to deal with challenges like holes in the fencing, comfortable enclosures for lock-down sessions, food management, health and most importantly, enough one-on-one time with each of them. And baths! Let’s not forget baths!

But there were other challenges, external ones, that we were unaware and unprepared for. If you think the city poses challenges for a dog like air pollution and space limitations, a palm oil estate brought us floods and farm animals who carry ticks that unlike their cousins in the city, are hardier and carry diseases that can harm your dog, like babbecia.

Google it. And you won’t find much information about it as it’s only recently been discovered, born by ticks in tropical climates and thrive in places like, where else, palm oil estates.

I first heard this word two days ago from aour vet. But in the last two months we have lost seven canine lives. And five of those lives were of our very own; two adults and three puppies, all healthy with no signs of anything to be worried about. The remaining two were under our care, both health challenged dogs with already low immune systems. One required all four of her paws cleaned with iodine and bandaged two times a day as she had no paw pads and open wounds. The other required physiotherapy every day for 30 mins and had to have his enclosure cleaned every day and himself washed up. He was the victim of an accident that left both his hind legs damaged and being unable to walk or stand for long would soil himself. He had good days and bad days. Good days he would happily walk around and let me carry him. On bad days, he would growl as us and just sit still watching the day go by. He wouldn’t let us clean him. And towards the end of his time with us, his bad days caused a wound to appear on his right hip. They were both sweet dogs, and we found ways to bond with them during these times. I would sing while changing the formers bandages and she would sleep off. The latter I would read to whenever he was tired from his daily physio and wanted to just hang under the shade of our giant bougainvillea tree.

Both these dogs died in my arms. One while we were rushing her to the vet and the other while I was giving him his daily bath. Other than erratic weight loss and gain, which most of our dogs had when we first moved here, they were eating like horses and playing around. Then they were gone, just like that. Like candles in the wind.

In hindsight, there were things we could have done differently, but we never did anything the wrong way. Just like our floods bring us new plants in the garden every time from seeds washed up, the herds and this environment too brought us afflictions that we never knew of. To lose dogs under your care is one thing. To lose your very own is another. And while we still mourn their losses, we are learning how to prevent the loss of any more lives and placing preventive measures. One day someone may move to a farm and have dogs and we hope they google ‘living on a farm with dogs’ and find an article about what we learned and how we managed it.

Babbecia has also brought to us an affliction worse than sickness; verbal diarrhoea, the kind that affects the human mouth. Symptoms include lack of understanding, ignorance, self-righteousness, lack of self-respect, malicious intent and the absence of values, civil ethics and decorum.

You can leave the city but the city never leaves you.

It’s an unfortunate human disease that we pour so much energy into unpleasant things, so we thought we would tip the scales (a little) and pour some energy into something pleasant. While the dogs we have lost are getting lots of attention, the ones who have not only ‘survived’, but thrived have been feeling a little left out. So we thought we would shine the spotlight on them for abit. After all, if you’re going to share the negative stuff, make sure you share the positive stuff too. 😊

Let’s talk about:

Maia. A schnauzer who was stumbled upon by a rescuer one evening by the roadside, who THOUGHT that looked like a dog but also looked like a pile of leaves. It was only when she was closer did she notice a messy little dog sitting in a catatonic state. Why? Because Maia, my baby Maia, was enduring horrific pain, the kind you experience if both your eyeballs were hanging out of their sockets and dangling from their optic nerves. The kind of horrific pain you endure as you are attacked by other cats and dogs and you can't see to defend yourself. The kind of horrific pain you endure when you feel yourself being caught and placed into a carrier and you don't realize you're being rescued.

Many months later I would sit with Maia as I watched her rescue video for the first time. I too would feel horrific pain, the kind you endure when you see your own baby scream and wail in terror, the kind you endure when you see her beg whoever was rescuing her to please don't hurt her, the kind of horrific pain you feel when you watch your own baby collapse in resignation that she thinks she is about to die.

The kind of horrific pain you feel as you watch her as she sits on your lap, her eyelids sewn shut to cover the two gaping holes in her head where her eyes once were, tilting her head from left to right as she tunes in to every sound around her, peaceful and happy and oblivious to the tears that are running down your cheeks as you hug her and apologize for the cruelty that only humankind can do and promise her she will never suffer again.

A rescuer from Kajang would later bring her to me to foster while she tried to get her adopted. In her own words, "nobody will adopt a blind dog." Lucky for her, and for Maia, I'm not nobody.

This rescuer seems to have forgotten this. She has also seemed to forget the adoption drives I have invited her to participate in, or the RM100 we contributed to her when her cat died, knowing she was trying to raise the vet bill and despite the fact that her dog that was under our care at TWO had yet to receive her monthly fee that was two weeks behind at that time and who's daily medical supplies which amounted to RM20 were being covered by us. Perhaps it slipped her mind dealing with her cat. It happens.

As a matter of fact, things slipping minds seems to be a common trait in the animal community.

It was an Aunty from Klang whom I have so much admiration for who first called us regarding her rescue whom we lost first. She was so upset that her rescue's current location place, a pet shop in Kajang was not a good place for her to be in: she was in an enclosure with limited space to move, resulting in her having to relieve herself in the same space she also walked about in, her paws getting exposed to contamination. And it didn't help that the pet shop owner could only come in once a day to clean up and feed her, and all the healing she had done in aunty's place was being undone.

Aunty begged us to take her, and we genuinely wanted to help. When the pet shop owner dropped the rescue with us, she too admitted that her shop was not a good place for her and that her paws were getting worse. How could we say no?

This same Aunty would call again and ask us to foster Princess.

Princess. Princess is such a special dog. A distemper survivor, we picked her up from the vet after her treatment. She was so tiny and frail, skin and bones. But she had the most gorgeous eyes. When we brought her back, she refused to eat at first, but slowly developed a voracious appetite. She was however hostile towards other dogs and especially puppies. But she and I bonded over baths. And this fighter revealed herself to be loving and affectionate, purring whenever I came to play with her, fussing away like
a little puppy.

Today, she is part of the pack and plays with the smaller puppies. No matter where she is or where I am, I just need to call her name once and she's there. When we come home, she waits for me until I close and lock the main gate, then walks up the drive way with me. She loves to be cuddled and is now a chubby little thing. But her eyes remain the same - doe-eyed and soft, full of love.

Later, Aunty would ask us to come and pick Kumari, a pregnant mama dog who we witnessed undergoing trauma when the catcher used a noose to drag her into the carrier from the rear. This one careless act would affect us greatly when we took her back to the farm. The damage was done and Kumari refused to trust us, no matter what we did. She later miscarried.

It took us over a month until she finally came out from her room and joined the pack. Kumari was not going to give in to humans so easily and to see her coming out was a great mark of improvement. But she would need lots of time.

Time we were not given because a certain Ms Kerala decided that she would like Kumari to be returned to aunty, despite aunty's insistence that she couldn't take care of her and didn't have the space. Why do some people think they have the right to dictate another's life? Because they are bored and have no friends and need something to do? I wouldn't know. I’m occupied with trying to heal a dog. I'm just making a guess.

I spoke to Ms Kerala and tried my best to explain that Kumari needed constant human and dog interaction or she would be difficult to rehome because of her trust issues. Once again, the human ego reared its ugly head as what was best for Kumari was never the focal point. But then again why should it be when you're not the one who has to care for the dog? Just toss her to the old lady.

I stood my ground again only to have Ms Kerala constantly talk about money. That's ALL that she ever talked about. At this point, I felt it important to once again educate a fellow ‘rescuer’ on the animal rescue ecosystem - your money, as important as it is, is not the centre of the 3R System (rescue, rehab, rehome). It is PART, not the ONLY valuable contribution. It IS however, worthless without the PEOPLE who utilise it. DO NOT use it as a pawn in some sick twisted effort to fan your ego.

She talked about these dogs like they were 'things', which I constantly corrected her for. She crossed the line with me when she accused TWO of running a 'business'. I told her she could take her 'business' elsewhere. I'm not paying for the dog anymore, she said. OK, I said. Thank you and bye-bye.

Needless to say, she was unhappy she failed to recruit another groupie to her fan club.

We would find out much later that one of Aunty’s rescues we fostered was actually Ms Kerala’s but her ego prevented her from contacting me so she used the old lady. We wanted nothing to do with her but aunty begged us to take the dog. Finally we relented on the condition that we would only have to deal with aunty. Was aunty being used? Of course. Were we being used? Of course! Did we care? Not if it helped the dog.

Later we would find Kumari a home with an elderly Chinese couple, The Lee's from our town whom Kumari took a liking to. Since her sponsors were no longer paying for her we continued to care for her until she found a home. I would later receive a call from Aunty asking about Kumari. I informed her that she had found a home. Imagine my amusement when she got upset and asked me why I rehomed her. Why wouldn't I when she seemed to like The Lee's? Isn't it important that she found people she liked especially after everything she went through?

Why do people not think about what's best for the dog?

Last but not least, the day we brought Kumari back, we brought Taylor back. Taylor was a small puppy that Aunty claimed had wandered into her house. She begged me to adopt her, not under the program but to adopt her. Obviously we couldn't do that but Taylor was so cute and I felt bad for aunty, so we did adopt Taylor.

*Latest update: Aunty texts me informing me that Princess, Kumari and Taylor are to be returned to her.

I'm still trying to understand that text but my head hurts every time I do...

Mowgli. The Number Two in command after The Pawse. A puppy bark caught our attention one morning on the farm. Christmas was the first to bark to grab our attention, and as we followed her bark we came across this tiny little rat all by himself. We beckoned him to follow us and he did, again, like a dog who already knew us. We gave him a bath and planned to find him a home, but this puppy was after my own heart. He was going to make me fall in love with him. And armed with swagger like Jagger and a personality larger than life he accomplished his mission.

I love this dog. He has these giant titled eyes that stare at me and speak to me at the same time.

If Mowgli were a human he'd be a politician. Knowing he'd have to earn his place in the pack he set out to study each dog, starting first with the one he knew was standing between him and me, the one who's throne he'd have to conquer. ChelseaBoo.

He succeeded. Chels, no longer interested in hierarchy but only me, happily gave him the crown and retired in my arms. Mowgli, knowing her place with me, continues until today to never overstep her and she knows he will never completely replace her. After Chels, the rest were a walk in the park. He's the King of the Hill and the Sultan of Swagger and the pack knows it. Now he likes to spend his days hanging out in the bedroom with the occasional walkabout to see what everyone else is up to.

Duchess, LeLo and Stitch. Three rescued strays from Klang who were 'caught' by an independent catcher with the help of a feeder, who for the life of me I cannot understand spent weeks feeding these dogs and yet didn't seem to gain their trust.

Dogs do not bite the hands that feed them. They form trust. And the lack of that trust is down to one thing: feeding a dog doesn't make you a rescuer. Feeding a dog and spending time getting to know the dog and gaining its trust is what makes you a rescuer. You do not just 'rescue' the dog; you rescue its trust.

Because when you do that, then people like us who were called upon to come down to KL to pick them up to foster wouldn't have to carry three dogs to our car who were so terrified that they would each wet themselves in fear. We wouldn't have to deal with three dogs who were so afraid of people that it would take us weeks just to stroke their heads. And we wouldn't have to stand our ground when Ms Kerala, whom we had specifically advised and who agreed with us that siblings LeLo and Stitch should not be separated when adopted went against our agreement and found Stitch a home without LeLo, whom she looks upon as the protective one. We wouldn't have to explain the psychological effect it would have on the sisters after spending weeks getting to know them and that all the work we did in changing their perception about people would go to dust.

Instead, we came face to face with the 'self-glorified rescuer' - the ones who think that dropping styrofoam packs of rice by the side of the road makes them a 'rescuer', the ones who think by pressing the 'Transfer Now' option on their mobile banking app makes them a 'rescuer' and insist the whole world should know by way of a Facebook post 'thanking them' for their contribution when it's THEIR rescue case and their responsibility to see to, the ones who think that just because they financially provide for the dogs that we work for them and do as they say and worst of all, the ones who treat these dogs like 'things' with no heart or soul because it's NEVER about what's best for the dog but what's best for them.

The kind we say to, "keep your money, we're keeping the dogs."

Stitch walks beside me whenever I walk to the grocery shop down the road. She's the one whom when Neo, Shadow, LeLo and Christmas run back to the farm after all five have walked with me stays behind by the shop and waits for me to come out and walks me home.

LeLo, having been taken under Christmas's wings when she came to the farm, accompanies her for perimeter checks and sleeps in the kitchen with KenZo at night.

Duchess, the dog who took care of the sisters when they were on the streets lives in the master bedroom. Royalty as her name suggests, this once dumped dog who ate from rubbish bins now refuses to mix with the 'commoners', indignantly raising her chin every time I insist she take a walk in the garden to get some fresh air, but eventually relents in a huff and does her 'royal walkabout' before sitting outside the baby gate that barricades the room and barks to be let in.

She also sleeps on the bed with me and is the first of the 'bedroom pack' to smother me with morning kisses when I wake up. She also loves me to bits and does a little dance every time I leave my room. It's called the 'should I step out with you or stay in this room but I wanna come with you but I don't wanna leave this room' dance.

Zeus. This old fella was sent to a shelter by his previous owners after having him for 10 years. A fellow rescuer placed him under our program to live out the rest of his life in our home. While Zeus is battling a serious case of advanced tick fever and heartworm disease, he is a puppy in a giant dogs body. He follows David everywhere, thinks everything is either food or a toy and loves to sleep.

His best quality? He's not ready to give up. Though his disease is quite advanced and he's weak and thin, he eats like a horse and insists on running in the garden with the younger dogs. You gotta respect a giant dog who is young at heart.

Yin and Yang. It was another early morning on the farm with the dogs when we (the dogs and us) spotted two puppies running out from under a bush outside our farm and running up the road after a motorbike. One can only assume they were the dumpers.

Yin and Yang's story is made extraordinary not by them, but because of what transpired next. At this time, it's important to take note that it was the early stages of LeLo and Stitch joining us and we were still working on our trust issues. And we always say, trust and love are the two vital components to a dog-human relationship.

What we witnessed next no one will ever believe or get to see, except us, the ones who spend TIME with these dogs, who see them as amazing living beings with heart and soul and brains - LeLo and Stitch took off and ran to the end of the farm that connects to another farm, ran through a hole in the fence towards the main gate at the end of that farm, slipped through the metal gate bars and began barking to get the puppies attention. When they did they continued barking but began running back into the neighbouring farm, stopping every few feet to see if the puppies were following (which they were), then beckoned them through the farm, through the fence hole, through our farm and led the puppies right up to our feet, after which they slowly walked off and collapsed onto the grass, heavily panting from all that running.

Trust is everything to a dog. And anyone who 'rescues' and doesn't understand this needs an education on animal psychology and the negative impacts of human stupidity upon their psyche.

You can 'Transfer Now' any time for that nugget of wisdom.

Skye and Blue. Our third pair of siblings rescued by sisters who asked us to foster them until they were adopted. They almost found a home but at the 11th hour were turned down and continue to live here. These girls 'talk'; as in they actually 'talk'. They sleep in the hall and are never separated. Sometimes we wake up in the middle of the night to what sounds like two old aunties chatting away. They are also the 'Mean Girls' of TWO, the kind that bullies the younger doggies but get all affectionate and loving with you the moment you appear. All they do is kiss us. All the time. Day. Night. All day. If I had a dollar for every kiss they gave us, we would be millionaires.

When we took them in, we made sure that their sponsor, like every sponsor we advise, be prepared to sponsor them indefinitely in case they fail to get adopted, of which we were happy that they understood and agreed.

So you can imagine my utter disappointment that just recently their sponsor has informed us that they will no longer be able to afford sponsoring the girls and that they will look for another place to board them.

One way to separate the REAL animal lovers from the UNREAL ones is how well they understand the dynamics of dog-human relationships. A REAL animal lover will know that after months of living with a dog a bond forms that cannot just be broken because you can ‘no longer afford' to sponsor your rescue, and that removing a dog from what has become their 'home' and 'family' is tantamount to cruelty of another kind, the kind 'self-glorified rescuers' completely fail to consider because... say it with me...they never think about the dog.

We have kindly informed their sponsor to consider sponsoring one sister at the very least. While they have yet to revert on this option, our position will remain unchanged irregardless of their decision. The girls stay put. Sponsored or not.

Million. Now this is an interesting one. Million came home with us the same time our other now-deceased did. Both belonged to the same rescuer, both were picked up from the same vet at the same time, and both were accident victims, with hind legs that were crushed by heavy vehicles and required extensive surgery.

When we picked Million up, he could hardly walk, his hind legs still recovering from multiple surgeries and muscles and tendons that had not regained their strength yet. He too had rehab sessions with us, but while his hind legs were crushed, his spirit wasn't.

I wish his 'rescuer' would show him off like she's showing the other one off. I wish she would share with the whole world that by the time Million left the farm he was RUNNING. Like literally on all fours chasing the girls and rough-housing with the boys. Like out-running the smaller dogs when they play catch. But instead she's ignored his accomplishments like its no big deal. Poor Million. He worked so hard to get strong again.

Another typical human flaw of talking about you when you're dead instead of celebrating you when you're alive. But it's ok Million. We will celebrate your accomplishments and share it with the whole world. We will tell everyone how much you loved hanging out with KenZo and how you loved to sleep infront of my bedroom door at night. We will tell everyone how smart you were and how you used your beautiful brown eyes to soften us whenever you were naughty.

And we will tell everyone that we were heartbroken when you were taken away from us without even letting us say goodbye to you after we spent months bonding with you and helping you get strong again. We wonder if you reached your new home and couldn’t understand why KenZo wasn’t there, or Tara or Princess. We hope you weren’t confused or scared or sad. We hope you didn’t think we gave you away. Some people really don't use their heart and their brains when it comes to people and dogs. I mean, one would have to be a special kid of stupid to not even think about it. REAL and UNREAL. There are all kinds. We will miss you Million. Just keep running.

Echo. Our rockstar. Echo is a Dalmatian mix born deaf who kept getting adopted by homes that thought he was the cutest puppy in the world until they found him difficult to handle. He refused to listen or to acknowledge anyone. He would snap at other dogs and people unexpectedly. And sometimes, sadly, he would get his ass kicked before he could see it coming. But why? Try googling ‘deaf dogs’ and you’ll see why. No one knew Echo was deaf. Until the home before ours took him to the vet and he was diagnosed. But still, they decided they couldn’t handle him. Who wants a deaf dog? We do. Because special needs dogs, like Echo and Maia have so much to teach us about how they adapt to the world with their remaining senses.

Adopting Echo encouraged us to do our research. David began to use sign language to communicate with Echo, the use of energy and vibration as well as light stimuli. It is nothing short of amazing how he grew into a handsome, confident, loving dog who sees us as his entire world. We learned to communicate better without using words. And that, we discovered was very powerful, even between humans.

KenZo. Imagine driving along a deserted stretch of highway and suddenly lo and behold! A husky mix! We found KenZo abandoned at a bus stop along the lonely 6km stretch of highway heading to our farm. He slept at this bus stop for two days as if waiting for someone to come back and get him. We did. On the second day we saw him. His wait was not in vain. 😂

Polly. This past July Pastor Satthy placed Polly in our hands with faith and hope that we could help change her. When we picked her up from the vet in Ipoh, she seemed timid and passive. A serious case of tick fever and malnutrition left her skin severely bruised and her body skin and bones. She was going to need some pretty major TLC.

At first we noticed that she seemed hostile to other dogs who came near. But on walks she kept her head down and stayed close to us. Her malnutrition had left her with an unending appetite, with Polly always wanting more and more food. Some days she seemed friendlier to us, other days not so much. Polly would need a lot of work and we were ready for it.

One evening she got her paw nails stuck between her enclosure groove. It had started bleeding and she couldn’t dislodge it. She was whining. David knelt down beside her and said, “Polly, I need to cut the metal bar around your paw. You need to let me close to you. You need to trust me.”

Polly lowered her head and turned it away, as if to say, “go ahead. I can’t look.”

It was over in a second. But that one incident changed Polly overnight. She started to be friendlier with us, but had formed an attachment to David. When he finally gave her the first bath, she licked his face in gratitude. Her eyes started to soften, her gaze less intense and hostile, and her body and fur were filling up and looking shiny and fresh.

Polly, like any dog, yearn for love and affection. It is their instinct to recognise and reciprocate it. We cannot explain it and neither can dogs. And that’s really what makes these human-dog relationships so precious: no words can and ever will be able to describe it.

We love you Polly. It’s gonna be a bright bright sun-shiny day. ❤️

Tassy. My Tassy Girl. I love Tassy. She’s just got so much personality and she makes me laugh with her goofy expression. But she wasn’t always like this. When she came to us she was quiet and sullen, choosing to sit quietly in her enclosure and talk to no one. Today, she lounges on the sofa on the porch or sunbathes on the driveway and sleeps in the hall on nights.

And every morning when I walk out to the porch to greet her, I say, “goooooomorning Tassy Girllllllll!” and she never fails to waddle up to me with that goofy face and give me my morning kisses.

Tassy was once a stray roaming the streets with her pack. Somehow she caught the attention of her rescuer who couldn’t seem to shake off this odd connection she had with Tassy. As is typical of strays, Tassy got knocked up. Unfortunately, she lost all her babies.

Every day her rescuer would drive past her to see her, and every day Tassy would wait for her and run after her car. One day she asked Tassy if she’d like to get off the streets. Tassy jumped into her car, and off she went to be with her fosterer.

Sadly, she changed from a happy playful dog to one who was timid, antisocial and sad. Her rescuer couldn’t believe the change in her.

Nevertheless, she decided to give TWO a try. And Tassy once again bloomed into the sweet dog she used to be. That’s what happens when you raise a dog in a loving happy environment.

Luke. Young Skywalker. The puppy we found dead by the roadside who came back to life.

Luke was a tiny puppy when I found him. His pack was trying to wake him up but he had died from cardiac arrest after his mum accidentally dropped him while their pack was crossing a highway. I saw his lifeless body being nudged about and jumped out of my car, only to have to move his body to the side so he wouldn’t become roadkill.

I went to the closest store to grab some newspapers so I could wrap him up and bury him. But when I got to him...Holy Lazarus...his chest was moving up and down! I grabbed him and as I turned to look behind me his mum sat there and looked at me. I silently replied, “I will take care of him.”

We spent the next three hours slowly massaging his chest and syringing glucose water. Then we waited.

The next morning his breathing was calmer but he still had not woken up. He slept for three days. Then he opened his eyes, restoring my faith in second chances.

The Kids of TAP. Amazing dogs. We know everything about every one of them. We spend 18 hour days getting to know them, 24/7. We have the best life ever, because we get spend it with these amazing animals, who are teaching us every day that we still know so little of their full potential. They are also showing us how flawed we as humans are and that until we learn to put their needs above our own personal agendas we cannot truly be their voice if we cannot first quieten our own voices.

Our dogs have taught us some valuable lessons, and if we cannot live by their codes, we are a bunch of clowns entertaining each other with our slapstick comedy routines. Some of my personal favorites:

• before you plan to have 200 dogs get along with each other in a closed space, try getting 200 animal lovers to do the same
• In all things, come from a place of love first
• Attack only to defend
• We don't have to like each other, but we can still love the same human (which simply translates to 'we are on the same side dude')
• You cannot have compassion for another species of life until you have compassion for your own

So there you have it! Our pack and the magic each one has brought to our lives. No matter what happens in the world, these dogs know and love us, and the Universe always protects if the intent is clear. I hope theses dogs have inspired you to consider adopting one if you haven't already or don't have one, or at the very least consider sponsoring a shelter dog.

In the spirit of being the person my dog, or dogs think I am, I would to thank everyone who has shown us support and encouragement and believed in us and the work we are trying to accomplish, and that we can always depend on that.

As for those who seem to have so much to say about me, I'd like to say, "dude, we don't even know each other! Yet I seem to be all you can talk about. I'd take it personal but hey, why would I take something about me that isn't true from someone who doesn't even know me to heart? Did I give you the impression I'm THAT self-absorbed? I am however, deeply saddened. Saddened that so many of you who I have looked up to and greatly respected and admired have turned out to be the kind of person I would never want to be. ChelseaBoo would be very upset if I did.

As for those who take everything they here as gospel truth from the mouths of those who don’t even know the facts, I say to you...you must be a special kind of stupid too.”

Animal activism and advocacy is all about education and awareness. In a country like Malaysia that has a young animal welfare act, a fragmented community, a stray population problem and LOTS of work to be done, I'd like to say to my community of fellow animal lovers,

"You are your own worst enemy. You sabotage your own team and then ask why change is impossible. During a time when our government is beginning to open its ears and hear us out, you choose to drown your own voices out, one trying to be louder than the other, until your true intent is gone with the wind. And when the dust settles, all you will see is the time you have wasted and the opportunities you missed because you were too busy tearing your own team down.”

Here’s a little education for you that applies across the board in any industry or community:

• Do your due diligence before you make accusations and assumptions that end up reflecting on your ignorance of the topic
• Respect the privacy of fellow animal lovers especially when it comes to their homes
• Keep your personal feelings to yourself and focus on the issue on hand - the animal
• The longer you’ve been rescuing animals, the wiser you should be when it comes to leading and educating those who have less experience than you. It doesn’t matter if you’ve been rescuing for five years or 30 years. What matters is the example you set for others to follow
• Last but no least, quit bitchin’

Ok I had to throw that one in as a freebie but you get my pun.

The funniest thing about all this is that every one of those people actually dislike each other and have spoken ill of them but I suppose nothing brings people together quite like a shared purpose. Now if only they could do the same where animal welfare is concerned we’d be on equal par with our European counterparts.

We may not be perfect, and yes we may make mistakes from time to time for we are only human, but we will never be one of you. That’s what we are most proud of.

I think the world would be a better place if people were more like their dogs. Eat. Sleep. Play. Love. Repeat.