FOOC Galicia
Weather report - we have had a glorious high these last few days, bringing clear blue skies and temperatures up to 15 C. Most of the ground has now dried up after the constant rain and wind of the previous fortnight.
Animal report
Spain is not famed for its friendliness to animals, with its national sport of bullfighting and the omnipresent festivals involving throwing, chasing or teasing goats.
Pets don't generally fare very well either. Many are abandoned when they become too much for their owners, often before the summer holidays so as not to have to pay for kennels or adapt their plans to suit pet-ownership. Driving through the countryside you can regularly see packs of skeletal hounds, nosing around the rubbish, barking at passing cars and trying to scavenge a meal any way they can. The unlucky ones end up squashed at the side of the road. The lucky ones are taken to la protectora, or abandoned dogs home.
This is where DH and I headed when we finally made the decision to acquire a dog. I had put it off for a long time, claiming that dogs and flats don't mix, but eventually my desire to have a pet overcame my misgivings. We swore it would be the start of a healthier life, as we would have to commit ourselves to thrice daily walks at least, to let the creature do its business.
I've never been to a pound in the UK, but I imagine the smell is similar to the one we arrived at. The stench of hundreds of dogs all crowded together is impossible to imagine. We were met by my friend P who is a vet at the protectora. She took us into a small, windowless room, a little like a garage, where the elderly owner spent our entire visit harranging various journalists, potential dog-adopters and local politicians on the phone about animal rights.
My friend P had confided in me beforehand that she had a favourite. Would we like to see her? "Sara" was brought into the room. A small, long-haired beagle-cross-griffon. Very shy. She skulked around the room, not daring to approach at first, but then coming nearer and nearer, until we could stroke her and tickle her tummy. It was love at first sight for me! The poor thing stank of pee, poo, dog etc. Putting her in the car I was thankful we'd had the foresight to bring an old sheet along to cover the seats.
In her first day at home, we were like the parents of a PFB. "Has she peed yet?" "What's she doing?" "No, I'll pick up the poo, I don't mind!". She was very shy, sticking to her bed unless we physically lifted her up and carried her somewhere else. But she's gained confidence, and today went for a run on the beach and a walk in the countryside off the lead.
The people at the protectora had so many tales of cruelty and abandonment to tell. Sara's start in life is unknown, but they suspect she was kept as a hunting dog but proved useless at hunting and so was abandoned. We hope to give her a much brighter future though.