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Remembering Aquino Braganca (b. 6 April 1924), who fought for freedom
of the former Portuguese colonies in Africa. An online tribute
http://aquinobraganca.wordpress.com/ (includes many historical
references, some photographs and documents)
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The Accidental Activist - It's a Dogs Life
By Venita Coelho
For the last three days my life has gone to the dogs. Literally. It started
with the
skinny white mongrel who hung around the lane. Someone hit her with a bike and
she
began to limp pathetically. Mum and I looked at each other and sighed. We
tempted
her with food, loaded her into the jeep and took her off to the GSPCA. The vet
there
suggested we also spay her and asked if we had more stray dogs in the area.
They
were willing to sterilize them all for free. The only caveat was that we would
have
to catch the dogs ourselves.
For some time now we had watched with alarm the rapidly growing population of
strays
in our vaddo. One particular corner was the haunt of several. I often fed them
the
food my dogs wasted. When I neglected to do so for some time, they would lie
down in
front of my jeep when I rounded the corner and refuse to let me go until I
distributed biscuits and dog love. But from two dogs that particular gang had
grown
to an assortment of about ten dogs of all shapes and sizes. The night before I
spotted one of them with a huge wound on her neck that looked very maggoty. A
neighbour told me that someone had tried to chop her with a koito. People's
patience
with them was wearing thin. But killing strays doesn't reduce the population.
The
female dogs have an inbuilt system that makes them deliver larger litters when
the
population for that area dips. The only sure solution is sterilization so that
the
next generation never appears.
I enlisted Mum as my able lieutenant and we made a plan of action. We fed the
dogs
over a couple of nights. I whistled madly to call them so that they would
associate
the whistle with food. Then one night I whistled, gathered the gang and went
forth
like the Pied Piper, holding their food over my head. They followed - straight
into
an empty house. I put the food down, nipped out and locked the door. I had
already
warned neighbours they were in for a noisy night, but everyone was so relieved
to
hear that something was being done about the strays that they offered full
support.
A cacophony of miserable howls rent the night air as we drove off.
Next morning I discovered that all but two of my prisoners had squeezed through
a
gap and vanished. I hunted high. I hunted low. I tramped through fields and
yelled
myself hoarse. Then it struck me that another neighbour had been feeding them
lately. I appealed to her and she gamely pulled out pots and pans and clanged
them
together. In seconds there were four eager noses at her gate. They included the
white dog with the awful wound. Gotcha!
The van arrived but I took one look at the wire noose that the handler was
carrying
and hastily said that I'd get them into the van myself. Wheedling and coaxing
in
dulcet tones, I hefted the dogs one by one and staggered to the van. Not one of
them
even attempted to snap. One little brown fellow repeatedly licked my nose as I
put
him in prison.
While we carried out Operation K9, bikers passing by stopped to take the GSPCA
number and neighbours shouted encouragement. Only one particularly small and
mangy
specimen eluded capture. I was determined to get him, but the little fellow had
a
whole lot of chase in him. He ran for his life, with me in perspiring pursuit.
I
splattered through the cow shed and galloped through the fields. I thundered
through
the garden, diving around bushes. When I finally got my hands on the little
fellow
he yelped as if he was being scalped. As soon as he realised I was not going to
harm
him he covered my tee shirt with mud and my face with smelly slobbering licks.
I
stuck him in the van and wiped my dripping face. Eight dogs. Not a bad haul. I
put
my head into the van to check all were well.
The sight that met my eyes restored my faith in the intrinsic harmlessness of
strays. I had just grabbed these dogs, picked them up and shoved them into a
cage.
But I was greeted with waving tails and happy barks. Everyone had recovered
their
spirits and they looked like a happy family all set to go on a picnic. Off they
went. They will be back in four days, treated for all illnesses, injected for
rabies
and sterilized. And all of this is for free. The GSPCA does not charge for
strays.
You can make a donation if you like.
If you want to do something about the population of strays in your area you can
call
the GSPCA at 2416180 . Go on. Join the KBA - the Kutta Bachao Abhiyaan.
(ENDS)
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The above article appeared in the April 7, 2009 edition of the Herald, Goa
