Rescue FAQs:

• What is the Rescue Organization?
• Why is there a need for rescue organizations?
• What happens next?
• Is there a fee?
• How do I get my new dog to my place?
• Can I return the dog if it doesn't work out?
• Why should I consider a rescued pet?
• Where can I find a rescue organization on the Internet?

What is the rescue organization? First of all, it is entirely made up of volunteers - people who love animals and just want them to have a fair chance at a decent life. Some work in animal shelters like your local shelter; some work in veterinary offices; many are just ordinary folk who get involved with a local organization. Whenever news of a dog in need reaches a volunteer, the system springs into action.

Why is there a need for rescue organizations? There are many reasons. Sometimes the reason is a dog who has been discarded at the shelter because it was too old, too young, misbehaved, in need of some special treatment, the owners had to move, etc, etc. It's amazing how many excuses there are. It is so unfortunate that many pets are victims of the all too often poorly conceived Christmas gift, or the owners were simply not prepared for the commitment. If a dog is a young female, it may end up at a puppy mill. Then, at the end of its useful productive years, it will end up back at the shelter. It's a shame too that dogs as well as other animals are observed to be abused by their current owner. We've all seen many a poor thing tied up outside on a short chain, often with no proper shelter nor someone to give it love and attention. A very hard case to deal with, but nevertheless, one that rescue organizations have to confront when they try to convince the owner to give up the pet so it can be placed in a more decent environment.

What happens next? At any one time, rescue organizations keep a list of prospective clients who are willing to foster a dog, or want a pet of their own. These clients have been pre-screened in the hope that they will be well suited to provide a good home. It is the mandate of the rescue organization to spay or neuter the pet and try to make the best match. Sometimes it is not possible for a rescued animal to be immediately placed in its new home, and temporary shelter is required. We here at BHRQ* are fortunate to have known friends that have been   a foster home, a safe house and do training for those pets on their way to a new home. We are associated with Canadian Pet Rescue Services  and can certainly provide more information or put you in contact with someone who can answer your questions. Contact us at BHRQ and we will be glad to help.

Is there a fee? Normally there is an adoption fee which helps cover the costs incurred as appropriate for spay, neutering, vet bills, etc, charged at a very nominal rate. No matter what, compared to your local pet store, the fees are a bargain. (This applies for adopted, not fostered animals.)

How do I get my new dog to my place? When the prospective owner is not located near the animal in need of a home, arrangements are made to transport the animal. It may be via a single volunteer or a relay of volunteers depending on how far it has to travel. If there are no volunteers to cover the route, the prospective owner may have to make the pickup. Fortunately this doesn't happen too often; it just may take a few days until someone is available.

Can I return the dog if it doesn't work out? Despite the best attempts to pre-screen a new owner, it may simply not work. Fido may not fit into his new home. The rescue organization knows this is possible, and that is why many adoption contracts specify that the animal can be returned. As a matter of fact, it is usually the case that it must be returned to the rescue organization from where it came, or at least an affiliate.

Useful Web Sites

A must read for any basset owner.. or potential owner is .. " The Basset Hound Owner's Survival Guide.. by Diane Morgan "  Wonderful insight  to this incredible complex breed.. as well lots of laughs along the way.. 

Paws For Concern*

Ever been to a puppy mill? Seen the horrible conditions? Dogs living in their own filth in tiny cages so small they cannot get proper exercise. The fur is all matted. And where there is no fur, what should have been healthy skin is covered with festering sores caused by neglect, disease, and parasites. If they're lucky, there might be a bowl of dirty water to drink. A decent regular meal is practically unheard of. A mother dog never gets to know the pups she has just borne because they were taken away and sold to a pet store. And don't believe for a second that pet stores are unaware of where some of the cute little puppies really come from. If you think this is an exaggeration, then come to Quebec where there are no laws to prevent such atrocities. Anyone, and I mean anyone can get into the business without even requiring a license. Add to that the fact that the authorities will never carry out an inspection of the business and you have a very sad state of affairs. It's disgusting! Quebec has the worst record in the entire country for ignoring animal abuse! It's not that the politics of "Liberal versus PQ" has anything to do with it. All governments have been equally neglectful in allowing the situation to flourish. Want to learn more? Then please check out "No Puppy Mills Canada"  for more information about puppy mills, also called "backyard breeders".

The story is not always about a puppy mill situation, and it's not always in Quebec. Take the case of Gilmore, a 12 year-old Basset in Ontario, who, through no fault of his own became a pawn in the battle between the rights of a dog owner and Ontario law which could not, or would not protect him. Gilmore was chained up to an unheated barn in which the law could not intervene because the basic items were provided: some food, some water, some shelter. There was no requirement for heat/comfort, nor love, nor compassion. Gilmore was old with not much time left in this world. He could have used a bit of pleasure as he ended his years. But his owner, despite the pleading of BHROntario and the local vet, would not give him up to a better life. No one could intervene. We will never know why this owner acted as he did, and we will never know what happened to Gilmore, but we resolved to do what we can for others.

For many years, we here at Paws For Concern*  enjoyed the companionship of two wonderful female Bassets and realized that other dogs, like Gilmore, were not as fortunate. As our concern for animal neglect grew, we joined a canine rescue organization called the Basset Hound Rescue of Ontario (BHRO). Why an Ontario group? There were several rescue organizations in Quebec helping many breeds, but none existed for Basset Hounds, which just happens to be the breed we have. Then we learned about another organization that rescues all kinds of animals, including Bassets. Now we are pleased to be associated with Canadian Pet Rescue Services (CPRS) in Quebec. In fact, most of our rescues have been through CPRS. Our 2 beloved females are gone, but we have since acquired 2 males of our own; adopted a third male who was scheduled for euthanasia. At any one time we probably have one or 2 dogs under foot as they wait for a new home. It's not always easy, but in the words of BHRO: "Saving ONE basset may not make a difference to the world...but it makes a world of difference to that ONE basset!"

"How Could You?
When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was "bad," you'd shake your finger at me and ask "How could you?" -- but then you'd relent and roll me over for a belly rub. My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect. We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs" you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day. Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love. She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" -- still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy. Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a prisoner of love." As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch -- because your touch was now so infrequent -- and I would've defended them with my life if need be. I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway. There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure on my behalf. Now, you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your only family. I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said "I know you will find a good home for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers." You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar as he screamed, "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!" And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life. You gave me a good-bye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too. After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked "How could you?" They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you that you had changed your mind -- that this was all a bad dream... or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me. When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited. I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood. She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured "How could you?" Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, she said "I'm so sorry." She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself --a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place. And with my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my "How could you?" was not directed at her. It was directed at you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of you. I will think of you and wait for you forever. May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty."

Jim Willis