#straysofmoldova part 5 – Longie

Autumn 2015 – I was walking Bonnie, my tiny four-pawed daughter, when we saw a dog on the brink of starvation in one of the courtyards not too far from my home. She was, beyond doubt, one of the worst cases that I have ever seen. Her bones were showing, you could count every rib and every bone of her back. She was a nursing mum.

I saw her some days before, heavily pregnant, begging the passersby for food. Unfortunately, when it comes to wondering strays – not the usual residents of your Chisinau neighborhood – there’s rarely a chance for you to actually feed the dog. Sometimes you don’t have the money, sometimes there’s no supermarket or butcher’s nearby, sometimes they just run off before you can return with a juicy bone…

Longie, as we later called her, stopped and stared at us. I took Bonnie in my arms and sat down. The stray approached me and put her head on my lap. Stroke me please…  

The next day we went out searching for the litter, there weren’t that many places to hide and the pups simply had to be nearby. Two days later, we found them hidden beneath central heating pipes. You had to get through some heavy undergrowth in a secluded spot where nobody really walked. This is what saved both her and the pups, 5 beautiful furry babies, who were all adopted.

This winter I almost cried when I saw she was alive after almost a month-long absence. She’s no longer a skeletal creature, because Longie has character and skill. She knows where to get food, who could give it to her and she’s not below taking the food away from more timid dogs. She also is quite crazy and loves running around in circles.


#straysofmoldova part 3 – the pups that lived under a tennis table

Back in the Soviet days, most of the neighborhoods had playgrounds that could put modern equivalents to shame. The remnants of the former cult of sport remain scattered around Chisinau courtyards. This particular courtyard – a two minute walk from my apartment block – had table tennis tables made of solid concrete. These days these weathered and worn things hardly remind of their former purpose…

This is one of the five pups that were born under one such table. I’ve noticed them by pure chance, when I took an unexpected detour on my way from the gym. Only two male and one female pup remained at that point. The mum would sometimes be present too, although she was mostly out scavenging for food.

The female pup, as I was told, was once thrown into one of those huge garbage bins used by the nearby houses. The one that threw her was a kid. At one point – after the original incident – she could not walk at all, once again falling victim to abuse.

About two weeks later, all three of the pups were found with a broken neck. Almost at the same time, one of the local street cats was found with her head smashed in. The witnesses have once again named a child as the murderer. Nobody was ever punished.

The mother of the three pups was still alive in Autumn 2016.

Review: Marley & Me: Life and Love with the World’s Worst Dog by John Grogan

John and Jenny were just beginning their life together. They were young and in love, with a perfect little house and not a care in the world. Then they brought home Marley, a wiggly yellow furball of a puppy. Life would never be the same.

Marley quickly grew into a barreling, ninety-seven-pound streamroller of a Labrador retriever, a dog like no other. He crashed through screen doors, gouged through drywall, flung drool on guests, stole women’s undergarments, and ate nearly everything he could get his mouth around, including couches and fine jewelry. Marley shut down a public beach and managed to land a role in a feature-length movie, always winning hearts as he made a mess of things. Through it all, he remained steadfast, a model of devotion, even when his family was at its wit’s end. Unconditional love, they would learn, comes in many forms

If you love dogs – Marley & Me is guaranteed to make you cry. Of laughter and sadness in the end. Me, I ended up wailing in the public transport. None of my pooches were even remotely as naughty (understatement?) as Marley, a dog-loving heart cannot stay calm and not emphasize while reading the last of John Grogan’s memoir. It’s touching, it’s fun and if you have a “world’s worst dog” it would probably make you feel less alone.


Anatomy of cruelty

They were running when they heard the shots, my mum said. Some sort of PE class outside of school. Chisinau city workers were shooting stray dogs with rifles, in the open, in daylight and in front of children. That was in the 1970s, sadly, over 40 years on when it comes to stray dogs on the streets of the Moldovan capital, the only thing that changed is the weapon of choice. Now, the penalty for barking, distrust of humans and a rare attempts to snap is poison, or an iron club that would smash the head in and make the tail stop wagging. That’s what happens at home. 

I spent almost half of my childhood at my grandparent’s place. They still live in one of those typical Soviet five-storey buildings that you so often see in the cities of former USSR. Those were the days of rooftops, park adventures and dogs. You don’t ask where they come from, I suppose. Back home, we had a Rottweiler, Sabrina. I loved her dearly. There was my Saba and the other dogs. Back in the day I made no difference.

In gran’s yard there lived Tobik, a bearded beige fellow. Baby – a pincher with shiny jet-black fur and and I-love-you-all-to-bits temperament. There was Red, a furry stray constantly limping around and not letting people close. Somebody broke her paw and it never really grew back together. She was constantly afraid of all moving things. I managed to pet her once, I think she even licked my hand – before she disappeared forever. And finally, there was Palkan. The staffie cross with “tiger” stripes and piercing yellow eyes. Almost everyone in the building thought him dangerous. I thought him strange and magnetic. That’s how our friendship began.

 A little kindness and Palkan started following me around everywhere. He started to live by my grandmother’s door, curling up on the rug for the night by the 4th floor apartment. Not everyone liked him there, even though the most trouble he’d get into would be an occasional squabble with the staffordshire from the 5th and barks at drunkards that used to wonder in sometimes. Us, my family, he’d sense us coming up the stairs just as we entered the building. He’d poke his head between the rails and wait… Palkan had this hilarious habit of greeting you with the front of his body lying down on the side, and his bum in the air, tail waging ferociously… About three years of wonderful moments with the dog I never owned, until he disappeared too. He’d wonder off sometimes, for days, but would always come back. Until he just didn’t. Once, a car tried to run the both of us over, because he dared to bark at the driver. My grandmother’s neighbor from two floors down was known to feed stray dogs with meet laced with poison and sometimes – sewing needles. Gran looked for him around the neighborhood and went to the dog pound, hoping that he wasn’t yet butchered like all of the other dogs that ended up there. We never saw Palkan again, until one day I met his spitting image one year later, a female stray which must have been his sister. I almost cried of shock seeing the resemblance….

Palkan was one of the thousands of dogs that fell victim to the cruelty of Moldovan street life. I’ve been living abroad for quite some time, and each time I return to Chisinau one thing is blatantly evident – there are less and less dogs in the streets, but you barely ever see stray dogs as pets. So, what happens to all of the puppies and their parents and grandparents? They are simply killed in a manner that would have revolted any civilized society, not to mention a country with pretension to enter the European Union.

Animal cruelty is an inherent problem in Moldovan society. By all means, as a dog owner throughout my whole life and a friend of many people who can’t imagine life without a furry friend, I don’t brand all of my compatriots cruel and abusive. On the contrary, quite a few people in Chisinau can’t stand seeing starving animals in their yards and in their streets. Yet, the problem is big and it’s impossible to ignore.

Where do these dogs come from? A lot of them are thrown out. Untrained, eating too much, becoming a baggage after the death of an elderly owner… you name it. Some – consider the dogs a commodity, nothing better than a piece of furniture. Some dogs run off from their callous owners. It’s quite common to see a stray with a German shepherd or Staffordshire terrier traits. Some despicable owners allow their male dogs to breed with strays, as they watch. Just like that, breeding more miserable dogs just because they think their pure-breed boy needs some “entertainment”. In some extreme cases, you could see dog fur belts and dog fat being sold, because according to some – there’s no better remedy….

In the end, thanks to a handful of very common issues Chisinau was left with thousands of unattended pets. And what has been done about them? Organized murder. In Chisinau, there’s a place called the Necropolis, where all caught stays are butchered by city worker. They used to use electricity, now it’s mostly smashing the dog’s head in. The photographs taken near the place over the years are some of the most gruesome things you’d see in your life. Cut off heads and paws, skinned dogs, puppies burned in the fire… There’s no end to it.  The most horrifying thing is that these workers who commit such atrocities, they don’t go around streets looking for dogs – they are called. Barely anyone asks questions or bothers to think what happens with the dogs afterwards. Sometimes, dogs are poisoned by ordinary people. Just because. Admittedly, some packs grow to be dangerous, but on and on, dogs that have been fed by half of the building, neutered and loved by the local children get killed. Sometimes, just in front of the children they play with. 

Adoption is rare. Some of the dogs that have been picked up on the streets end up there again in a while. There are several shelters, none founded by the government. A number of those receive funding from charity organizations in Germany, a few others exist on the mere enthusiasm of its workers and occasional donations from the locals and animal lovers from abroad. One of these shelter, “Live” has a neuter program, aiming to release the dogs and thus help reduce their population. Numerous international animal protection organizations whom Moldovan campaigners have addressed have offered no tangible help or recommendation whatsoever. Animal rights activists received numerous replies stating no interest, inability to help (even with campaign recommendations). Last one of those, stated that that particular international organization helped Romanian stray dogs only. All strays need help, everywhere, yet a blunt refusal to provide even informational council or an attempt to pressure our government and city officials – in the light of all the factual proof, photographs and testimonies that Moldovan animal protection organization can provide – that’s abandonment. With the absence of funding, government support (no animal protection laws!) and the dangers of the streets it’s a fight that’d  last for dozens of years to come.