WITH so much violence being heaped by humans upon other humans, in particular the indiscriminate slaughter of innocent civilians in Mumbai, and the appalling death of the infant known as Baby P, this may not be the best time to draw reference to the cruelty inflicted upon animals by people who should not be allowed to have one in the first place.
However, an incident told to me by one of my daughters is reason to once again approach a subject close to my heart.
A bull mastiff had been abandoned in a park, tied to a tree, on a bitterly cold night. It was found in the morning by someone walking their own dog, alerted to the mastiff’s plight by its howls and whimpers.
The poor animal was frozen and distressed but, thanks to the action of the man who found it, and the care and expertise of the RSPCA staff who answered his call, the dog is recovering in rescue kennels, waiting, eventually, to be rehomed.
Now I know that, compared to the physical damage inflicted upon Baby P, and the atrocities in Mumbai, the plight of a dog, particularly a bull mastiff, which wouldn’t top the list of favourite canines, could be viewed as of relatively little consequence.
However, to me, and people like me, for whom animals are living things to be protected, enjoyed, cared for and loved, cruelty towards them is upsetting. It also makes us angry.
I don’t know if efforts have, or will be made to trace the mastiff’s owners, and if they will face prosecution.
All I can say is if they could no longer afford to keep the dog, or for whatever reason didn’t want it in their home, a call to an animal rescue centre would have brought assistance. Tying the poor sod to a tree in temperatures well below freezing is an act of extreme cruelty.
There are similar stories concerning abandoned pets at every rescue centre, and no doubt there will be many more in the coming months as the economic downturn continues to claim jobs and people’s livelihoods.
My family have always been animal lovers. During our 50 years’ marriage, my wife and I have never been without a dog; for years we had three and two cats.
My eldest girl, a vegan, has three Dobermanns; my middle daughter has two Great Danes and a Basset Hound, so there’s not a lot of room in her house, while my youngest, whose two retired greyhounds died of old age, currently has a cat and a fox, which she adopted after finding it trying to eat a piece of chewing gum on her drive.
An ambitious development project near her home had obviously driven off most of Reynard’s usual supply of food and he was starving. So every night he gets a jumbo-size chicken thigh from Morrisons supermarket, and is thriving. I help out with the cost, currently around £1 a day, and also have my mate Boris, the Miniature Schnauzer.
I am hoping that, when eventually I stand in front of the Big Fisherman, he’s an animal lover, too.
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