Don't Forget to Remember

It was Monday. The day we were rostered to head down to the shelter to conduct night feeding for the dogs at Gentle Paws. On the long straight road leading to the shelter, you could see the gentle rays of the evening sun caressing the tired landscape of the pet farm.

The car park of the pet farm where Gentle Paws is located used to be a bustling place. Two different nurseries ran their businesses there. One of them was run by a smiley elderly couple with a spirited Japanese spitz of their own. The other was run by a man who generally kept to himself until one of our cars blocked his shopfront or one of our dogs knocked over his flower pots.

Now, ten years from the day I first stepped foot here back in 2008, this same car park feels empty. The nurseries have vacated the premises. The perimeter of the car park is no longer lined with bonsai and other potted greens. Parts of the farm's infrastructure are gradually being removed to prepare the land for its impending handover to the authorities. The number of workers at the farm has also seen a significant reduction.

It feels almost as if the sun is setting on this familiar town that I once knew and loved. Dogs and volunteers are still abound. The dogs still live here for now. They still need to be fed and exercised.

Yet, there is something different about the whole place. The air hangs heavy with the knowledge that everyone's days here are numbered. Farewells will soon need to be said. The deadline on the lease saw multiple extensions and seemed like it was never going to materialise. Now, it looms perilously close.

This was my playground for a good seven years or so, before my participation in shelter work began to dwindle. I found myself searching my mind for some of the best and worst moments that I had gone through here in these premises. What had I learnt in those seven years? There are too many things to note down here in any great detail. But let me just take one last nostalgic walk down memory lane before it too shuts down and moves away for good.

Memory #1: Coffeeshop Talk

It all started at a coffeeshop. We were having lunch after a day's work at another shelter where Wee's rescued dogs had been housed. The plan to run our own shelter was hatched over food and drinks. We confirmed one another's interest, without thinking too much about what we were getting ourselves into. We did not stop to consider how many years of our life this venture could possibly consume or even how long we had known each other at that point. 

These were five people who were as different as day and night, whether in age, background or occupation. By some twist of fate, we found ourselves, at that point in our respective lives, fuelled by the same motivation to provide a better life for the shelter dogs under our charge. Without mulling more over the possible implications of our decision, we plunged headfirst into the murky unknown. Just like that, we set the events of the next eight years rolling. 

The spark of enthusiasm that hit us that day was like the flick of a finger that set a sequence of dominoes tumbling. The dominoes kept on going, even when one or another of us eventually jumped off the bandwagon. On and on they went in a steady, dependable rhythm, one after another, unceasing throughout the years. This was exactly how the shelter operated. It just kept on going for eight years now, no matter who came or left. 

Memory #2: Moving Day

On that rather thrilling day, we opened the side gates of the old premises and guided the dogs to the new one several units away. Most of them ran excitedly down the corridor toward the new shelter that was to become Gentle Paws. The other more fearful and uncertain dogs had to be carried or dragged on leash. We had our first party at the shelter that day. We invited lots of people we had never met to meet our dogs and view our spanking new facility. We were proud to show off our spacious new kennels and our freshly painted walls. 

We hadn't realised it then. But these kennel grounds and walls would soon collect grime, pee and algae over the years. They would become the subject of merciless scrubbing by many an enthusiastic volunteer on self-declared cleaning days we called Detox Day. 

The older the shelter premises grew, the more lived in and well loved it became. I remember coming in at 8.30am on weekends to wash the shelter by myself. I would sneak out of my home quietly in the morning so my mum wouldn't nag too much about me spending the whole day at the shelter. Again. Yes, the unwashed smell of pee and poo lingered in the air. But there was a certain enjoyment derived from the peace at the shelter and being alone with the dogs that you can't get anywhere else. 

Memory #3: Death 

I never expected that my involvement in shelter work would mean I would be so intimately acquainted with death. Dollar was the first dog we lost after operations began at Gentle Paws. She died of acute kidney failure. I remember taking the bus to the clinic to say my final goodbye. I had not known then this would be the first of many goodbyes to come, some so much more painful and graphic than others. 

There was Dikki, who got hit by a car and whose body we retrieved from the NEA contractor at the side of an expressway. We wrapped her in a towel and placed her in my car boot to bring back to the shelter. There was Baby who seemed to be in so much pain toward the end of her life that we had to decide whether to put her down. It was a huge decision and I remember all of us gathered at the vet's to deliberate. There was Dyana, who had fallen multiple storeys from her adopter's apartment and whose body who had looked everywhere for in despair. 

There were those rescued puppies I found suddenly dead at the shelter during night feeding. The first time round, I wrapped his little body up in towels for Wee to bury the next day. The second time I tried to resuscitate the puppies clumsily even though their bodies had already turned slightly cold. There was Dita who collapsed from a heat stroke after one of her usual walks one fateful day. There was Daelle whom I half-dragged to the vet from his adopter's, only to witness him breaking into seizures on the examination table. He didn't pass on that day but that was the start of his decline. 

These are but a few of the more painful departures I can recall off the top of my head. Just talking about them makes my heart sink a little, even now. Looking back, I can't imagine how we went through all that together. But perhaps because we did, there is something extraordinary about this journey. The range of emotions you go through doing shelter work alone is not something you can ever get from your everyday hum drum. I don't know if I have been changed for the better because I have experienced all of this. But I know I surely have been changed for good. 

Memory #4: Rescue Work 

Rescue work is immensely exciting. I got my first taste of that with Damsel. I played absolutely no part in her rescue except for being at the right place at the right time. Wee plucked her from the bushes and placed the angry puppy in my shaking arms. 

But wait, that isn't rescue. Rescue only starts when you place a puppy in a warm home, not a shelter. At the shelter, we are able to provide for a pup's physical needs. With us, they would have food, clean drinking water and a roof over at their heads. But at the shelter, there is no one around long enough to ensure that the puppy develops good habits and behaviour. There is no one to expose the puppy to variety of people and experiences, particularly during their all important fear impact periods. 

Compared to the critical survival of the puppies, all this talk about good habits and exposure seems to pale in comparison. Its importance only becomes apparent when the puppies quickly grow into shy, skittish adolescents sorely lacking in socialisation skills. As a result, people who adopt kennelled dogs often have to work harder than anyone else to transition the dog to a life at home and for eventual integration into our wider community. 

With time ticking away so quickly, it was often a race against time to find homes for our rescued puppies before they grew too big. As much as we wanted to get them out fast, we had our work cut out for us. The average mongrel often exceeds the size allowed under HDB's Project Adore. We also realised that the chance of adoption for a mongrel puppy fell behind that of an adult pedigree dog. Bias and barriers can be hard things to break down. 

Given these circumstances, the shelter's efforts at finding homes for the puppies and dogs rescued can be said to be quite remarkable. Gentle Paws might not have been successful in every case. But we were lucky enough to have met more wonderful families for our dogs than I was counting on. 

Memory #5: Furry Days, Nat Geo and Walk a Paw

I hadn't even so much as organised a birthday party in my life. Suddenly, I found myself taking on the reins of organising beach outings for the shelter dogs. If you have read this blog often enough, you would know we call these events Furry Day. Since I have been at it ad nauseum in my previous entries, I shan't dwell on this for too long. I just want to remember them as bright shiny spots during my time with the shelter. I had fun organising them. It brought me closer to my fellow volunteers, whom I learnt to value and trust. The best thing was, I could tell we all had fun together with the dogs even though it meant we were tired as hell at the end of the day. 

From organising internal affairs like Furry Days, I was also tasked to take charge of our participation in the National Geographic adoption drive. It was our first big event as a shelter. What is the Nat Geo drive? Well, before dog adoption events became such widespread and common affairs, there used to be just one great big one each year. It was sponsored by the National Geographic channel and was often organised in conjunction with Cesar Millan's visit to Singapore. Yes, we have been around long enough to have participated in the inaugural Nat Geo drive. Back then, many dog welfare groups you see today had either not yet been established or hadn't yet thought of venturing out. I guess that was why a small outfit like ours was included. 

I remember having to attend those meetings with the organisers on my own and handle interviews with the media as well. For an introvert like me, this was quite painful. But the shelter really did thrust me into plenty of situations I was not prepared for. I was schooled that way over the years. 

We intended to bring all the dogs to the drive. That meant we had to prepare logistical support in the form of volunteers and transport. Everyone had to be prepped on the schedule and their roles. I was famously scatterbrained. But my fellow volunteers moved into their roles so smoothly that day, I didn't have to do much at all. I loved seeing some of them in action at the adoption booth, talking about our dogs with such tenderness in their voices. So many of them were older and better versed with interacting with members of the public than I was. There was so much to learn from them. This was the camaraderie I loved about our first generation volunteers and which I miss to this day. We were one big team and because we have been through so much together in those simpler times, we felt like such a family. 

Finally, there was our annual Walk a Paw event, which was a self-created stress fest for me each year. I got it into my head to create this year-end event to raise some funds for the shelter. Yet every year, I would worry endlessly that no one would be interested to participate. The premise of the event was to buy a goody bag and spend a morning with the shelter dogs by walking them to the park. Does this sound counter-intuitive? You are effectively paying to walk our dogs. But people who signed up recognised that they were essentially contributing a little of their time and money for a meaningful day and cause. Coupled with the fact that this event takes place around Christmas, the spirit of giving was strong. I will always be grateful for the support received for this event. But beyond that, thinking about the unexpected outpouring of kindness and generosity I received from this event each year will continue to comfort me on many a discouraging day. 

Memory #6: Getting Bitten

I don't think I have ever written about this here. One fine September day back in 2013, I got seriously bitten by one of our dogs. I must disclaim that it was through no fault of the dog. No matter how many times I thought back about it, I reached the same conclusion: I should have been more cautious. 

We had always known that that dog of ours was distrustful of people. He came to us as an adult. I heard he had been passed around from one adopter to another when he was a puppy. That left a lasting impact on him. Despite his experiences, he was not impenetrable. He became great friends and formed lasting bonds with several of our volunteers. But this was only after extensive time and effort had been expended to befriend him. He placed his trust in them incrementally. When he finally decided to let them into his heart, there were no holds barred. 

I had known the dog for several years now but hadn't made much inroads with him. I decided that this was as fine a time as any to start. I went along for a walk with him and another volunteer. I guess I was too hasty and eager to extend my friendship to him. I walked too close beside him for his comfort. In a split second, he leapt forward to bite the front of my thigh. I can't remember if I had placed my left hand in front of me. But the adjoining skin between my thumb and index finger was bitten as well. Fortunately, the volunteer handling the dog recovered quickly enough from the shock and pulled him back and away. 

Have you ever been bitten? A chunk of flesh was torn and blood suddenly streamed down my thigh. I could see a layer of my fat had oozed out. I can't recall if I had been handling a dog myself and whether I passed it on to someone else. All I remember was standing at the spot on our walking route that was furthest from the shelter. I don't know how long it took for me to regain my spirits. When I did, I fished around for my phone and called for transport. It wasn't painful at first, probably due to the adrenaline. All I remember was watching dazedly as blood flowed freely down my left leg and hand. I got a ride to the hospital and waited for more than 6 hours at the emergency department to be treated. I received 4 or 5 stitches on my thigh and 2 or 3 on my hand. Getting bitten wasn't so bad. What was horrible was the recovery process. It was a pain to shower and to have to change my wound dressing twice daily. But slowly and surely, I eventually healed. 

Looking back, I count myself lucky. I know of others who had been bitten in the face, which must surely have been a thousand times more painful and inconvenient. The lessons I took away from this incident I will probably never forget in a lifetime. I learnt that things like trust and friendship need to be earned over time. There was no rushing it. Dogs are loyal creatures, but their experiences may have made them grow inhibited.

I can't say that the incident left me unscarred. I grew a lot more hesitant and anxious when handling new dogs. But success stories of rehabilitated dogs continue to make me believe that they are worth every bit of our patience, understanding and grace. If rescue work were so easy, it wouldn't be called rescue. It is exactly dogs like this that require us to open our hearts and take a step forward. Except remember, do it step by baby step and don't go rushing in like me. 

Summing Up

There is so much more to say, except this entry is already unduly long. The above are some of the memories and insights I gained in my seven years or so of being fully immersed in shelter work. They might not make sense to an outsider. But to a fellow volunteer who has been with Gentle Paws or simply someone in the dog rescue scene, what I have said might strike a chord somewhere. 

The shelter might have been something we started on the spur of the moment. But we learnt that once you commit to caring for a dog, be it a pet dog at home or a rescued dog at a shelter, it is a journey that needs to last the rest of their lifetime. The more puppies that the shelter rescues, the longer is the road that stretches out ahead of it. Yet, Gentle Paws has done so time and again because the reality is, there are just too many of them that need saving. 

Shelter work can be thankless, lonely and incredibly frustrating. This must be particularly so at a time like the present, where the big move is so close and the future seems so vague. That is why the people who grit their teeth, brush aside their worries and carry on with this journey ever so doggedly deserve nothing less than our fullest respect. That includes the people at Gentle Paws who continue to run the shelter, rain or shine, every single day of the year. 

And so Gentle Paws, thank you for the memories. I wouldn't have been the same if I had not met you. 

The little Prince

Caspian wasn't your typical prince.

He wore his feelings on his sleeves. When he was grumpy, well - he was. When he didn't like you taking his plate, he showed. When he was excited, he danced.

Caspian passed away 18 June 2016. He was found motionless that Saturday morning, lying on his side in a peaceful sleeping position. Rigor mortis had already set in. We don't know when he slipped away. He was last seen alive at around 2.30pm in the afternoon, before Wee left the shelter.

Caspian - circa 2012

Desmond and I were at the shelter that night to carry out night and medicine feeding. It had poured heavily and the lights short-circuited. We worked in near darkness, depending largely on the lights from the last row of kennels behind our shelter.

Caspian and his roommate Deena were usually one of the last dogs we would feed at night. It was hard to collect Caspian's plate for re-use. Because when it came to food bowls, he was not friendly with just anyone. To circumvent that, we would usually coax him to come to the front of the kennel, just behind the gate to have his meal. This facilitated easy plate collection when he was done.

Sometimes, Caspian came forward to eat. Sometimes, he didn't - and we let him be. Over the years, it could be any number of reasons that affected his appetite at night. He could be too busy barking at the dogs in the neighboring kennel. It could be a result of a downpour. Night feeding was almost always a race against time to ensure that everything was done before the workers locked the farm compound for the night. We weren't afforded the time to coax them to eat.

That fateful Friday night, Cas didn't come forward but Deena did so happily. It had poured and we glimpsed him lying atop his crate silently. Like many dogs, Caspian didn't like the rain one bit. In wet weather, he would go off by himself, sometimes into his room, sometimes curled up on his crate. As a result, we didn't sense anything amiss that night when Caspian didn't have his supper. We carried on with the feeding and washing without skipping a beat. I am aghast to say I didn't even take a second look.

I have thought and re-thought through the events of that night which seems like such an awful blur to me now. Why didn't we go check on him?

All I can recall - for the life of me, was feeding King his pill when we first arrived. Then we tried to coax Deckie to eat his food and medicine, because we had been failing to the past couple of nights. I recall Denver stepping forward gingerly to sniff me while I administered Rosie's ear drops. I recall Katja barking loudly at me and startling me when I latched her gate too loudly. I recall checking the time before we left and deciding to join in the search of Dessa, who had gone missing while on a trial home stay. 

Truth be told, Caspian was the furthest thing on my mind that night. This belied how perfectly healthy and normal he had been all this while. After he completed his heart worm treatment years ago and save for some skin issues that crop up now and then, his health had never been a cause for concern.

And then, we left just like that - which pains me, knowing on hindsight that we probably left him curled up on his crate, either close to death or already gone. Would it have made any difference if we had spotted him behaving abnormally? Could he have been revived, saved even?

There are some questions for which you will never get answers. This is one of them. It frustrates me knowing that we were so close, yet so blissfully oblivious.

Imagine my shock when I received the call the next morning, informing me of Caspian's passing. It was such a bolt from the blue. I recall stuttering, trying desperately yet failing to recall anything particularly peculiar about Caspian that night we were at the shelter, save for the fact that he didn't eat.

With that I have conveyed the manner in which Caspian passed on. It is now time to turn this rather sombre entry on its head and recapture the dog that he once was. Because those years that he was with us were some pretty memorable ones.

--

Caspian came to stay at Gentle Paws around May 2010, about a month after Gentle Paws commenced operations proper. He joined the shelter on a boarding basis, together with 9 other dogs from the same rescuer.

Caspian, circa May 2010, when our journey began

I don't recall his plate or territorial aggression issues surfacing immediately. It only became apparent later on when he was housed separately from the rest with Qiqi. The first real impact that Caspian's aggression left on me was when he bit a volunteer's hand and someone anxiously called for the ambulance. It wasn't a deep bite. The volunteer sustained some punctures on her hand. Much to our relief, everything worked itself out. The volunteer was traumatised but physically alright. Nevertheless, the day the ambulance came to our shelter, sirens blaring, will always live on as a story to be remembered in the annals of Gentle Paws' history. This wasn't an isolated incident. Over the years, while the Prince never did inflict any lasting injury on anyone, he did bite several more people.

You would think that a dog with such a remarkable track record as Caspian wouldn't have many friends, won't you? Well then, it is time to be surprised.

We have some very special people in the shelter who recognise that there is a reason behind every bite. Aggression is an effect that follows a cause. It does not define the dog. It is not a personality type. Behind the food and territorial aggression was a playful, intelligent and loyal dog who needed people to stick around long enough to see that. Caspian was like a diamond in the rough that needed investors to uncover its shine. Except instead of money, what this dog needed was investment of our time, effort and energy. Dogs like him thrived on consistency.

Caspian on one of our furry day outings to the park

It is terrific that Caspian was such a photogenic dog. He leaves behind him not just memories but beautiful photos of beautiful moments he shared with so many of our volunteers. I needn't even describe the manner in which these volunteers spent their energies breaking down the barriers with Caspian. It shines through from the photographs below that were taken over the years.

One of my favourite photos of Caspian with his first 

human friend at the shelter, Choo

Caspian with Murphy on our annual Walk a Paw event

Caspian with Shiung Qian, who never failed to bring Caspian 

to the dog run upon reaching the shelter

Caspian with Suat - who after Choo, joined the ranks

of those who could have their way with Caspian

Caspian with Venn, the first of our younger

volunteers to reach out to Caspian

Caspian with Li Hui, the latest volunteer 

to win him over

Caspian was one of the longest staying dogs at Gentle Paws. While he joined the shelter on a paid boarding basis, Gentle Paws eventually adopted him. All the other 9 dogs who had come to the shelter with him back in May 2010 managed to find homes over time. Caspian was the last one standing amongst them. He was with us for six long years. It came as no surprise that volunteers, both old and new, grieved his passing - some more so than others.

Caspian - just being Caspian

I will never forget those hours we each must have spent, some time or another over the years, trying to get Caspian to just walk out of the shelter compound. No amount of cajoling, coaxing or chiding could make the stubborn boy budge. He was content to stay put outside the shelter gates for hours rather than venture one step further. Perhaps it was the other dogs down the aisle barking away at him… Caspian always seemed spooked by something at the farm compound. He walked perfectly fine when we brought him to the park by car or van.

An all too familiar sight - Caspian and a volunteer stuck

at this very spot for hours on end

It used to be the case that Caspian was one of the last dogs to be walked because few could even leash him. But this changed dramatically over the years. He soon became the first one many volunteers would take for a romp in the dog run when they arrived at the shelter. Caspian absolutely loved his time there and they indulged him endlessly.

Just dancin'

For more than a few of the volunteers, retrieving Caspian's plate became a non-issue. They could shower him, administer Frontline on him and managed him when he needed to be vaccinated. Sure, he still snarled when he was grumpy. Walking him still took ages although inroads were certainly made.

Say hello to Mr Grumps

But it was clearer than ever that Caspian had become a well-loved member of the Gentle Paws family. What was most heartening was the fact that Caspian didn't have to behave any other way to earn this love. He was loved for being himself. That - to me, has got to be the truest kind of affection of all.

Well, love.

I always called him a grump. But guess what? Caspian turned out to be a rather marvellous roommate to the dogs who were housed with him over the years. From affectionate Qiqi to traumatised Daphne and then strong-headed Deena, these girls gained strength from him. Each of them thrived in those years they roomed with him. Caspian never did face much problems getting along with other dogs.

With Qiqi, his roommate from 2010 to around 2011.

Qiqi was eventually adopted.

With Daphne, his roommate from 2012 to around 2015.

Daphne was eventually adopted. 

With Deena, his roommate from 2015 to June 2016

Following his passing, I learnt that Caspian was rescued as a puppy with his siblings from Senoko drain, near an out of bounds generator back in 2009. He was adopted by an expat family who eventually gave him up when they realised they had no time to spend on him. By then, Caspian had already developed bad habits that no one bothered to correct. He had a twin brother - Oscar, who looked exactly like him. Oscar was adopted and migrated to New Zealand with his folks. Meanwhile, Caspian lived out the rest of his life at the shelter. I wanted to say that fate could be so cruel. But then I thought about it and decided that Caspian wasn't alone. He had friends - some really good ones to boot, at the shelter. Yes, he lost some in life, but I think he won some as well.

Having fun at the dog run

In one of the editions of the Gentle Paws calendar, Caspian was featured as one of the "difficult" dogs in the shelter. Whether difficult or not proved to be a matter of perception. To an outsider, he was undoubtedly a handful. He was surely not ready to be adopted by an inexperienced family. Yet, those who really knew him could see in him, with their hearts, what was essentially invisible to the eye. Caspian was stubborn, playful, moody and affectionate all at once. On his passing, I saw the grief etched into many a volunteer's face. I knew at once that he left with many of them unique memories that will stay with them long after he has gone.

Having a rollin' good time at Furry Day

Caspian was only about seven years old when he passed away. We can only lament that seven years is surely too short. But we take comfort in the fact that he doesn't ever have to go through the pain of a long drawn out illness.

My last entry was so long ago. The typewriter's dusty from unuse. But when an old friend has left us for good, I feel obliged to create a memory in writing that will not fade away with the passage of time. This one's for you, our funny little Prince.

May you go with the angels.

Prince Caspian 

2009 to 18 June 2016

Way back into love

Not too long ago, one of our volunteers randomly bumped into Vicky and her owner. Vicky was a beautiful, slender and good-natured dog who boarded with Gentle Paws for a short while about four or five years back. 

When Vicky's photo was shared in our internal group chat, few recognised her. Most of the volunteers in the group were relatively new. But the lack of recognition was also due in part to the fact that we have had too many dogs under our care the past 6 years. I remember hesitating for a split second before something in my mind clicked and I identified Vicky triumphantly.

This little episode got me thinking that it was perhaps time that someone sat down to document all the dogs who were once part of the Gentle Paws family. It didn't matter whether they had been on a short stay, took up a long term residence or were with us on a paid boarding basis. Everyone of them helped create the Gentle Paws of today. 

We no longer take in dogs on a boarding basis. But once upon a time, we were dependent on boarding fees for our monthly payment of rent. When our finances stabilised, we began to "adopt" the dogs who boarded with us on a long term basis. Eventually, the number of dogs on paid boarding at Gentle Paws dwindled to zero. The majority of them found good homes over the years.

Putting together the whole video was like taking a long stroll down memory lane. It was wonderfully nostalgic. But of course, it was also time consuming and tedious. I had to painstakingly unearth the photos of each and every dog and label them. Ironically, it was more difficult for me to find photos of the newer dogs than the older ones. Many of the dogs rescued this year were puppies who had the good fortune to be with us for a fleeting few days before they were adopted. There were precious few good photos of them.

There were also a few dogs who simply weren't featured in many photos at all. This required a rather extensive search for their photos through my entire database, which includes our photographers' Facebook albums and my own iPhoto collection. Many of the volunteers shared photos via WhatsApp which I saved in my iPhone library throughout the years. Imagine the terrible fright I got when my library mysteriously disappeared one day. Thankfully, I managed to retrieve it and quickly saved everything into an external drive before it happened again - and it did. 

Using all the photographs, I made a simple slideshow video and threw in some captions. It cost me a few extra winks of sleep and I often went to work groggy after working on the video the night before. I guess the motivation behind this is the recognition that memories might die, but the things that we create and leave behind us - will not. 

So lest we start to forget down the road, we can always re-watch this ten minute video I put together once upon a time and reminisce. My participation in the shelter is now largely reduced. Watching this teleports me back to those simple years when we slogged together toward the uncomplicated goal of building a makeshift home for the dogs - from nothing at all. 

Be warned that the dogs' photos will flash past you very quickly in the video. Because of the sheer number of dogs there is to cover, a second's appearance is all each of them have got. The video is already a lengthy ten minutes as it is. Imagine how much longer it might be if I had my way!

An outsider watching this will probably not think very much of it at all. He might even get a little bored with the faces of all those unfamiliar dogs gazing back at him. But if you were once a part of the Gentle Paws journey, then this video might mean something special to you. Watch - and let yourself be transported back into those dreamy days of yesteryear.  

In defense of people

"The more I learn about people, the more I like my dog."

Quotes like this, together with stories of abuse and abandonment can make us rather weary of the human race.

In dog rescue, it is easy to become depressed with the state of things. There just doesn't seem to be enough room for all the dogs in the world. You are often frustrated, emotional and desperate. Your world can grow pretty dark.

But bad things somehow always manage to have a greater hold on us than good ones. The shocking and abhorrent grab the headlines easily and angrily. But what about all the amazing things that have been quietly taking place at the sidelines, especially in the field of dog rescue? Those need a feature too. So that's what I will try to do.

Sponsor a Dog, please?

If you have explored this blog, you will know that we have a sponsor a dog program. It's just a label for a simple arrangement where members of the public make a monetary contribution to the shelter each month. It has silently been in operation since 2010.

Some sponsors have been quietly and unobtrusively making donations to us for years without seeking anything in return. It might be a mere $10 donation each month - some give more. But multiply $10 by the 60 odd months since the program commenced... That's minimally $600 of one's savings - given to us, for our dogs, for free.

I used to partake in the running of the shelter. I remember constantly feeling humbled by the generosity of these sponsors and the leap of faith they took in us. We may not be wealthy but really, we are rich in other ways that count.

All aboard the Paw Pack train

My last official project for the shelter was the sale of Paw Packs at the end of 2015 as part of an effort to raise funds for the upcoming year. Each Paw Pack consisted of a canvas tote bag, a T-shirt and beverage vouchers bundled together.

When I first embarked on this small project, I thought I was helming it alone. But help was so forthcoming that it turned out to be a joint effort from us all.

As a birthday gift from her colleagues, one of our volunteers requested from them the partial sponsorship of canvas tote bags for the shelter. She also proposed to help obtain beverage vouchers to beef up our rather bare Paw Pack.

Another of our volunteers approached me on the side to say she had been thinking about sponsoring the cost of printing the T-shirts. We had just taken in a bunch of senior retired k-9 dogs at that time, a few with existing medical conditions. She wanted to lend a hand monetarily and found our Paw Pack project to be a suitable avenue. Plus, she added, it was bonus period and this was how she wanted to spend it.

No, wait - that's not all.

Yet another of the volunteers pitched in to help me do up an efficient, functional, colour coded excel sheet to help ease my administrative load. I suffered from severe allergies to the excel software.

Another sent in her large order way before we even launched the sale in a show of ever ready support. She stuffed me with cash for the packs before I could ask... Fess up! Do you and your friends really need so many shirts?

Then, there was our volunteer artist who submitted designs for the shelter's paraphernalia each year. She was the professional here. Yet she could not have been more accommodating to the changes in design we requested and our dreadful timelines.

At the end of the two weeks, my fervent prayers were answered! We received over 200 orders - way beyond our initial estimate of 60. Imagine our delight! This spike in volume also gave us greater bargaining strength with the vendors to bring down the cost incurred, economies of scale and all.

When the items were finally delivered to me, I was faced with the logistical obstacle of packing everything into bundles. Time was short. Together with three fellow volunteers, we spent a couple of our week nights after work as ad-hoc factory workers, labelling, sorting and packing. We were a production line. All we were short of were uniforms, canteen food and a salary.

When the time came for distribution of the packs, I relied on a small group of volunteer friends whom I unabashedly despatched to designated points across our island for meet ups with the buyers. I also had help with postage of the packs offered to me ever so readily.

As you can see, at almost every turn in this journey, I was not alone.

And then there was the matter of our Paw Pack customers. Let's face it. No matter how hard I try to persuade otherwise, nobody really needs an extra tote bag, a t-shirt and a beverage voucher. These aren't necessities. It was apparent that the people who bought the packs cared more about the proceeds of sale going towards the dogs and less about the items that actually made up the packs.

From our interaction with the buyers, it became clear to us that most of them had a certain profile. They were easy going and flexible with the collection arrangements. One of them met me at my office because she knocked off early. Some changed their lunch plans for the meet ups at the train stations. Others collated orders with their friends and had to lug a number of packs back on their own. Most of them understood that our delivery personnel were all doing it on an entirely voluntary basis.

We ended up raising more than $10,000 for the shelter from this venture. As I whooped with joy, my fellow volunteers did too.

Volunteering at the shelter has always been all about dogs. But for me, it is too, as much about people. Because as a small shelter, our people is our greatest resource. Their initiative, talent, resourcefulness, passion and kindness are what have kept - and what I reckon will keep the shelter going.

The art of loving a dog begins with a person

Recently, the Facebook administrators of the Gentle Paws page decided to get some of the volunteers to write about their experiences at the shelter. Some of the entries were beautiful simply from how heartfelt they were.

For shelter dogs, it takes a persistent human being to fork out her weekends each week, every month for years to grow a relationship of trust, respect and love. We have had the good fortune to witness the blossoming of such relationships between human and canine time and again here at the shelter - just read those Facebook posts.

The dogs know to count on these familiar volunteers for walks and affection - even outings. They know that when these humans say bye at the end of one week, they will be back soon enough. This injects in the dogs' lives an element of predictability and hence, stability. They are assured - a rare sentiment for a shelter dog.

We often think that feeding the dogs something more or something better is to dote on them. But once their basic physical needs are met, I truly believe that what they need instead is a type of mental well-being that only the volunteers can give.

Shelter dogs need people to slow down and take time to appreciate them for them - their quirks and disposition, their likes and dislikes. Then only will they no longer be just one of the many faceless shelter dogs behind the fence. They become something quite special indeed.

Closing submissions

And so to wrap it all up - shelter work for the past six to seven years has not made me grow disdainful of the human race. Instead it taught me that when we condemn, it should not apply to the collective. Because both the eyes and the heart tell me that the essence of shelter work lies in the very kindness of humankind that is constantly being denigrated.

I love dogs but hey, I love the people that come along too. All of them, past and present, operational or not, helped create the Gentle Paws of today. Every bit of contribution - and everyone, counts.

This, in a long-winded fashion, is my defence of people.

I rest my case.

The writer's opinion is hers alone and should not be construed as representative of the shelter.

Emerging from the Ruff and Tumble: Insights from a Beginner Adopter

I adopted a dog. 

It still feels slightly funny saying that aloud. I am so much more used to watching adoption take place from the sidelines at the shelter.

It's been close to three months. I am still more positive than ever that this is one of the best decisions I have made. 

I am not going to advise on adoption. I have realised that I am so much of a greenhorn myself. Instead, what I hope to do in this entry is to share with you little every day insights that you will probably never discover until you - like me, embark on the journey yourself.

1. Separation anxiety - Whose?!

We both work full time so Dazzle has to be left at home on her own for pretty long hours. It helps that at almost four years of age, she is a full grown adult. 

Nevertheless, having gone through much of the fodder on separation anxiety online, we were concerned that Dazzle might experience the same. All her life, she lived with her sister at the shelter. While they sometimes bickered, they were each other's constant companion. 

It turned out that our girl was pretty independent. Sure, she was nervous at first and would bark when we closed the door behind us. But in just a few weeks, she learnt to settle down with her Kong and rawhide for company, not even batting an eyelid as we headed for the door. I guess she started realising that when we left, we would return.

We began to discover that the ones with the separation anxiety wasn't Dazzle. It was us! That awful ache I felt as I left for work each morning. That distracting urge to log on to the webcam mobile application to peek at her too frequently during our working hours. These were all symptoms of separation anxiety. Except we were the ones down with the blues, not her! 

2. Your life becomes one big routine - And that might not be a bad thing.

These days, I jump out of bed when my alarm rings at 6am, splash some water on my face and head out the door with Dazzle for her morning pee time. We go for a twenty minute walk. When we return, I wash her paws, wipe her face and underbelly and prepare her breakfast before I jump into the shower myself.

On weekdays, we have to ensure one of us gets back sufficiently early for her evening pee time. That's the trouble with your dog being grass trained. 

We walk her between forty minutes to an hour. We head back home to prepare her dinner. She sheds quite a bit and the messy little eater tends to leave drool stains on the floor. So we have to vacuum and clean. If we brought her for her evening walk early, we try to slip in another one just before bedtime. That - in a nutshell, is our day.

I have never been one for waking up early or cleaning my house fastidiously. I have the habit of sleeping late and I love sleeping in. Having a dog instilled in me a newfound discipline I didn't think I possessed. 

Our trusty vacuum cleaner has become an indispensable part of my every day life. They say keeping a dog dirties the place but for me, my little flat is cleaner than ever. 

Staying up too late exhausts me now because I have to crawl out of bed early the next morning. Dinners with friends, trips to the hairdresser's, shopping, holidays... Our lives have to be re-organised to accommodate her because there's just the two of us for her. 

But guess what? The most incredulous thing is, I actually find myself happy doing it all. It is very strange how things work themselves out in the end.

3. You no longer see - you look.

When you see, you do so without intention. But when you look, it is purposeful. 

Adopting Dazzle has taught me to look at the world around me and not merely to see. Much like to hear and listen, the difference is nuanced. That is exactly how my life has changed - in subtle ways that matter.

Because I have to walk Dazzle early each morning, I have come to know the people in my neighbourhood crazy enough to sneak in a jog when the air is cool and the sun has yet to shine. For the elderly folk practising their morning tai-chi, the sight of one sleepy human shuffling along with her gungho four-legged pee machine at the other end of the leash has become a familiar sight. 

I now know where the loose tiles at the void deck are because Dazzle and I pound the same pavement at least twice every day. I know where we are most likely to meet the community kitties who never fail to glare menacingly at my oblivious dog from afar, back arched and ready to pounce.

While exploring the park connector with Dazzle one night, we stumbled across the thriving dog community in my neighbourhood who gather there nightly. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that a sizeable fraction of the group was made up of mongrels. Being adopters of the breed themselves, these owners looked beyond Dazzle's wariness and reached out to her patiently. They were the first strangers she allowed to pet her without jumping away like she was scalded. Needless to say, I was heartened and so very proud. 

To vary our walking route, I find myself traipsing along with Dazzle, taking different turns in the road to uncover new grounds - grounds worth sniffing. These are parts of my estate I would never have thought to go by foot if I didn't have her. The neighbouring HDB blocks, the town park, the park connector have all become our usual hunting grounds.

Despite our efforts, there is only so much variation we can introduce to her daily walks. Regardless, she injects into each walk an irrepressible enthusiasm. She can always be seen sniffing away at the ground self-importantly, surging forward urgently like a search dog wannabe. 

Though the sights may be largely the same, my dog teaches me that every day is a brand new day and every walk a spanking new, hopeful adventure. 

4. Knowing you are not alone makes everything easier 

We all have good days. And then we have some bad ones too. Sometimes, you just don't feel up to anything at all. Or perhaps you desperately can't get away from work because of those impending deadlines. 

Yet your dog needs to be fed, walked and cleaned. Having a partner to share the load makes the going so much easier. You get to take that odd break or two when you have to. There is an indescribable sense of comfort knowing that someone's got things covered. 

Dazzle has always been more of my dog than the husband's. I will always be grateful that he received her entry into our lives with such open arms. Because on hindsight, having a pet is a big deal. Without a joint commitment to the endeavour, you are in for a very tough ride. I have thus cultivated a newfound respect for those who somehow manage to go at it alone successfully while juggling work, family and other vissicitudes of life. 

Not sure about you - but something that worked for me was having a group of friends in whom to confide throughout the journey. Because I volunteer at the shelter, I am lucky to have crossed paths with like-minded dog-loving people. I reckon the average man on the street probably wouldn't be too interested in hearing me fret over my dog's swollen eye and tick infestation or agonise over leaving my dog home alone every day. I can't tell you how comforting it is knowing you can count on these girls for their frank views and sensible suggestions. It went a long  way in assauging self doubt and helped keep any self recrimination at bay. 

If you aren't as lucky as me to be surrounded by dog people, fret not because you will make friends. Be it through social media or simply bumping into fellow dog walkers in your neighbourhood, a listening ear is not so hard to find.

5. What you see is not what you will get 

Probably the greatest take away of all for me is the realisation that a whole different personality lies beneath the dog I got to know at the shelter. 

I cared for Dazzle for four years at the shelter, since she was a 3 month old puppy. I thought I knew most things about her. But I was wrong. There were so many facets of her personality yet to be uncovered from those short hours I spent with her at the shelter. 

For instance, I found out that Dazzle is not a cuddler but she absolutely loves belly rubs. She doesn't care about toys or balls apart from her Kong which has to be full of treats. She is very food motivated. Without her sister, she can be a touch fearful. She is wary of large foreign objects. She loves racing around in the dog run. She is friendly with most other dogs but only if she is introduced to them one by one. 

She sleeps and lazes around a lot at home - a far cry from the active, irrepressible, noisy little girl at the shelter. I guess we are only at the shelter a couple of hours each day. We don't get the chance to realise just how much they snooze. But they do. A lot - and I have found out it's nothing to be overly worried about. 

These are but snippets of the personality that we unearthed at the centre of that pair of small eyes, big ears and skinny torso. We continue to find out new things about her each day, both good and bad. The hope is that we are able to help her grow into a stable, comfortable and well-adjusted member of our community. One day, incrementally.

Wrapping up and life continues

Before this post becomes unduly tedious, that is about all I have to share in these couple of months since we adopted Dazzle. Things are still work in progress and I foresee, they are pretty much always going to be. Because at the end of the day, this is one long journey of which we are just beginning.

We visited the vet to do a blood test over the weekend. Dazzle was, expectedly, pretty nervous. I had to assist in holding her neck and murmur soothing words to allow the vet to take blood from her neck area. "She really trusts you!" The kind vet exclaimed as completed the procedure and set aside the syringe. As you can tell, I was almost falling over with pride at this point. I guess that's the reward you get from adoption. You build a relationship, a bond with a living creature that strengthens over time.

It's a pretty wonderful feeling. You might want to experience it too.

In doing so, remember - adopt, don't buy. 

Change in Gentle Paws Bank Account

Dear all,

Especially our long term sponsors, ad hoc donors, volunteers and you, dear reader - 

We would like to inform of our change in bank account number which will take effect on 1 February 2016. Please note that our new bank account number henceforth will be POSB Savings 336-00423-3. Kindly be reminded to cease transferring any funds to our former account (POSB Savings 198-66799-4). We would appreciate if you could spread the word to fellow volunteers or contributors known to you. 

We apologize for any inconvenience caused and look forward to a brighter, happier future for our shelter dogs. Thank you for your support all these years!

With warmest regards,
Gentle Paws

The Magic of Furry Day

We just got back from the beach with the dogs on an outing affectionately known to us volunteers for the longest time as Furry Day. 

Furry Day began as an outing organized by a few pioneer volunteers to the nearby beach with a few dogs. They had one car and limited hands. Only a few lucky dogs got to enjoy the sun, sand and endless sea. Both canine and human really enjoyed themselves each time. In her delight, one of the the participating volunteers - Lorna, proclaimed these outings as Furry Days. The name stuck. 

That was about six, seven years ago. 

Today, we have progressed as a shelter. For one, we have many more dogs. For two, we also have many more regular volunteers. For three, we have seen many more rules implemented over time as we grew larger. Yet throughout these years, the pleasure derived from the Furry Day experience has not diminished one bit. The beach is really a sea change (pun intended!) from shelter living that our dogs experience for the most part of their short lives. For the volunteers, the reward comes in seeing the dogs relaxed and happy. 

We used to hold such outings to the beach every month. We wish we could do it more often. But because such outings were invariably manpower and logistics intensive, we had to settle on doing so on a monthly basis. 

Furry Day was carried out monthly for almost five years. At the start, we didn't have enough help and would call on members of the public to pitch in. The few of us would supervise while the participants walked the dogs. In this way, Furry Day opened the door to regular volunteering at the shelter for many of our existing volunteers.

Later, as the shelter grew bigger and we were blessed with a sizable crop of regular volunteers, we decided to make Furry Day an internal affair. Safety considerations played a big part in our decision. As the number of dogs at the shelter grew and the larger the group heading out to the beach got, the level of unpredictability increased. On occasion, we found our dogs getting into embarrassing scuffles with each other or worse, running free from their leash by accident. For the good of both dogs and people, we decided that our dogs were best handled in public places outside the vicinity of the shelter by volunteers who were familiar with them and whom they were comfortable with. 

For the past year however, Furry Day fell by the wayside. 

We participated in adoption drives and flea markets each week with a vigour and for good reason too. Dogs who have been living for years at the shelter found homes at last. With the end of our lease drawing close and on the heels of the success of our rehoming efforts, there was a shift in the focus of the shelter. It seemed the most practical and obvious path to take, with the most permanent benefits for our dogs. A very efficient "rehome team" was carved from our group of regular volunteers to front these adoption drives and flea markets with pretty stellar results. In fact, amongst those in attendance at today's Furry Day, only a fraction of the dogs have joined us before.

Today's Furry Day was the first one we had in six months. We weren't holding our annual Walk-a-Paw event this year. In place of that, we felt that Furry Day was in order before the year drew to a close. Everything felt so pleasantly familiar as we went about carrying out the outing today. Some of these fellow volunteers were people I had known for years - people whom I would otherwise never have gotten the chance to cross paths with in my life. When I bumped into Joey first thing in the morning, she gushed about how excited she was. I couldn't help but flash her the same silly grin. 

We worked together with an easy camaraderie. We all knew what we had to do. Those who came early started feeding the first dose of medication to dogs who needed them. Others started cleaning the shelter - clearing the poo, washing away the pee, grime and fallen leaves and refilling the water bowls. Our unwieldy brown water tank was lugged out and packets of ice dumped inside to provide cold water for our dogs at the beach. On the "leash up" command, we started to put on their collars and attach their leashes. The dogs' eyes begin to light up with the knowledge that something good was in the air.

Our transport providers were systematic in loading the dogs and their handlers up and dropping them off. We had a mini crisis of sorts when our new Rottweiler, Duke, failed to get up the van or car on his own. We could not lift him because he would growl. This one didn't appreciate just any one touching his backside and we certainly didn't dare risk it with him. By some stroke of genius, one of the volunteers conjured a plank from nowhere that was sturdy enough to withstand all 50+ kilos of Duke. We managed to coax the poor boy to walk up the plank and onto the back of the van successfully. It took half an hour and provided me - the sideline spectator, with lots of entertainment. Though it was comical, I have to say our volunteers were innovative and pretty darned smart. I was ridiculously proud.

Today's weather was gorgeous. The morning sunlight was gentle and there was a constant breeze. The backdrop of that azure blue sky against the lush greenery of the park made for a very beautiful day. It made me think that perhaps the heavens knew this Furry Day was a long time coming - and perhaps, they were smiling down on us.

I have't been quite involved in the operation of the shelter this year as I used to be. Today, I am reminded of everything I love about volunteering at Gentle Paws. Volunteering is not about who does more. It is not about competition or politics. Volunteering, as I have often insisted that the word suggests, comes from the heart. It is about giving within the confines of our ability. It is meant to enrich our lives without necessarily being all-consuming. Organising this Furry Day after such a long lull underscored how much I loved working in a team, this team, toward our common goal. It was nothing particularly important or permanent - just the short term aim of allowing our dogs to have a fun morning out at the beach. But it was inclusive and the mood was genial. I had a truly enjoyable time.

Furry Day may seem frivolous in the light of our other achievements. Yet every time we manage to pull off a successful Furry Day, it leaves me chuffed and feeling like the most accomplished person in the whole wide world. Because a successful Furry Day means one good day in the lives of our shelter dogs. I have a sneaking feeling we will look back one day and figure that these little things were really big things that took up the most space in our hearts.