July1
People who haven’t read Saving Gracie sometimes mistakenly assume that Gracie is my dog. She isn’t. But while I didn’t save Gracie, my husband and I did save Chachi, our husky-golden mix; he was wandering around Great Falls three years ago when we took him in.
We also saved Jillie.
Our beloved sheltie Bosco was barely in his grave when I began trolling rescue web sites for the right dog to replace him. As much as we loved shelties, we needed a dog who could stand up to the 60-pound/somewhat egotistical Chachi.
Chachi: Who, me share?
I came across Jillie’s photo on
www.montanapets.org – a compendium of shelter animals needing a new home — and my heart stopped. A couple of weeks later, Steve and I drove the 180 miles to Pintler Pets in Anaconda to pick her up.
Jillie was a Rez dog, one of scores of canines that roam the Blackfeet Reservation in a never-ending search for food and shelter. Veteran rescuer Deb Nickou spied her plopped down in the middle of a road, was struck by her vulnerable beauty and vowed to save her. By the time we hooked up with this thin and dirty creature, she’d spent a couple of months in confinement — a tough task for a border collie. She shut her eyes tightly on the ride home and wagged her tail with confusion when we beckoned her upstairs that first night. Steps were a totally alien concept.
Jillie’s brave ride to her new home
A year later, Jillie’s personality has erupted. She is easily the smartest, fastest and funniest dog we’ve ever had — the perfect complement to the Chachster. Considered a “soft” border collie — she isn’t nearly as demonic as BCs can be – she spends her days stalking squirrels, blasting through the doggy door to check on her family and wrestling hard and heavy with her best pal Chach. She gets a 3-mile walk each morning, regular visits to Great Falls’ Dog Park, and looks forward to two afternoons a week at doggy day care, where, after a quick body dip in the water bucket, she’s ready to ride herd on her fellow pooches. Loud voices still frighten her: While I was watching the movie “Precious” the other night, the sounds of Mo’Nique railing away sent Jillie running. But she’s no longer scared of mops, hoses or the sound of vegetables being chopped.
Life is good for Jillie — and exceedingly richer for us because we have her.
June18
In the course of keeping tabs on puppy mills, I run across all manner of other forms of animal cruelty: kittens fed to snakes, dogs thrown off bridges, mutilated rabbits. I thought I’d heard it all until I drove to Missoula, Montana this week and listened to renowned biologist and author Marc Bekoff describe the plight of China’s moon bears.
I was vaguely familiar with the practice of caging Asian moon bears — so named because of the cream-colored, crescent-shaped V on their chests — for the purpose of extracting bile, which is used in all sorts of traditional eastern medicines. But I hadn’t known the particulars. The bears aren’t merely caged, it turns out: they’re confined to incredibly small “crush cages,” which makes it easier to extract the bile via catheters stuck into their gallbladders. The bears are stretched out on their backs in these cages, which often measure a mere 2.6 by 4.4 feet. They’re so immobilized that they can move only their heads — and not, as Marc pointed out, for 15 minutes or 15 hours, but in some cases for 15 years. Or longer.
This painful procedure combined with intensive confinement has to be the most despicable, insidious form of abuse ever inflicted on an animal. And thousands of bears across Asia endure it in bear farms that make puppy mills seem like palaces.
I was so touched by a photo Marc showed of Jasper, a moon bear who was finally rescued from his crush cage and is now living his final years at a sanctuary. Despite his ordeal, Jasper has learned to enjoy life — and even serves as an ambassador of sorts to new bears. Years of torture failed to kill his spirit.
Marc spoke about many more aspects of animal life in his talk, which was sponsored by the University of Montana’s Center for Ethics. A professor emeritus in ecology and evolutionary biology at the University of Colorado in Boulder, he conducts research the world over for books like The Emotional Lives of Animals and Wild Justice: The Moral Lives of Animals. I was lucky enough to join Marc and some colleagues for dinner beforehand and found him funny, engaging and eloquent.