by Katerina Lorenzatos Makris ~

One month ago today, I received word from the Netherlands that our sponsored puppy Theseus* was quite ill. It came as a disturbing surprise. For the weeks prior I had been seeing lovely photos and cheery descriptions of him and of the six other puppies we had sent from Greece to an animal welfare group in the Netherlands for re-homing. The cause of his illness was not yet known.

[*Theseus was not the pup’s real name. I’ll avoid real names in this and in the upcoming series of articles about him, opting to keep the focus on the what, the how, and the why, instead of on the who.]

My heart sank. Theseus was about six months old, no longer a fragile baby, but not completely out of the woods, either. You really don’t want to hear that a young animal is sick. They don’t have enough defenses yet.

I tried to shoo away the negative thoughts. Theseus was in the best of hands with his loving and intelligent foster mom, one of my dearest friends, who in recent years has adopted two of my other Greek rescues and fostered a third. Besides, like all animals, especially dogs, Theseus would have amazing reserves of strength and a powerful will to live. Things would work out fine.

Yet I couldn’t completely banish the ominous cloud that seemed to loom overhead. Nor could I ever have imagined just how dark and potent that cloud would turn out to be, or the astonishing storm of controversy that soon would rage around it.

 

‘Should we help them?’

Theseus has been a part of my life since August, when another dear friend, this one on my family’s home island Kefalonia in Greece, emailed me about him and his siblings. She and I share a deep love for our island’s many desperate animals, and even though these days I am far away in California, sometimes the two of us have teamed up to rescue and re-home them.

My friend had noticed an urgent Facebook plea made by a Greek Good Samaritan regarding five puppies, just about eight weeks old, abandoned and starving by the side of the road, near the remains of another dog, possibly their mother. The Good Samaritan was feeding them and doing what she could, but had nowhere to keep five puppies.

“Should we help them?” my friend asked me.

It’s awfully hard to say “no.”

I suggested she enlist the help of a fellow rescuer on the island to go collect the pups and take them to the veterinarian, then to a pet hotel run by two of our other friends, where they would stay till they were prepared for adoption.

Meanwhile I would contact re-homing groups for their help in finding forever families for our latest bunch of kids, most likely abroad, since Greece has way too many needy animals and far too few available homes amongst its relatively small human population.

Filthy, frightened puppies transformed

All missions were accomplished. The babies were de-flea’d, dewormed, vaccinated, and microchipped. Our friends at the pet hotel took wonderful care of them, as they always do. Three of the pups endured a few days of the typical puppy diarrhea and nausea, but with treatment from the vet and plenty of TLC at the pet hotel, they sailed through.

The five pups were transformed from filthy, frightened little orphans to robust and playful goofballs. My friend paid them visits, brought them treats and toys, took photos, and sent me info about their blossoming personalities.

About Theseus, she wrote, “He is very friendly and leader of the pack.”

Meanwhile another rescuer found two abandoned puppies elsewhere on the island and took them to the pet hotel for safekeeping. He was overwhelmed with rescues at that time and had been unable to make plans for the two pups. So we offered to include them in our efforts for the other five. The two litters were combined to create one big, boisterous family.

Theirs for life

In response to my queries, a re-homing group in the Netherlands agreed to accept all seven animals into their program. The arrangement was that my friend and I would handle the puppies’ expenses while they were in Kefalonia (she and I paid about 1,600 euros total for pet hotel and veterinary care), and the re-homing group would handle the logistics and costs of their transportation.

Three months after the babes’ initial rescue, representatives of that foreign re-homing group came to Kefalonia and took the seven sweeties back with them.

Although the pups then became the responsibility of the re-homing group, my ethic is that once I take animals into my heart and under my wing, I pledge to be theirs for life. This credo is shared by many of my fellow rescuers. We know the animals won’t be ours after they are re-homed, but we remain theirs. No matter where they are, no matter who they’re with, if they need help, and if we’re told about it, we’ll do our best to provide it.

‘Causing panic’?

If I say that Theseus has been calling to me since the day he fell ill, some might accuse me of melodrama. I never met Theseus. I never touched him. I never held him. And now I never will. Yet it does feel as if this beautiful, sweet yellow boy calls to me, clearly and insistently, every day.

Actually some have accused me of melodrama and worse regarding Theseus’s illness and death.

While I’ve been reporting on my conversations with eight veterinarians in the Netherlands, Greece, and the United States, including Theseus’s attending vets, as well as specialists, trying to gather and provide accurate information about what mysterious illness might have killed this puppy so quickly and so viciously, the terms some folks have used to describe me in both public and private forums have included (among others not so fit for publication) “hysterical, panicked, egotistical, insane,” and last but not least, “stalker.”

The head of the Dutch re-homing group who took Theseus and the other six pups used many of those terms on Facebook and in emails, and stated that spreading the word about Theseus’s illness—even to the adopters and foster families about what several veterinarians said must be done to protect his litter mates and others from risk—would cause “panic,” would damage the reputations of all needy dogs in Greece, and would also damage the reputation of her group.

Losing friends and getting publicly tarred and feathered has not been pleasant for me. But those are the least of my worries.

The monster with no name

The main issue has been this…

On December 27 I received an email from Theseus’s foster mom letting me know that the pup was suffering weakness and stiffness in his hindquarters and back legs.

By the next day it had progressed to a phase of excruciating pain (screaming when touched or moved), then to full-body paralysis, next to coma, and finally to death.

This all occurred within a mere three days’ time. Copious veterinary intervention went to no avail.

At that point, the monster who killed Theseus still had no name. It was fast, it was fierce, and it was totally stumping his vets.

I wanted a name.

When something kills one of my babies, I’m going to hunt it down. It might be very, very good at hiding, and in the end, it might elude us all. But not before I’ve done everything I can to smoke it out, and to warn others of the threat.

This faceless monster had already taken one innocent victim. How many more should be sacrificed in silence? In fear of causing “panic”? And isn’t that fear itself a form of panic?

Can’t adopters and foster families, who presumably are rational adults, be trusted to receive and responsibly handle vital information about their animals’ health—information that several veterinarians said they ought to have?

Should we really tiptoe around, keep our minds and our mouths shut, and let an potential serial killer get away with murder?

Why not investigate, learn all we can from the veterinarians, and be completely transparent with the information, especially toward the adopters and foster families of the victim’s litter mates?

To me the risks of not doing so far outweigh any imagined benefits. To me, withholding information, particularly in a possible life-and-death situation, is not just shocking, not just anathema, not just absurd. To me it is irresponsible, it is cruel, and it borders on fraud.

Inconvenient truths

All along, since the first moment of this heartbreaking and bewildering episode, it has felt as if there were things Theseus wanted to tell us, or at least needed to tell us, about the invisible and invincible assailant who mowed him down.

Things that might be inconvenient.

Things we might rather not know.

But things that might save the lives of other puppies and dogs in the future.

That’s the goal of the upcoming series of articles about Theseus’s illness—to discuss the information that I feel he would like for us to have, the lessons he would like for us to learn.

If only we’ll listen.

Please check Spicy Stories Save Lives again soon for the next article in this series, or hit the SUBSCRIBE button above to receive email notification of our posts.

Here at Spicy Stories Save Lives, we depend on sales of our romantic fiction to rescue and sponsor animals like “Theseus” and litter mates, and to create  real-life happy endings.

Won’t you please use a couple of bucks to enjoy a fun read, to spice up your life, and to replenish our rescue fund?

We, the animals, and our fellow rescuers will thank you kindly!

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Spicy Stories Save Lives proudly sponsors needy animals in the U.S. and around the world.

For example we help Kefalonia Animal Trust (KATs) provide free spay/neuter for hundreds of animals per year, which is one of the best ways to prevent the abandonment and misery of puppies like Noah and Kyla. Please give to KATs via PayPal or bank transfer. Spay/neuter and education are the animals’ best hope for a better future.

Also please consider Animal Rescue Kefalonia (ARK), another group on the Greek island of Kefalonia who run a shelter  and work miracles with terribly few resources. 

Spicy Stories Save Lives and the author of this article have no affiliation with the rescue groups mentioned above, other than as a friend, volunteer, and donor.

Seen our book?  Your Adopted Dog: Everything You Need to Know About Rescuing and Caring for a Best Friend in Need, by Shelley Frost and Katerina Lorenzatos Makris, available through Amazon.com.