Jo's chewed up slippers.Rocky is the chief suspect. Teddy bear is the only witness but he isn't talking
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Chewed up slippers
Jo's chewed up slippers.Rocky is the chief suspect. Teddy bear is the only witness but he isn't talking
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Interesting story from Malaysia
Loyal dogs: Lim Kom Hoon cleaning her dogs who remained inside the shop during the blaze in George Town yesterday. They didn’t leave until the owner came in the morningGEORGE TOWN: Dogs are truly a man’s best friend. Ask tailor Teo Siang Boo.Two of his dogs, Blacky and Tommy, refused to leave even when fire was about to engulf his shop in Macalister Road here.
“Luckily, they were not overwhelmed by the smoke. They were also not injured when I found them hiding under the toilet basin.
“Firemen and neighbours had earlier tried to coax the dogs out but they refused to leave and instead continued to guard the premises,” he said.
Teo’s shop was one of three destroyed during a fire which occurred at about 4am yesterday.
The other two were an optical shop and a grocery shop.
No casualties were reported during that incident.
It is learnt that losses were estimated at about RM500,000.
State Fire and Rescue Department operations officer Wan Azmi Ahmad said 40 firemen in 10 fire engines rushed to the scene after receiving a call at 4.06am.
“The fire was brought under control with the assistance of volunteer firefighters after six minutes before it was extinguished at 6.06am.”
The cause of the fire has yet to be ascertained.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Olympic Animal Sanctuary
Here is an interesting article about the animal sanctuary in Forks Washington by Kim Murphy of The LA Times
December 11, 2009
Reporting from Forks, Wash. - There have always been good dogs and bad dogs. The good dogs come when you call, romp happily with the children and stay off the sofa. The bad dogs chase after cars, trample the flower beds and pass wind under the coffee table.
Then there are the really bad dogs -- the cat-killers, face-biters and snarling, drooling wretches so mean even their owners want them shot. Those are Steve Markwell's kind of dogs.
"When people create these monsters, I think it's people's responsibility to take care of them. Not to just kill everything because it's inconvenient," said Markwell, who operates a sanctuary for canine ne'er-do-wells in the Olympic Peninsula rain forest.
"The fact that they have their quirks, the extra things you have to be cautious of, in some ways it's almost endearing. It's kind of like, the world hates you, but I don't," he said.
The Olympic Animal Sanctuary caters to the worst of the worst from around the country: dogs who would be euthanized or turned away at any other shelter, and those with records so bad that no animal welfare group would consider adopting them out.
Among the more than 50 animals currently at the sanctuary are domestic coyote mixes, guard dogs who once belonged to drug dealers, cat-killing huskies and one creature who appears to be 90% wolf and about as interested in being petted as a demon is in being in church on Sunday.
And their rap sheets are impressive.
One of Markwell's first clients was a pregnant ex-fighting pit bull named Abby who terrorized the California town of Grapevine, in Kern County, for two weeks -- despite having been shot -- before Markwell was able to coax her into his truck.
After her puppies were born, they were so mean that they largely had to be isolated. "If I let him out right now," Markwell said, pointing to one of the young toughs who was leaping and snarling behind a glass door, "he'd try to kill you. No doubt about it."
Markwell has seen litters of puppies that started trying to kill each other at 7 weeks, and a miniature pinscher who bit off somebody's lip and ate the family guinea pig.
Another of Markwell's dogs now behaves just fine except for "the first two seconds" after he wakes up, when he's almost always in a bad mood. "He was sleeping next to his dog walker, and he woke up and bit off half her face," Markwell said. "But it's easily manageable: Don't sleep with him. If I'm sitting with him and he starts to go to sleep, I'm gonna wake him up and make him leave."
The sanctuary's most famous inmate is Snaps, a mixed breed who made headlines south of Seattle in June when he attacked two women on the command of his owner, a 15-year-old girl.
A 63-year-old woman who had seen the girl and three other youths kicking the dog stopped her car. The girl grabbed the woman by the hair and began beating her with her cellphone. One of the girl's companions moved in with Snaps, kicking the dog until he began attacking the woman. Another woman tried to intervene, and Snaps bit her so badly the skin was flayed off her arms.
The youths -- ages 11, 12, 13 and 15 -- were arrested, with the dog's owner sentenced to 14 months in juvenile detention, and Snaps was facing a probable death sentence until Markwell stepped in.
"This vicious monster of a dog, he's the sweetest thing in the world," said Markwell, who often exchanges face kisses with Snaps, one of the few dogs allowed to roam uncaged inside the large industrial building, ringed with kennels, that is the heart of the sanctuary.
Markwell, 34, never intended to become one of the country's chief go-to guys for unmanageable dogs. But he's always had a thing for animals. When he was 4, he rescued a rabbit from his uncle's fur farm. As a student at St. Margaret's Episcopal School in San Juan Capistrano, he took in unwanted reptiles.
"I didn't really understand animal welfare as a movement. It was a way to get free snakes," he said. "I had a setup in the closet that my mom didn't know about. She was terrified of snakes. And I had all these boa constrictors. And these big, carnivorous frogs that ate mice. And big lizards. It was something that I totally don't condone now."
He worked for a while after college on a horse ranch and gravitated toward wildlife rescue -- moving to Washington state in 2003 with the idea of helping dogs who couldn't be helped.
He started out by taking in two or three animals he simply ran into; others followed, and when his house got too small, he sold it and bought the industrial site that his brood already has outgrown.
Now Markwell gets calls from animal control agencies all over the U.S. that have dogs fit for neither pound nor play yard. He takes the dog only when he's convinced it truly has nowhere else to go.
The sanctuary sits on a quiet side street in Forks, surrounded by woodworking mills and a few houses. Located in a zone with the highest rainfall totals in the Lower 48, the facility -- with its high-fenced exercise yard -- is four parts dog and three parts mud, generously intermingled; Markwell is usually encased in a pungent coating of dirt and dog spit.
At 6-foot-2 and 250 pounds, with an arm covered in tattoos, Markwell looks like he could intimidate even some pit bulls. But, he said, the secret of taming the untamable is not being tough. It's giving dogs their space until they're ready to let him in, exuding quiet kindness and corralling like-minded dogs together -- that allows for socialization and management of bad behavior rather than trying to immediately eliminate it.
He scoffs at "dog whisperers" and rejects potential volunteers who say they have a "spiritual kinship" with animals.
"I have absolutely no place for people like that because they're dangerous," he said. "What it takes is common sense and experience. That whole 'animals like me' -- well, animals like me too. But I take a really bad bite about once a month. Let's not rely on that as our safety mechanism."
Markwell spends most of his time in a kennel of his own, a 9-foot-by-7-foot space with a small computer desk, TV and DVD player. There, the most haunted dogs -- semi-catatonic animals who have suffered terrible abuse and seem to want nothing more than to be left alone -- live with Markwell for days at a time. Slowly they start to show some trust, coming up to sniff him when they think he's sleeping.
"It doesn't mean a dog I've had for two years and slept with in my bed isn't one day going to take a chunk out of me. It sometimes happens," he said.
"But we can't blame what is essentially a large carnivore for doing what large carnivores do: fighting and killing," Markwell said. "Dogs and humans are the only living things that aren't allowed to bite. Cats are allowed to bite all they want. Horses are allowed to bite and kick and stamp. A hamster can bite. But when a dog bites, we go crazy."
Markwell believes that the 4.7 million dog bites reported every year are a woeful underestimate. "I would say that there are probably more serious dog bites that take place in the United States every year than there are dogs," he said.
"In effect, every dog bites somebody at least once in its life, which means it goes from being 'a serious problem we have to address' to just a fact of life."
Abby, the terror from Grapevine, now adores being petted -- but will head-butt you enthusiastically if you bend down too close. The miniature pinscher spends half the time being paraded around in Markwell's arms.
But there will always be more really bad dogs, and Markwell is trying to raise $500,000 to move to bigger quarters. He gave a presentation to the Seattle Humane Society last month, but most of his donations come in small amounts from individuals over the sanctuary's website, or from people responding to one of his Facebook ads: "We rescue scary dogs."
Right now, a lack of outside space means dogs at the sanctuary must take turns romping in the exercise yard, usually in small groups. They spend most of their days in cages.
Markwell said he's been lucky that most of his neighbors in the run-down lumber mill town, known as the locale for the "Twilight" vampire series, are dog-lovers. Few have raised objections to the sanctuary's intimidating sounds. "In a town like this," he said, "I've been able to . . . get my reputation established and do a lot of things I'd have a hard time doing in a place like Seattle."
And when the dogs come here, they come to stay, Markwell said. Over time, he said, his four-legged friends mellow out, and he's the one who gets scarier.
In fact, when some local meth addicts showed up asking for pit bulls, Markwell, who does a good growl, turned them away.
"I said, 'Don't come around here anymore,' " he said. "Tell your friends the dogs are dangerous, but the owner's worse."
kim.murphy@latimes.com
Copyright © 2009, The Los Angeles Times
December 11, 2009
Reporting from Forks, Wash. - There have always been good dogs and bad dogs. The good dogs come when you call, romp happily with the children and stay off the sofa. The bad dogs chase after cars, trample the flower beds and pass wind under the coffee table.
Then there are the really bad dogs -- the cat-killers, face-biters and snarling, drooling wretches so mean even their owners want them shot. Those are Steve Markwell's kind of dogs.
"When people create these monsters, I think it's people's responsibility to take care of them. Not to just kill everything because it's inconvenient," said Markwell, who operates a sanctuary for canine ne'er-do-wells in the Olympic Peninsula rain forest.
"The fact that they have their quirks, the extra things you have to be cautious of, in some ways it's almost endearing. It's kind of like, the world hates you, but I don't," he said.
The Olympic Animal Sanctuary caters to the worst of the worst from around the country: dogs who would be euthanized or turned away at any other shelter, and those with records so bad that no animal welfare group would consider adopting them out.
Among the more than 50 animals currently at the sanctuary are domestic coyote mixes, guard dogs who once belonged to drug dealers, cat-killing huskies and one creature who appears to be 90% wolf and about as interested in being petted as a demon is in being in church on Sunday.
And their rap sheets are impressive.
One of Markwell's first clients was a pregnant ex-fighting pit bull named Abby who terrorized the California town of Grapevine, in Kern County, for two weeks -- despite having been shot -- before Markwell was able to coax her into his truck.
After her puppies were born, they were so mean that they largely had to be isolated. "If I let him out right now," Markwell said, pointing to one of the young toughs who was leaping and snarling behind a glass door, "he'd try to kill you. No doubt about it."
Markwell has seen litters of puppies that started trying to kill each other at 7 weeks, and a miniature pinscher who bit off somebody's lip and ate the family guinea pig.
Another of Markwell's dogs now behaves just fine except for "the first two seconds" after he wakes up, when he's almost always in a bad mood. "He was sleeping next to his dog walker, and he woke up and bit off half her face," Markwell said. "But it's easily manageable: Don't sleep with him. If I'm sitting with him and he starts to go to sleep, I'm gonna wake him up and make him leave."
The sanctuary's most famous inmate is Snaps, a mixed breed who made headlines south of Seattle in June when he attacked two women on the command of his owner, a 15-year-old girl.
A 63-year-old woman who had seen the girl and three other youths kicking the dog stopped her car. The girl grabbed the woman by the hair and began beating her with her cellphone. One of the girl's companions moved in with Snaps, kicking the dog until he began attacking the woman. Another woman tried to intervene, and Snaps bit her so badly the skin was flayed off her arms.
The youths -- ages 11, 12, 13 and 15 -- were arrested, with the dog's owner sentenced to 14 months in juvenile detention, and Snaps was facing a probable death sentence until Markwell stepped in.
"This vicious monster of a dog, he's the sweetest thing in the world," said Markwell, who often exchanges face kisses with Snaps, one of the few dogs allowed to roam uncaged inside the large industrial building, ringed with kennels, that is the heart of the sanctuary.
Markwell, 34, never intended to become one of the country's chief go-to guys for unmanageable dogs. But he's always had a thing for animals. When he was 4, he rescued a rabbit from his uncle's fur farm. As a student at St. Margaret's Episcopal School in San Juan Capistrano, he took in unwanted reptiles.
"I didn't really understand animal welfare as a movement. It was a way to get free snakes," he said. "I had a setup in the closet that my mom didn't know about. She was terrified of snakes. And I had all these boa constrictors. And these big, carnivorous frogs that ate mice. And big lizards. It was something that I totally don't condone now."
He worked for a while after college on a horse ranch and gravitated toward wildlife rescue -- moving to Washington state in 2003 with the idea of helping dogs who couldn't be helped.
He started out by taking in two or three animals he simply ran into; others followed, and when his house got too small, he sold it and bought the industrial site that his brood already has outgrown.
Now Markwell gets calls from animal control agencies all over the U.S. that have dogs fit for neither pound nor play yard. He takes the dog only when he's convinced it truly has nowhere else to go.
The sanctuary sits on a quiet side street in Forks, surrounded by woodworking mills and a few houses. Located in a zone with the highest rainfall totals in the Lower 48, the facility -- with its high-fenced exercise yard -- is four parts dog and three parts mud, generously intermingled; Markwell is usually encased in a pungent coating of dirt and dog spit.
At 6-foot-2 and 250 pounds, with an arm covered in tattoos, Markwell looks like he could intimidate even some pit bulls. But, he said, the secret of taming the untamable is not being tough. It's giving dogs their space until they're ready to let him in, exuding quiet kindness and corralling like-minded dogs together -- that allows for socialization and management of bad behavior rather than trying to immediately eliminate it.
He scoffs at "dog whisperers" and rejects potential volunteers who say they have a "spiritual kinship" with animals.
"I have absolutely no place for people like that because they're dangerous," he said. "What it takes is common sense and experience. That whole 'animals like me' -- well, animals like me too. But I take a really bad bite about once a month. Let's not rely on that as our safety mechanism."
Markwell spends most of his time in a kennel of his own, a 9-foot-by-7-foot space with a small computer desk, TV and DVD player. There, the most haunted dogs -- semi-catatonic animals who have suffered terrible abuse and seem to want nothing more than to be left alone -- live with Markwell for days at a time. Slowly they start to show some trust, coming up to sniff him when they think he's sleeping.
"It doesn't mean a dog I've had for two years and slept with in my bed isn't one day going to take a chunk out of me. It sometimes happens," he said.
"But we can't blame what is essentially a large carnivore for doing what large carnivores do: fighting and killing," Markwell said. "Dogs and humans are the only living things that aren't allowed to bite. Cats are allowed to bite all they want. Horses are allowed to bite and kick and stamp. A hamster can bite. But when a dog bites, we go crazy."
Markwell believes that the 4.7 million dog bites reported every year are a woeful underestimate. "I would say that there are probably more serious dog bites that take place in the United States every year than there are dogs," he said.
"In effect, every dog bites somebody at least once in its life, which means it goes from being 'a serious problem we have to address' to just a fact of life."
Abby, the terror from Grapevine, now adores being petted -- but will head-butt you enthusiastically if you bend down too close. The miniature pinscher spends half the time being paraded around in Markwell's arms.
But there will always be more really bad dogs, and Markwell is trying to raise $500,000 to move to bigger quarters. He gave a presentation to the Seattle Humane Society last month, but most of his donations come in small amounts from individuals over the sanctuary's website, or from people responding to one of his Facebook ads: "We rescue scary dogs."
Right now, a lack of outside space means dogs at the sanctuary must take turns romping in the exercise yard, usually in small groups. They spend most of their days in cages.
Markwell said he's been lucky that most of his neighbors in the run-down lumber mill town, known as the locale for the "Twilight" vampire series, are dog-lovers. Few have raised objections to the sanctuary's intimidating sounds. "In a town like this," he said, "I've been able to . . . get my reputation established and do a lot of things I'd have a hard time doing in a place like Seattle."
And when the dogs come here, they come to stay, Markwell said. Over time, he said, his four-legged friends mellow out, and he's the one who gets scarier.
In fact, when some local meth addicts showed up asking for pit bulls, Markwell, who does a good growl, turned them away.
"I said, 'Don't come around here anymore,' " he said. "Tell your friends the dogs are dangerous, but the owner's worse."
kim.murphy@latimes.com
Copyright © 2009, The Los Angeles Times
Friday, December 11, 2009
Friday, December 4, 2009
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Outing At Turf city
Rocky getting comfy on our bolster
The dogs are bathed and allowed to dry themselves on our bed after their outing
Everyone is waiting impatiently for Jo to bring them out
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Blue markings
Came back home and found strange blue markings on rocky's hind legs. did a quick search and found the remains of my pen
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Happy tales for some former fighting dogs
By CHERYL WITTENAUER,Associated Press Writer -
ST. LOUIS – Dozens of American pit bull terriers netted in the largest dogfighting raid in U.S. history are finding homes despite some who predicted aggression or trauma would make them unsuitable as pets.
More than 120 of the animals have been placed in foster homes or are headed there this week through the efforts of pit bull rescue groups throughout the U.S. An additional 117, like the scarred but smiling Tulip, await their turn.
"They are not a vicious animal. They are the victims of abuse," said Debbie Hill, vice president of operations for the Humane Society of Missouri. "That face and their eyes tell the story. They only want to be in someone's home, on a couch, or sleeping at someone's feet, maybe chew up a rug or two for entertainment. They're learning for the first time how to be a dog."
In the days leading up to the July 8 raid, the Humane Society secured a cavernous industrial warehouse in St. Louis that it transformed into an emergency shelter for the hundreds of dogs seized in Missouri and Illinois. About 100 dogs seized in other states were taken by rescue groups elsewhere.
Once at the Missouri shelter, dogs were tested by a national team of certified animal behaviorists, taken on walks, and allowed to chew on bowling balls stuffed with peanut butter. Some finicky eaters were treated to home-cooked chicken breasts to supplement meals of dog food.
The Human Society offered The Associated Press first access to the site Tuesday. During the tour, puppies born since the raid took turns playing tug of war with a chew toy in a play room. Humane Society staff members pulled a catering cart down a long row of dog cages, calling animals by name as they slid them bowls of food.
Some, like Pacific, were shy, quivering in fear of new visitors. Others were extroverts, springing on hind legs to say hello.
The foster homes will acclimate the dogs to the noises and rules of a household, and teach them basic manners.
Animal behaviorist Pamela Reid, who was part of the team that evaluated the dogs, said a surprising two-thirds tested well for nonaggression and adoptability. She's fostering one puppy, although one her favorite dogs had to be euthanized because he showed aggression toward men.
Hill said 160 dogs were put down because of injuries, illness or behavior. None of the puppies showed aggression, Reid said.
Tim Rickey, who heads the Humane Society's anticruelty task force, said the raids proved the underground dogfighting industry is pervasive.
"We scratched the surface," Rickey said. "We could have done several of these (raids) in Missouri alone."
On the Net:
Humane Society of Missouri: http://www.hsmo.org/
ST. LOUIS – Dozens of American pit bull terriers netted in the largest dogfighting raid in U.S. history are finding homes despite some who predicted aggression or trauma would make them unsuitable as pets.
More than 120 of the animals have been placed in foster homes or are headed there this week through the efforts of pit bull rescue groups throughout the U.S. An additional 117, like the scarred but smiling Tulip, await their turn.
"They are not a vicious animal. They are the victims of abuse," said Debbie Hill, vice president of operations for the Humane Society of Missouri. "That face and their eyes tell the story. They only want to be in someone's home, on a couch, or sleeping at someone's feet, maybe chew up a rug or two for entertainment. They're learning for the first time how to be a dog."
In the days leading up to the July 8 raid, the Humane Society secured a cavernous industrial warehouse in St. Louis that it transformed into an emergency shelter for the hundreds of dogs seized in Missouri and Illinois. About 100 dogs seized in other states were taken by rescue groups elsewhere.
Once at the Missouri shelter, dogs were tested by a national team of certified animal behaviorists, taken on walks, and allowed to chew on bowling balls stuffed with peanut butter. Some finicky eaters were treated to home-cooked chicken breasts to supplement meals of dog food.
The Human Society offered The Associated Press first access to the site Tuesday. During the tour, puppies born since the raid took turns playing tug of war with a chew toy in a play room. Humane Society staff members pulled a catering cart down a long row of dog cages, calling animals by name as they slid them bowls of food.
Some, like Pacific, were shy, quivering in fear of new visitors. Others were extroverts, springing on hind legs to say hello.
The foster homes will acclimate the dogs to the noises and rules of a household, and teach them basic manners.
Animal behaviorist Pamela Reid, who was part of the team that evaluated the dogs, said a surprising two-thirds tested well for nonaggression and adoptability. She's fostering one puppy, although one her favorite dogs had to be euthanized because he showed aggression toward men.
Hill said 160 dogs were put down because of injuries, illness or behavior. None of the puppies showed aggression, Reid said.
Tim Rickey, who heads the Humane Society's anticruelty task force, said the raids proved the underground dogfighting industry is pervasive.
"We scratched the surface," Rickey said. "We could have done several of these (raids) in Missouri alone."
On the Net:
Humane Society of Missouri: http://www.hsmo.org/
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Blacky
His owner calls him Muix baby.But I called him Blacky. He was the alpha of the pack
The fourth pup is the only black Schnauzer in the litter
Emma
She was the last one to leave us. Rocky had a great playmate but was no match for her and was always pinned down 
We meet up with her at dog runs and the beach regularly
Her adventure contines at http://ebi-tempura.blogspot.com/
The only girl and the third pup to be born
Rocky's birthday siblings - Moby
Dino was only with his new family for two months and was sold to another family. He is now called Moby.His new family updated us by sending this photo of him shaved down. I think he is happy here as they have other dogs to keep him company.
We sold him when he was two and a half months old. His owners named him Dino.
The first pup was the smallest one in the litter-second from left. Jo called him Da Bao which means Precious number one in Chinese
We returned from dinner on 29 Oct 2007 to find blood on the living room floor. A quick search revealed that Tessie had given birth.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Friday, October 30, 2009
Happy Birthday Rocky
We hand fed him with condensed milk and gripewater and he finally pulled thruHe would cry nonstop in pain.I was really worried that he would not survive his puppyhood
In his third week of puppyhood Rocky developed a severe case of colic. He refused to eat and we were warned by the vet that he may not make it
Tessie and pups
Rocky was the last pup to be born 0n 30 Oct 2007
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Monday, October 19, 2009
Thursday, October 15, 2009
New look for everone
The boys look shiny after the grooming
Everyone had their coats shaved down as it is tick season
Before the grooming
Friday, October 9, 2009
World's smallest dog
Here is a post in SeptemberScooter the Maltese died.At six-months-old, the Maltese pup was claimed to be the smallest dog in the world. He was going to try for the official world record when he turned one.
But he never got the chance.
He broke his leg jumping out of the hands of a minder earlier this week. His tiny leg was put in a cast but the medication he was given for it caused stomach ulcers and he did not survive.
The 8cm tall, 20cm long, pooch is now buried in his shoebox at the bottom of his owner's Gisborne garden.
ND woman's 7-foot-long dog could be record holder
AP - Thursday, October 8
CASSELTON, N.D. – Boomer may be a buster: Measuring 3 feet tall at the shoulders and 7 feet long from nose to destructive wagging tail, he might be the world's tallest living dog. Owner Caryn Weber says her 3-year-old Landseer Newfoundland keeps all four paws on the floor when he drinks from the kitchen faucet in her family's eastern North Dakota farm house.
Boomer stares into car windows eye to eye with drivers. A 20-pound bag of dry dog food lasts the 180-pound canine a couple of weeks.
Weber says her furry black and white dog "comes into the house and his tail is so high everything gets knocked around."
Weber plans to send Boomer's measurements to Guinness World Records. The previous record holder was a nearly 4-foot-tall Great Dane that died this summer.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
Monday, September 21, 2009
Outing at Macritchie reservoir
Back home the dogs are resting on our bed and trying to dry themselves by rubbing on the bed. We only allow the dogs on the bed after their baths
On the way home
Chomping down on the bones
Ebi enjoying his meal
Ebi getting excited thinking that the bones were for him
Jo bought some bones for Ozzy, Rocky and Tessie
The dogs were suffering from separation anxiety when their mommies went to buy doggy food next door
Next stop K9 cafe
From left Cobi,Shadow,Tessie,Ozzy ,Rocky,Emma and EbiEverybody arrived and we had a group photo for the dogs
Tessie was the only without her harness as she had bitten thru it
Ozzy ,Rocky and TessieWe were the first to arrive. It has been years since we were here and th eplace has been renovated with new seats and car park
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