Carol Noreen is an animal lover. A school principal by profession, everyday, she puts on a big cooking pot of dog and cat food on her stove. The idea is to provide food to owners who cannot afford to feed their animals. One such owner is her watchman who has adopted a stray cat.

“I cook food for the animals myself, I do not like to leave this job to my servants,” she says.

Noreen volunteers for Pakistan Animal Welfare Society (PAWS), and has rescued several strays. She shares one such instance when she saw an injured dog, at PIA Colony, Gulistan-e-Jauhar, while going to work. Since she could not rescue it all alone she called up her team for help. The vet in the team, sedated the dog, and took it for treatment.

More here.

Dr. Zulfiqar Otho and Dr. Shalla Hayat of the Karachi Animal Hospital check a blind donkey rescued by PAWS.

All creatures on earth are sentient beings. There is not an animal on earth, nor a bird that flies on its wings – but they are communities like you. 

The Quran 6:38

Swiss animal rights lawyer, Antoine Goetschel, recently made international news when he defended a dead pike in a case of cruelty by a local fisherman who was overheard boasting about landing the fish after a ten minute long struggle. The basis of his argument was that fish are sentient beings and that the fisherman had caused the pike needless pain. Islam is a religion where the sentience of all animals has been declared in the Quran. However, the expected application of such a belief is sadly amiss in Pakistani society. In fact, many of the most vocal advocates for animal rights in the history of Pakistan have been non-Muslim.

Under British rule, the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals Act was passed in 1890 for the entire subcontinent. Earlier, the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (SPCA), modeled after the RSPCA in the UK, had been established in Karachi in 1878 by a group of animal lovers who convened a public meeting at the Frere Hall gardens. After Partition in 1947, India and Pakistan made their own amendments to the original 1890 act. The West Pakistan Prevention of Cruelty to Animals Act was ratified in 1961 to include rules regarding the licensing of farriers, bits and harnesses for animals, draught hours for buffaloes, restrictions on loading animal drawn vehicles, and the age of service of working animals.

The act, however, needs to be reviewed and further amended to meet the requirements of the current times. The Government of India, for example, established an Animal Welfare Board in 1962 which was set up in accordance with their Prevention of Cruelty to Animals Act of 1960. Some of the functions of this board are to advise the government on any amendments required to the laws, and to stop the killing of stray dogs and enforce the Animal Birth Control program throughout India. This has institutionalized the entire animal welfare movement by strengthening existing laws and ensuring they are implemented. The board requires, for example, the setting up of SPCAs in each district with an attached hospital on land given by the local administration.

In Karachi, up to the 1980′s, the SPCA had a functional animal shelter with a capacity of 150 animals. Lady Constantine, a Swiss resident of Karachi, was the society’s president at the time. She had limited funds and manpower, but was untiring in her efforts to work for the cause of animal welfare. Unfortunately, her death in the early 1990′s spelt a break in this century-old tradition of service to animals in the city. Soon after Lady Constantine’s death, the SPCA shelter land was taken away by the government and the special animal court at the Sindh High Court wound up. At present, Punjab is the only province in Pakistan where the SPCA is still active. The city of Lahore has an office and shelter for the society’s work on the premises of the University of Veterinary and Animal Sciences.

In such an absence of institutionalized support, the efforts of some individuals and organizations that are working towards the betterment of animals, is nothing short of heroic.

The Brooke Hospital for Animals is an international equine welfare organization whose motto is ‘healthy working animals for the world’s poorest communities’. The Brooke was established in Pakistan in 1991, and has centers in 12 districts across Pakistan. They have managed to turn entire communities around in their attitudes towards their beasts of burden, empowering both man and beast in the process. In 2009, for example, Brooke helped 280,000 working horses, donkeys and mules. It is also estimated that the work of this single organization supports the livelihoods of approximately 1.5 million people in 250 poor communities in Pakistan.

For more than 10 years, the World Society for the Protection of Animals (WSPA) and its member society, the Bioresource Research Centre, Pakistan (BRC), led by dedicated campaigner Dr. Fakhar-i-Abbas, have worked tirelessly to put an end to the cruel practice of bear baiting. In 2007 alone, BRC persuaded over a 1000 mosques in high-prevalence areas to preach against bear baiting. Over time, bear baiting incidences have seen a sharp decline. BRC also has a bear sanctuary in Kund (near Peshawar) that houses rescued bears.

The world’s largest NGO and Pakistan’s biggest charity, the Edhi Foundation, also maintains an animal shelter in the outskirts of Karachi. This shelter is home to several cats, dogs, donkeys, crows and kites.

U.S.-based veterinarian, Dr. I. H. Kathio, regularly contributes his expertise to the training of future veterinarians in colleges across the country. He also supports several veterinary clinics by donating medical literature and equipment, and is available to vets for consultation on complicated cases.

Urging the public’s moral conscience to consider the poor state of animal welfare, there are voices in the media which keep animals in the news. Three names, in particular, deserve mention for highlighting the cause of animals in the print media – senior columnist Ardeshir Cowasjee and journalists Bhagwandas and Faiza Ilyas.

Tiger the puppy, just moments after he was rescued by PAWS from a mangrove swamp in Karachi.

Our own organization, the Pakistan Animal Welfare Society (PAWS), was founded in 2004 in response to the poisoning and shooting of stray dogs in Karachi. It has had a modest start and at present is run entirely by volunteers. While we do not have a shelter, office or paid staff and all funds raised go directly towards rescuing and treating animals and awareness-raising and advocacy work, we have managed to attract over two thousand supporters on facebook who wish to see better conditions for animals in Pakistan.

In the last decade there have also been a number of noteworthy events relevant to animal rights. In early 2000, the Pakistan Medical Association (PMA) and a U.S. based organization, Engineers and Scientists for Animal Rights, in collaboration with the Pakistan Arts Council, held an exhibit of drawings by 6 to 8 year old children expressing their concern for animals. The drawings were compelling, especially considering that the children had never been exposed to any animal rights literature or website before.

Dr. Jerry Valask, a renowned U.S. Surgeon, also visited and spoke at the PMA House against the use of animals in medical research, and Pakistani media Geo TV and SouthAsia magazine were recognized at the Humane Society of the United States’ prestigious Genesis Awards in Beverley Hills.

In conclusion, while stray dogs are still poisoned with strychnine or shot, adequate veterinary facilities are scant, and illegal animal trade flourishes in Pakistan, all of the above are reasons to hope this will not remain the case. In addition to precedents in faith, there are historical precedents to persuade us to be kinder to animals. Pakistan’s founding father, Mohammad Ali Jinnah is a reference point in any discussion that touches upon the vision for the country. It is often overlooked that Mr. Jinnah was an animal lover. It is a legacy equally deserving of being honored.

Article by Maheen Zia and Mahera Omar, co-founders of PAWS. Printed in May’s issue of SouthAsia magazine.

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.

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.

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.

The Kennel Club of Pakistan‘s All Breed Championship Dog Show in 2005. Watch Part 2 here.