Outside the clinic we ran into Chandi and his owners. Chandi was a young little pup when he was rescued from the streets of Karachi by a kind soul. They brought him to the Karachi Animal Hospital for a checkup where Dr. Otho dewormed and then later vaccinated him. The kind soul who rescued the pup kept him at their house for a few days, and then shifted him to the hospital where he stayed another couple of days, after which the puppy was adopted by Mustafa and his son Ali Sher. They named him Chandi. Mustafa is a labourer who works and lives at an under construction building behind the hospital. His family adores Chandi and look after him well. He’s got a collar on and isn’t tied up so is free to roam around the neighbourhood.

Just today Mustafa’s brother Ghulam Shabbir adopted two very healthy 5 week old mongrel puppies from someone he knew. He lives in the same building and said he was giving Sohna and Mona milk and bread but their tummies were out. We asked him to get both the pups checked out at the Karachi Animal Hospital. Dr. Kathio and Dr. Otho gave them a clean bill of health. They dewormed the pups and asked Ghulam Shabbir to bring them in again after a week for their vaccination. They also recommended he give them rice with chicken but that’s not something the owner can afford. Watered down milk and bread is probably all these pups will get twice a day.

Inside the hospital, the vets were busy treating someone’s dog. A few veterinary students from Baqai Veterinary College were also present for volunteer work and to learn from Dr. I.H Kathio’s experience. Dr. Kathio will be off tomorrow for lectures in Peshawar and at the Veterinary University in Tando Jam, where he also has a charity animal clinic.

Just as we were leaving, we spotted a lovely young black and white dog in the empty plot to the side of the hospital. We found out that he was rescued by a nearby shopkeeper, Mohammad Zawir, who saw him roaming around the neighbourhood injured. So he brought the dog to the Karachi Animal Hospital where Dr. Otho treated his wounds. The dog is better now and the hospital staff has even put a collar on him. He looked happy and healthy and well cared for. We did ask Mohammad Zawir to put out an earthen bowl with water for the dog. If anyone would like to help provide this, it would be most welcome!

All three pups -Chandi, Sohna and Mona – and the black and white dog are absolutely adorable. They are lucky to have found such loving folks to look after them. We have two such rescued dogs with us that are still looking for good homes. If you would like to adopt any one of them, please email us at info@pawspakistan.org or post the links below on your facebook profile to help spread the word about them. Thanks!

Brown and White Dog (mixed breed rescued from DHA)

White Dog (mongrel rescued from Saddar)

Visit pawspakistan.org/support for ways in which you can support PAWS in its work.

A report on the Edhi Animal Shelter by Sidra Omer.

Support PAWS on Valentine's Day!

FeeFee was always smiling or whining. She was barely ever serious. She also had a short fuse. Her spurts of anger were obvious from her mad dash to the gate, teeth bared, legs splayed and a low guttural growl that made the bravest of guests perch on the balls of their feet, ready for flight.

She was eight when I last saw her. Having given birth to a litter of three beautiful puppies, she was still more playful than her kids.

I would give up, out of breath with sweaty brow, well before she tired out. I would marvel at this tiny animal’s forceful energy. She would turn sharply, breaking the circle she would be weaving around the garden chairs in her game of ‘chase me’ and dive in front of me. Planting her triangular head and whiskered white ears over her dainty paws, she would then proceed to ogle at me with her big brown eyes, an endearing expression that can be best described as pouting.

She barely got sick. But when she did, it would change her demeanor. She would lose weight; her skin would sag; her eyes would go dull; her whippy tail would lose energy and she would start to sigh a lot.

She developed a fungal infection in her ear that, despite rigorous treatment, worsened with time. It developed into a burning skin disease that made her lose her hair and her appetite. She would fight the debilitating pain by sprawling on the wet grass in the dead of winter. The frost apparently numbed her suffering.

My sister Muni and Ami, horrified at the sight of Feefee sprawled in the cold, uncovered and shivering, would drag her back to her kennel, at times locking her in. Thinking, the poor souls, that they were doing what was best for her. Little did they know this was the last thing she needed.

When the disease started to spread from animal to human, Feefee’s vet raised the alarm; “hospitalize her at once and see a skin specialist for yourself!” he ordered.

Muni and Ami took Feefee to the local veterinary Hospital, the only available option. The University of Veterinary Animal Sciences is the oldest (125 years) and largest veterinary care hospital in the Punjab. But that doesn’t make it the safest. I’ve done reports on the place, and although the place has improved considerably, the conditions in which the research animals are kept are deplorable and inhumane.

She was there for three days and two nights. A phone call from the hospital broke the bad news on Saturday. Muni took the call. ‘You’re dog has expired- we’re sorry.’

What does one say at that point? I can imagine Muni standing in Ami’s doorway, phone receiver in one hand and the knife from chopping vegetables in the other, mouth ajar, eyes bulging and then what? What does one say to some indifferent, probably bearded Pakistani lab assistant who is busy picking his nose and examining his find on the other end of the line? How does one kill the messenger when the messenger is some one so deprived of empathy he can’t tell a loss of a loved one from the loss of a dirty green booger on a laboratory floor?

Poor Muni must have felt so alone in the world at that point. I wish she didn’t have to take the call and find out that way. I wish I were there. After our first dog died, Lassy the graceful and beautiful Alsatian, I had closed up and refused to cry. In the process I unintentionally left Muni out in the cold. She loved Lassy like no other. Since then, I promised myself I would never do that again.

But I’m here, some 10,000 miles away from where my family silently grieves… How do you comfort each other on the phone? How do words suffice for the yawning gap left in your home?

I remember we compared the two dogs; Lassy was the graceful, older and more mature one with a heart made of gold, and Feefee was what we lovingly called “Gawar,” or the uncouth one. She never learned how to indicate she wanted to go; I failed in potty-training her. Our training sessions on the terrace with the aide of sugar balls only resulted in two things; Feefee bouncing off the walls with the sugar rush and developing the habit of pee-ing just when someone would pet her.

I also failed miserably at teaching her how to fetch. Feefee would chase after whatever you threw her way, catch it, chew it, attempt to mutilate it and then leave it a few feet further away from where it landed. She would return to you with a gleeful smile as if to say, ‘Now you go get it.’ And so we would. It soon became our special fetch game- in reverse.

She preferred meat to milk and hated bread. The roti that we fed her with the choicest offal had to be broken into tiny pieces otherwise she would completely disregard it, leaving it for the birds to pick on in the morning.

She had the habit of picking her favorite pieces and walking away with them. She never ate directly out of her bowl. She loved ice cream. She loved tearing things up into tiny bits. Yes, even the morning paper.

And then Feefee had her bad days; when she just wanted to be left on her own. She’d dig herself a hole somewhere in the corner of a flower bed and lie there, curled; the look in her eyes distant and cold. Times like these she would growl if someone came near her. She wouldn’t even let me close. And then, just like that, she’d come bounding out, with that cracked smile of hers, black lips spreading from ear to ear, and embrace you as if to say ‘I’m sorry!’

Feefee was the most communicative dog I have ever come across. She would come hollering at you, demanding to be pet and played with. If you refused, she’d lie on her back and wave her feet at you, emitting a bark-like noise that sounded halfway between a pleading ‘come-on!’ and an admonition.

If you still refused, she’d sit back up and talk to you between a yawn that made her sound like a complaining child who’s denied candy. And if that still didn’t melt your heart, she’d hurl herself at you, planting her tiny padded paws on your knees and squeak until your ears hurt and you just gave in.

Feefee was a great watch-dog. She barked her head off at the smallest provocation. She woke the house up when a burglar jumped into our lawn. We called the police but the man managed to get away before the cops got there.

She hated cats. She could bring the peace of an afternoon siesta to a crushing halt with her vicious, berating barks. We’d come out groggy eyed to find a smug looking feline, sitting all puffy on a ledge. Thoroughly amused, the cat would watch a hysterical Feefee go black and blue from flinging herself at an eight foot high wall again and again.

Feefee’s bark was far bigger than her. She sounded like a monster from the other side of the gate but was shockingly small framed. When we went to Khunjerab, I left five-month-old Feefee in a friend’s care. Their she would routinely terrify guests on to beds and chairs with her barking. Only when she would emerge, her tiny body jerking with the force of her barks, would they climb down, embarrassed and thoroughly amused at the sight of the little creature.

I remember when I brought her home the first time. She was only three months old and flee ridden. The vet said she wouldn’t make it if we didn’t get the flees off her soon. She was weak and scraggly. After many days of scrubbing, plucking and washing, Feefee radiated like a white cotton ball. Two sparkling hazel brown buttons for eyes and a small black and wet heart for a nose were the only markings on that bundle of white.

It was cold out on the terrace, so I’d smuggle her into my bedroom-not accepted practice in my home. She’d snuggle under the bed and wet the carpet in at least four different spots by morning. The routine ended one night when Ami walked in and sniffed the air suspiciously. Before I could cook up a convincing story about a window left open, Feefee came ambling out from under the bed and peed at Ami’s feet.

We thought of calling her Reema and other random names. I kept calling her Meera, unintentionally, of course. Eventually, it came down to Feefee because somehow it fit perfectly.

Now Feefee is gone. She died alone on the cold floor of a shady hospital ward on February 6, 2010. None of us were there to help her. None of us were there to hold her tiny paw as she slipped out of consciousness, one last time. I feel more responsible than anyone else. I brought her home and I should’ve seen her out. Somehow that thought will never let me be.

For what it’s worth, Feefee, you will always be our favorite girl.

The mentality that conveys the message that we should help humans before we help animals is the same mentality among some who say we in America should help the poor in America before we help the poor in the third world countries. There are still some whites in the west who believe their predominantly white country should help the whites before helping blacks.

Such mindset arises comes from a kind of prejudice against other nation, other race, or other species. As the people evolved ethically they began to recognize the evil of racism. Prejudice against other species is known as speciesism and need also be looked down upon. It is encouraging to see that in spite of all the evils (primarily man made) going around the globe, there are people who do care for animals since animals have no voice.

There are more animals upon the earth than there are humans and yet there are more organizations helping humans than there are organizations helping animals. Wonder how many animal hospitals are there in Karachi as in comparison to the number of hospitals for humans!

One distinct difference between animal abuse and crime against humans is that in the later case, at least, the society admits that crime against humans is an evil and must be stopped; on the other hand, animal abuse is so much embedded in the fabric of our society that we take it as a norm.

Yes there are plenty of problems around the world, like war, global warming, world hunger, poverty, disease, torturing of prisoners, nuclear proliferation. But we never criticize the group “Doctors without Borders” for not helping out on the problem of global warming, neither we criticize the environmental groups like the Green Peace or Friends of the earth for not working against child abuse or subjugation of women in many cultures.

What is important that we do whatever we can, to minimize the evils in the world; and put our efforts where our heart is, and which we can do the best; and not try to belittle those who are doing something to make tomorrow a better world.

It is naïve to think that we could set priorities on the world problems, and then address them sequentially. It is naïve because very often problems are interrelated, such as it has been well established that animal abuse is directly linked to crimes in the society and domestic violence. This is just one example and there are many more if we free ourselves from our very narrow outlook toward the problems.

It is indisputable that humans have power over animals and having said that, in the appreciation of those who do work to help animals, I will close my comments with a quote from the 19th century American philosopher Harriet Beecher Stowe that reads:

“It is a matter of taking the side of the weak against the strong, something the best of people have always done.”

Syed Rizvi
President and Founder
Engineers and Scientists for Animal Rights
San Jose, CA

Based on a tale from Hindu mythology, this is the story of Yudisthira, a pious king whose place in Heaven is determined by his love for a dog. Animated by Wolf Clifton in the style of an Indonesian shadow puppet play. Winner of best animation on animal rights at the 3rd International Rights Film Festival “STEPS” 2009.

This summer was my third visit to the northern areas of Pakistan. I have always enjoyed myself so much there – the people are so friendly and hospitable and, of course, the scenery is breath taking. Being a veterinary surgeon by profession I decided it would be very interesting to try and find out about the livestock problems and see if there was anything I could do to help. I spoke to my friend (who lives there) and contacted PAWS for some guidelines and then started canvassing the medicine suppliers in the UK. Novartis, CEVA and Animalcare were supportive of the cause and gave me some supplies to take.

My plan was to go to the Polo Tournament at Shandur and do as many short treks as time allowed. The latter would frequently involve camping on the high pastures. That way I would see quite a lot of animals and meet the local people they belonged to. I had a fascinating time, saw and learnt a great deal.

The local people arranged for me to meet their dispensers and also the local Veterinary Officer in charge. I knew before going to Pakistan that Foot and Mouth Disease was endemic but I saw the morbidity it produces in the animals for myself. Both the dispensers and local people alike were desperate for supplies of very basic medicines just to treat the blisters it produces.

Generally the livestock looked very well and certainly was cared for to the best of the owner’s capabilities. Preventative medicine as so largely practised in the UK is very difficult to do there on the ground – vaccines are virtually unobtainable and far too expensive for most people, similarly ecto- and endo- parasiticides are in very short supply.

Life is so different compared to the UK and I am full of admiration for how well people manage. Now I have a much better understanding of what is needed and hope to be able to give more support in future.

KARACHI, Dec 25: The government and the media have not yet given due priority to rabies that claims thousands of lives every year in the country.

One major reason of this high mortality is the fact that the government has not developed any strategy to address this serious public health issue.

Official apathy can also be gauged from the fact that 75 per cent of the public sector hospitals are still using the old vaccine which has been found ineffective in many cases and declared obsolete by the World Health Organisation two decades ago.These points were highlighted by Dr Naseem Salahuddin, head of the department of infectious diseases, Indus Hospital, at a public awareness programme held at Aga Khan University auditorium on Friday.

More here.

IT seemed that sanity would prevail this year but the end result was quite the opposite. It was earlier reported that no special permits had been awarded this time round for the annual slaughter of the houbara bustard, an endangered migratory bird that is ostensibly protected under Pakistani and international law. However, it now transpires that Arab dignitaries have been awarded at least 27 permits for their wintertime shooting spree in Pakistan.

More here.