I was walking home from my grandmas one day through the woods (oh the cliche) and heard unusual noises coming from a hollow under a tree..sounded like something dying so I curiously went and looked to find a litter of kittens half frozen in the snow. I waited awhile, looked around for a mother and found none. I assumed the wolves or some other animal got her and took the kittens home about 5 miles away.

They took over my bedroom as at the time I had a rottweiler who was pretty possessive of me. I tried sleeping in the room and locking her out.. but she broke down my door... so i took the couch and the kittens took the room.

A few days later a large gray cat was hanging out in the yard. My dad said very clearly NO.. you are not bringing in any more strays. I disobeyed him and left my bedroom window open with a dish of food for the cat. (I was a sucker for animals as a kid, I took in strays all the time)To my surprise the next time I went in to milk feed the kittens with a dropper.. the gray cat was feeding them. Somehow the mother cat had found her way the 5 miles to my house and waited outside knowing the kittens were there.. until I let her in. It blew my mind.

They stayed until the kittens were old enough and then I found them all homes. My sister in law still has two of the kittens. One is really bizarre its a long hair Siamese but it was born without a tailbone.. so it looks like a half bunny half cat lol I'm told when it jumps it looks like a hop and often looses round little turds like a bunny too. I was probably 10 or 11 when this happened(I'm now 24). There both still very healthy cats.

One of the most fascinating story of Animal Rescue, I read in the news was in September 2008, wherein a German Shepherd named Buddy rescued his owner from a seizure by calling 911. It was also found out that it was the third time that said dog has called the emergency number just to report seizure of his owner.

-quote-

"On a recording of the 911 call Wednesday, Buddy is heard whimpering and barking after the dispatcher answers and repeatedly asks if the caller needs help."

-end of quote-

Several years ago one of the boys came to the house and said there was a bird that had his head chewed off. I started to go on about my business, but since he was pretty distraught over it, and was saying we had to save it, I went with him to what I assumed was a dead bird.

The bird was a juvenille Cedar Waxwing, and was, in fact, still alive, and just sitting in the middle of a lawn. His head had not been chewed off, but might as well have been. It looked as if maybe a cat had gotten hold of the poor creature and basically scalped it. You could see part of his little skull.

I didn't think there was much I could do for him, but there was a little boy next to me that HAD to do something. So I put my finger next to the little guy, and he naturally perched on it. I could see the bird was in shock, and I carefully took it back to the apartment.

I knew the bird was going to die, and so I decided it would be best not to let the boy think we could save it. I told him, "this bird is not gonna live. So what we're gonna do is try to take away some of its pain." Had it been up to me, I would have simply put it out of its misery right then and there, but knowing what the boy dould take and what he couldn't, I didn't do that. Instead, I went into the woods nearby, and got what I needed to make a simple poultice. I applied the herbal medicine carefully to the birds wounds and hoped it eased his pain. I then made a nest to warm his body a little bit, and then we all waited.

From time to time I would apply a little more of the herbal remedy I made, and eventually everyone went to bed. By this time, I had begun to really pity this creature and so I ended up falling asleep next to him.

At some point during my sleep, I dreamt that I was laying on the floor next to the bird, and he wasn't in the shoe box that we made his last nest in. I looked around and when I did, he flew down to me. Suddenly, we were in a forest and the bird had all his feathers. He had his skull cap back. He even had his full crest on the top of his head. He hopped around me for a few seconds, like he was showing me he was ok. Then he flew away and was gone.

I woke up right away, looked in the shoebox, and the little Cedar Waxwing had departed from his still warm body. I got up and went to bed, knowing that something spirtual had happened and that the little bird was grateful that I tried to make his last few hours as comfortable as possible.

This story happened a year ago when a dog saved a newborn baby boy in Argentina. The dog sheltered the newborn baby who was abandoned by its 14-year old mother in a field in rural Argentina. The abandoned baby was found in a field with the dog and her newborn puppies.

A resident outside La Plata called police to report that he had heard the infant baby crying in a field behind his house. He went outside and found the infant lying beside the dog and its six newborn puppies. The dog apparently carried the baby 50 meters from where his mother abandoned him to where the puppies are huddled. The doctors said if the dog hadn't done it the baby could have died because it was chilly at 37 degrees outside.

---quote---
Though the infant had superficial scratches and bruises and was bleeding from his mouth, he was in good shape, Melia said.
The next morning, the child's mother was driven by a neighbor to the hospital and told authorities that the 8-pound, 13-ounce infant is hers, Melia said.
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The teenager was immediately given psychological treatment and was hospitalized, he said. She has said little about the incident.
The child has been transferred to a children's hospital in La Plata, 37 miles from Buenos Aires.
------end of quote--

My step-dad works from home. He was watching the news at noon and saw the Humane Society was showing off some recent additions. One of them was a two year old black Cocker Spaniel mutt. My step-dad instantly fell in love. The dog's name was "Kolby". He had run away from his owner twice before and they apparently were not claiming him again. He shows my mom the news bit and they decided to sleep on it.

The next day, they figured they would go and play with him. As they get in line, this obnoxious woman cuts them in line and blabs on her cell phone, disrupting and annoying everyone. She's there to see Kolby, as well. She takes her 20-30 minutes and comes back saying how much she loves this dog and wants to take him home, but she leaves. My parents take their turn, but only get five minutes since the place is closing. In the five minutes, they know they want him, but are not sure they are ready for a dog (still missing the one that died five years earlier). The Humane Society says they cannot hold dogs and they re-open at noon, with a first come, first serve basis.

My mom heads off to work in the morning. As she's walking into her store, she has something stuck to her shoe. It's a piece of candy in the shape of a dog bone. She calls my step-dad immediately and says he had better get the dog because this is a sign. He goes to the Humane Society at 11:30 a.m. and is the first person in line.

His name is now "Murphy" and he is an extremely well behaved dog. We have had him for a year now and he is an absolutely amazing dog!

Thane

Here is the story of Darla. Out of all the animals we have rescued and/or fostered (well over 50 cats and dogs), her love and constant companionship is something that I will never forget.

Her story is still posted on the rescue site that we volunteered for, so I won't rewrite the books:

"This is Darla ... a sweet, loving 6 yr old female with the most horrific story. Darla was abandoned by her people on the side of the road with a broken leg. Despite the intense pain and her fear and confusion of being abandoned, this girl, in true Rottweiler fashion, waited patiently for her family to return ... They never did.

Animal control did come however and once they saw her emaciated body, the broken leg and the tumor on her shoulder the size of a softball, they took her straight to the vet to be euthanized.

The vet that Darla was brought to is a friend of our organization and he fell in love with Darla and could not put her to sleep so he amputated the leg and shoulder. Sadly the hysto results on the lump came back with bad news. Darla has bone cancer. Xrays have revealed that her lungs are clear and she is adjusting quite well to life on 3 legs. "

Our home was Darla's last stop, but she stayed with us much longer than expected and I believe she loved every moment of the attention she received.

For the first few weeks after bringing her home, she developed stomach bloat, which was not only dangerous, but it was something that needed to be monitored constantly. The hours spent with her well past midnight helped to form a bond between us.

The wonderful vet, who was responsible for keeping her from being euthanized, worked quite far from my home, so Darla and I had lots of "car time" together as we went back and forth to get her looked at and treated.

Even though she only had three legs, she made every effort to greet me at the door and to play fetch. Her desire to live was out of this world; as if she could sense that her time with us was reaching it's end.

Everyday with her was a blessing and her loss created a huge void in my life; one that I have learned to accept and grow from.

My uncle loved birds his entire childhood. He spent all his spare time helping birds with broken wings, and babies that prematurely fell out of their nests, stuff like that. He went to college and became a biologist. Then he went to work in a lab and was the first person to successfully breed falcons in captivity. He has brought several species back from near extinction. He saved whole species! My Uncle and Aunt have a farm in South Dakota for breeding and raising these birds. They can continue their work because some people around the world will pay for these kinds of birds to use for hunting (which sounds terrible, but it really helps save the birds, and they take very good care of their birds). They are Vic and Jan Hardaswick.

When my dad was about 62 years old, he was the director of a veterans hospital up in Tacoma Washington and lived on the grounds. One day when I was visiting, we noticed from his window that a loon was swimming in huge but perfect circles on the American Lake, a short distance from my dad's door. Dusk came and all of the other waterfowl flew away leaving the poor loon all by himself. My dad decided the bird must somehow be pivoting on a piece of fishing line. We phoned the Audubon Society to hopefully get somebody out there to rescue the stranded creature but they showed little interest. In the oncoming darkness, my soft-hearted father's heart was breaking and he decided to take an old, abandoned, leaky row boat out to try to do the heroic deed himself. The lake was large and it made for a lot of bailing and rowing to get to the loon. Turns out, he had swallowed a fish hook and the other end of the line was stuck to the bottom of the lake. Sitting knee deep in boat water, my father grabbed the bird and got bitten savagely as he clipped the line to free him. The bird flew away immediately leaving my father both soaked and bloody, but he was smiling when he reached shore. He slept well that night.

My two brothers, my mom, and I visited a local convenience store where we met a beautiful auburn-colored dog when I was turning 12. She looked to be a lab and shepherd mix, who was rather large with big beautiful brown eyes. The dog was very friendly and well-mannered, so I played with her for a moment while everyone else went into the store. She seemed to be sick and her skeleton was showing, due to being underweight.

Our hearts went out to her and we all cried, because we couldn’t just up and leave her in this condition to go home to forget her. Immediately, my brothers and I begged my mother to let us help the dog, but at first she said we wouldn’t be able to keep her. She decided to buy some can dog food for her and the lady behind the counter gave us a cup of water. We watched her eat and drink up all we had, but she still seemed hungry and the dog climbed in our car.

Mom went back into the store and bought her some more food, while my brothers and I asked everyone if they knew who the dog had belonged too. After an hour with this sweet dog, my mom let us bring her home and we made posters to let her owners know that we had her. We placed the posters out all over the community and we mowed lawns the next day, in order to earn enough to take her to the local vet. We took her to the vet on the following day, after we had earned enough to afford the visit and we learned that she was very sick with heart
worms.

My two brothers and I cried, because we wanted to save her, but the treatment was so expensive.

The vet asked us, “What we wanted to name her?”

My little brother stated, “Brandie…because of her color!”

So, we made payment arrangements with the kind vet and he agreed to help us save her life, but he said the treatment could kill her. We paid a certain amount each week from our earnings, but we knew she had to have the treatment to live. It was touch and go during the treatment, but she fought hard and finally seemed to be getting better. After a couple of weeks, she was playing with us and fattening up on good food.

We knew we did the right thing every time we played with her, because she was one of the best dogs I ever met. She became our best friend from the night we met her at the local store, but we never imagine we’d spend over ten more years playing with her. Our angel Brandie protected us, as we worked hard to take care of her and keep her healthy. Honestly, I have no doubt that we saved her life, but she became our miracle as we got to know her.

My short story is about how we unwittingly rescued two puppies from the local animal shelter in the same month.

When I was young, we rescued an orphaned German Shepherd from the local animal shelter and named her Cassi, after the Cassiopeia constellation. She was just a pup and we had taken just a few pictures of her with our Polaroid camera -- she was so cute sitting on her pillow gnawing on a bone. *Sigh* Anyway, we went fishing one day with Cassi and someone slipped on a rock and sprained an ankle.

Off to the hospital we went, with Cassi in the back seat. As soon as one of the doors opened and we got out of the car, she slipped out of our grasp and headed down the street fast as a shot. We were close to the freeway, and all we saw was her little white but hauling ass down the on ramp as we chased after her and called her name, hoping she'd have a second thought about exploring her new world.

She broke a hard right off the on ramp and disappeared out of sight--and now we had a choice: chase after her, or help our sprained ankle friend into the hospital. We chose to help the wounded.

Crushed and spent after the hospital disaster, we spent the next 30 days searching for her, posting flyers, etc. On the last day of searching, my parents gave up and to my surprise, I came home from school that afternoon and was greeted by a yapping black lab puppy in my backyard -- again from the local shelter. We named her Sasha.

Well, the day went on and late that evening the door bell rang. Two large officers stood staggered, the front officer holding a dingy, older looking German Shepherd with a bushy tail. Honestly, the dog looked more like a wolf than anything else. Nevertheless, you won't believe who it was: Cassi!

The officers explained that they found her in the back alley of a skating rink, where she was foraging out of garbage dumpsters in between windfalls of local skaters feeding her their leftover scraps.

The recovery period was heartbreaking, as we heard her shrieking in pain outside the next morning. We rushed to see what was the matter--it turns out that during her travels, she had ingested a plastic bag while scraping together food to keep her little body alive, and you know the saying--what goes in one end must come out the other. And so, we helped her out with excreting the alien substance, and she soon returned to the Cassi we knew and loved.

The sad part was that we never got to see her grow up. In one month's time, she had gone from a dark luxurious coat of brown and black, to a long, shaggy, dusty, salt-and-pepper look more like that of a wolf.

The fascinating part of this story is that without that incident happening, we would have only saved one dog from the shelter that month instead of two.

Hope you enjoyed my story. :-)

Follow-up: Cassi lived a happy life, following us from Redding, CA to Santa Maria, CA and eventually to Vista, CA, where she died 11 years later of natural causes.

This unfortunately is a story of the terrible and inhumane nature of some people as much as it is the rescue of defenceless animals. One day while cutting the lawn, we live in the country, down a relatively quiet roadway, my dog began barking at some animal in the under bush across the roadway. I went to investigate and found a green garbage bag rustling. I was not sure what I had come across and so first getting my dog under control (a Golden Retriever), I first secured the bag so I wouldn’t get a surprise of some frightened wild animal leaping out at me.

It would have been emotionally more settling if it had been a wild animal that had gotten itself caught in the bag that came leaping and snarling out once freed. But to my shock and dismay, it was a mother cat and four kittens. The mother cat was dead as were two of the kittens. It was obvious that this mother cat and its kittens had been remorselessly thrown from a moving vehicle into the bushes.

After securing the nearly wild with fear kittens, I buried the mother cat and her dead kittens off in the back of our property, marking the grave with a small arrangement of stones and a blessing for a better next life. The two kittens were taken to our local vet where unfortunately one of them had internal injuries that the vet could not repair and passed away, I burried the kitten along side the grave of his mother and brothers and sisters. The remaining kitten, we named Lucky, survived and we were blessed with his antics for nearly 14 years. In 2007, Lucky passed away from combination of old age and a blood clot.

Since then we have responded to two farmers who have had barn cats that had kittens in their barns by adopting a kitten and helping to find homes for the others. So far we have had two cats this way. One Blacky we still have today, yes he is a black cat!

Caution: Not a Happy Ending (and long)

When I was about 5, I had a big Malamute/Doberman cross named Spot. Spot was my best friend and followed me everywhere. I lived in a fairly small town for 1/2 the year and that's where he lived. Spot and I would go exploring all over the place every day after school and my friends would bring along their dogs too.

One day, my friends and I decided to go to nearby fenced in area (farm?) and jump from haybale to haybale (they were big and looked like bread loaves) as there wasn't anything else to do. There was a mean bull and a fast moving river on that property so we put all the animals in my friends yard. There was Spot and 2 other dogs in the yard when we left.

We played for about an hour when here comes my friends dog. We decide to take him home so start walking over to him. We hear a funny noise and here comes some guy shooting at us with a shotgun (it was salt rock). My friend got clipped and fell and cried which sent his dog into a mad fury. The dog somehow got through a hole in the fence and came to our aid. The farmer reloaded or something while yelling at us and charging. I got my friend up and we ran to the river because there was no fence over there. His dog ran behind us like our canine guardian the whole way.

We escaped and started to head back toward the roads that led back to the main town area. Then we faced a huge dilemma. I could hear my dog Spot wailing like no tomorrow. I assumed he was just mad that he was fenced in for the first time in his life (he was about 2 by then). We start running and realize my friend's dog is missing. We know he left the fenced area with us and the farmer guy was long gone probably calling our parents. We headed back toward the river and spotted something weird by the water. We got really close and saw it was the head of my friends dog.

We both freaked out thinking the dog was dead even though it was barking and whining up a storm. The dog had somehow gotten stuck in mud that was about 2 feet deep and couldn't move. We figured it was quicksand (we were 6) and started to figure out how to rescue the poor pooch. We both waded into the mud a little and about 6 inches in, it devoured our shoes. We couldn't find them at all and gave up, thinking about the dog who seemed to be sinking.

We remembered the things they use to tie the little rectangle hay bales were back over in the fenced part so I was charged to go get some (my friend was bleeding in the back a little from salt rock). I ran over there, around the mud and got the little ropes (this took about 5 minutes).

I get to my friend and his dog and my friend is now good and stuck in the mud up to his waist as well. I didn't know what to do and didn't want to leave my friend so I tossed him a handful of the little rope and tried to pull him. It wasn't working. He was stuck. We had an idea to try to have the dog pull him out instead because it was a huge dog. My friend slid around to the side of the dog and gradually freed his front paws from the muck. The dog was able to drag himself to a shallower part but my friend couldn't hold on to him.

This seemed like it took hours but was probably a 15 minute event. I tied a wad of string to the dog's collar and tossed the rest to my friend. The dog was just barking and whining and wouldn't go near the mud at all. My friend said "Hit him!" and I was confused. He kept telling me to do this and by now he was crying more than ever.

I hit the dog and he growled at me. I threw rocks and everything I could at him but he wouldn't budge. Finally my friend yells "GO HOME!!" and the dog tears off like a bat out of hell. My friend only moves a few inches but it was enough that he could work a leg out of the mud and crawl to safety.

What an adventure huh? My friend and I saved the dog, the dog and I saved the friend. What we didn't notice is my dog Spot stopped yelping and barking. We figured he went home. We get to my friends house and there's spot. Front paws stuck between the pointy parts of his picket fence, hind legs stuck about 6 inches off the ground on the bottom thing that runs along holding the pickets.

He had a heart attack or something I guess.

Kind of sad story but nothing else comes close in my mind.

The story of how I got my first Bichon Frise.

The week I left for college, apparently, our idiotic neighbors from Westchester County put rat poison out in our rural neighborhood to get rid of squirrels, which they "didn't like" (they didn't have a garden or anything and had a yard full of mature trees, so I don't know what they expected). In the process, they ended up killing almost every cat and dog in the neighborhood. This was a place out in the country, far from any town, mostly professors; everyone let their animals go off-leash when they were outside themselves, or if their kids were playing outside. Yes, everyone's animals were fixed. This was a far cry from a crowded urban or suburban neighborhood.

The poison got our two dogs: the miniature poodle/Yorkie cross I'd picked out when I was 6 (Button); and the Gordon Setter we'd rescued when I was 12 (Laddie's story is great as well as this one). My parents didn't tell me for two weeks, and I was devastated when I found out.

Button's dad was a miniature poodle in the college town a few miles away. His owners, other profs, had never fixed him and let him run (neither acceptable even then; lots more people and other dogs in town). I had hopes of possibly finding another of his offspring to adopt.

About a year later at the start of the school year, a little white dog that appeared to be a small white poodle appeared on campus. She was in bad shape. She looked like a little white buffalo, having pulled out the hair on her back and hind legs as far as she could reach. I thought she might be another offspring of Button's father.

She was scared of people, moreso as time went on. She'd follow at a distance, and sometimes people would toss her scraps, but most of the time people kicked her away. She attended a Shakespeare class every other morning at 8 a.m, charming the professor. She'd come in when he unlocked the door, and curl up under his desk while he lectured, and then be the first one out of the door when the bell rang.

I tried several times to give her meat, but she just ran until I set it down and backed off. I really wanted for her to trust me. Towards the end of October, I was getting worried about her as it got colder. She had almost no hair over half her body, and she was getting pretty thin.

On Halloween, a group of friends and I went to the local ice cream shop, where I got a pumpkin ice cream sundae that was pretty large. I couldn't finish it before everyone left, being at the back of the very long line (fabulous place, always has a line out the door), so I brought back my dish with me.

As I was walking to the door of the dorm, the little white dog appeared out of nowhere, sat up on its haunches right in front of me, and begged, waving both paws! And when she barked, it was with Button's voice. I was utterly charmed, and put the bowl down with half a scoop of ice cream left, which she wolfed down. My roommate ran inside and grabbed some cheese and a belt. I put the cheese in the dish, and she ran back forward to get it. While she ate, I made a loop of the belt and got it around her neck. Then I snuck her into my dorm room.

For the next four days, my roommate and I brought her food from the cafeteria. I talked with my mom and explained her resemblance to Button. On that fourth day, she came to see the dog. As she reached down to pet her in the dim light, the dog snapped at her and did enought damage she needed stiches!

Despite that, she took the dog home, saying that her snapping was understandable, and that she could tell the dog was immediately sorry for having bit her. The dog slept, my mom said, for two days straight. But that's not the end of it.

That first week, two things happened.

First, my mom was on the phone with my dad, telling him what was for supper. Something she said caused the dog to go nuts with happiness. My dad, hearing the dog barking on the other end, asked what had caused it. So Mom went over everything she'd said, and the dog went crazy at the word "Muffin". So apparently her name was Muffin! We'd been calling her Zipper because she was fast, and it was kind of like Button.

The next thing was that Mom took Muffin to the vet. He took one look, and said she was a Bichon Frise, not a poodle. She'd had a bad spay and some idiot had docked her tail. At the time, Bichons were very rare in the U.S., so he contacted the breed rescue club and told them one with the call name Muffin had been found in rural Indiana.

The breed rescue club said that a famous show dog with the name Muffin had been missing for two years, having been stolen off her flight at a layover in the Midwest. She was retiring anyway and had only gone to the show to be on display. Later one of the campus employees, friends of the family, said they'd seen her being dumped on campus right at the start of the school year. Apparently someone had stolen her, thought to breed her, found she'd already been spayed, and then dumped her, docking her tail somewhere along the way.

Muffy was a terrific dog: smart, strong, sweet, with beautiful hair once it grew back. She had an allergy to a shampoo additive used in cheap shampoos. And very, very loyal and grateful for having been rescued.

But that's not the end of it yet!

Two years later, I brought my boyfriend, whom I was thinking of marrying, home to meet my parents. When Muffin came running to meet me, he was flabbergasted. "Is that that stray dog that was running around campus a couple of years ago?" he asked. "I thought she died Halloween Night because it got so cold that night and she was practically hairless and starving!"

Turns out he'd been so worried about her that he'd gone out looking for her and stayed out until about 2 a.m., with a can of dog food in his pocket, and a couple of scarves to use as bedding and leashes.

Muffin lived another 10 years, to be over 20 years old, old enough to meet and live with one of her great-great-great granddaughters, who was the foundation of the show kennel we had for awhile. The last of her line my family owned died two years ago.

And I married her would-be rescuer.

My pup, Milo, was found tied to a tree. He had been there for about three days, the people went on vacation during the summer in florida. He had no food or water. The neighbors heard him barking and finally brought him some water and food. My aunt heard from the neighbors and was going to take him to the pound but we said we would take him.

I have three such rescue stories, but I don't think that they are extraordinary ones. Anyway, here are they;

1. Rescued a Common Crait: Common Craits are in plenty in our locality and one can easily see one at least once a week in summer. One day, when I was walking down the road from one division to another within our college premises, I heard loud hissing and something moving violently among the dried leaves inside the fenced gardens on the left side of the road. I also saw a few people watching something curiously. I walked near and saw that a big Common Crait, nearly 7 feet long, somehow entangled itself with the iron gate of the garden and its tail badly crushed between two thick iron strips with a narrow gap of about 4 mm. between them.

What I felt most sorry about that the people were enjoying the site with curiosity and nobody dared to help the poor creature. Somebody even suggested to kill the snake as he opined that wounded snakes are very-very dangerous.

I am naturally attracted towards snakes and generally not scared of them. But at that time, I felt somewhat scared because I never saw such a big and wild venomous snake, violently trying for freedom.

God knows what gave me a sudden burst of courage. I simply walked up to the gate, grabbed the snake by its head, and yelled for someone to bring a crowbar. Some kind hearted person responded, brought a crowbar and came near. He was not that afraid at that time because I was holding the snakes head. I told him to use to crowbar to widen the gap between the iron strips where the snake was stuck. He tried it and at the slightest effort, as soon as the gap widened, the snake released itself and started to untangle itself from the gate. All this time, people around were shouting like mads and advising me to not to risk my life. But their advises simply made me more adamant and determined.

Now my heart started pounding heavily. The first thought that came to me was that if I did slightest mistake in releasing the snake, it will surely bite me. But my soul told me that it won't because every animal is intelligent enough to understand that it is being rescued.

Finally, I listened to my soul and simply threw its head away from me. You won't believe me, but it did nothing and simply ran away in distant bushes with amazing speed. All this I did without having any training to handle snakes and I had never even touched a non-venomous snake previously.

But now I understand that God gave me the courage to handle the situation and He enabled me to save the life of His creature.

That's it.

2. The second incident also involves a common crait, but this time a smaller one about 2.5 feet long and it happened much later than the first one. I was coming back to my home on a bicycle from Post Office and passing a school which was just over. Suddenly I saw some children encircling something on the road. Of sheer curiosity, I approached the scene and found that a baby crait was lying injured on the road, with its tail badly ran over by some vehicle and sticking to the road with blood. If it laid there like that the whole day, it was sure to die or be eaten by some predator or ran over by another vehicle or killed by curious folks.

With my previous experience, I did not at all seemed any difficult to me. I a soft leaf and two sticks, sat near the snake and with the help of the leaf and the stick, released its crushed tail from the road. But it still did not move. It was evident that it was terribly scared, badly injured and nervous. I could easily see its heart beat from over its skin. So, I lifted it with the help of the sticks, walked up to shady place beside a shallow stream and laid it by a bush near water in a way that its mouth could touch the water. All this time, it did not even try to escape. Now, when it gathered some courage and understood that I was not going to harm it, it started licking water with its forked tongue. A few moments later, it slowly moved away.

I don't know if it finally lived or not, but I felt happy that at least I tried my best to save it. Once I thought to take it to the veterinary hospital, but it was almost 40 kms. away from the spot and vets there hardly care for such unimportant animals. Further, I was not sure if it would receive any treatment in time there or it would survive that distance. Moreover, there was nobody else to help me out.

Anyway, I just tried my part.

3. The third incident involves a spotted owl. In one afternoon, after a heavy storm, I saw an owl was perching on a drumstick tree in our yard. Naturally curious, as I was, I approached near it with the intention to see it closely. But to my surprise it did not even move. There were two more things abnormal about that owl. First, that there was still plenty of daylight and owls are never seen until dark. Second, one of its wings was let loose from its shoulder. It was not folded properly.

It appeared to me that it might be wounded. So, with a basket in my hand, I walked very close to it. Scared, it tried to fly away but dropped down on the ground. Now I had my chance and I leaped on it with the basket and covered it with the basket. Then I caught hold of it. On careful examination, I found that its wing was really badly injured, perhaps by some other bird. I applied a mixture of turmeric, onion and lime on it and bandaged it so that it could not move its wing.

The owl was so scared it hardly let me to touch it. It did it best to scratch and bite me with its sharp talons and beaks and even succeeded. But I was equally adamant. I put it in a cage, went to market, brought some fresh fish, made thin fillets of fish flesh and tried to feed the owl. But it did not even touch the food. I waited for hours but it did not. So, frustrated and annoyed, I grabbed its beak and pushed open it and pushed in the fish-fillets in its mouth. This time, it ate them. I succeeded in feeding him almost 10 grams of fish and then I stopped and left the rest in its cage. The next morning, I found that it had eaten the whole stuff and s**t in the cage.

This went on for nearly a week. Then, one fine evening when it was dark. I undid its bandage and found that it could flap its wounded wing again. I brought the cage outside and opened its door. First few moments, it felt a bit reluctant and confused to come out of the cage. Then, when it found the door, it came out, hopped on the cage's roof, waited for few seconds and flew away silently.

This gave me immense satisfaction.

So, those were my experiences with rescuing an animal.

May God give the courage to deal with such situations again and may God help those poor creatures.

Thank you.

One crisp fall day, a small group of New Zealand children were heading home from a local store with newly-bought candy in their pockets. They were being followed by their neighbour's jack russel terrier, George, a small, but plucky 9 year old dog.
Out of nowhere, two massive pitbulls rushed at the children. One of the kids, only four years old, would have stood no chance against these vicious dogs, trained to be aggressive, and rumoured to have been fed methamphetamines, stimulant drugs like speed.
The children, exposed on a sidewalk, could only watch as snarling furies sped towards them and specifically towards the smallest of them, 4 year old Darryl.
Then George stepped up.
George, a tiny terrier, who had only been following the children for a lark, stepped in front of the them and faced down the pitbulls.
To understand the true scope of this, it would have been like a person facing down not just one, but two jacked up tigers, foaming at the mouth and hellbent on destruction.
The two pitbulls shifted their aim toward George and so the plucky little terrier managed to buy the children some time.
The children later stated that George never backed down, until adults intervened and rescued them. Unfortunately, and inevitabilty, George had such horrific wounds from the encounter that his owner was forced to put him down.
Posthumously, George was awarded Britain's highest medal for animal bravery. But his true legacy is the lives of the children he saved with no thought to his own.

I hope phu is tuning in. I do a lot of animal rescues: snakes, lizards, opossums, birds, turtles, all sorts of critters. People bring them to me, or I get a phone call. My favorites are the gopher snake calls. Free gift! I like to think of it that I'm rescuing the animal from the people - they are typically terrified or cold or hungry...a variety of things.

HOWEVER, my most harrowing animal rescue without question was an ancient chihuahua. I noticed turmoil in front of the house. Kids on bikes and scooters, people on cell phones, etc. They were chasing the tiny dog down the street, trying to catch it to "save" it. Someone finally cornered it in an ivy bed about a block away and it was more than ready to rip off someone's arm should they try to touch it. Baring fangs, snarling, whole bit. I mean large men were just standing there, doing zip about this dog. Understandably.

I employed what I call my "drop and wrap" technique. I threw a beach towel over the dog, swiftly bundled him up with his head covered and held him until he stopped shaking. I VERY slowly opened the towel from around his face, ready to re-wrap if necessary. It was not. What appeared was a tiny old face with watery eyes. He looked up at me and whimpered.

I took him home and phoned my favorite Animal Control Officer. We work together a lot. He knows I do "exotics" and that I help with placements and adoptions. He was surprised to arrive and find a chihuahua instead of a possum or whatever. Together, we examined the little thing. His nails were so long, they had curled under his feet and were cutting into his paw pads. My buddy said, "This is the companion of an elderly person who can no longer care for him, and he got out." The dog had no collar or tags. Off they went to, I am sure, a better place with the dog in a new home. That's our standing deal. No euthanasia. Placement and adoption.

The end.

(Below is a reasonable facsimile.)

actually ,this is the natual for human to ibe easily moved by this subtle thing ,cus in our human being's mind we see the differences betwee animal and human ,we human even dispate the animal s ,also sometimes we can't accept the distance and intimacy with them ,only this gap has in our mind we would have such a huge shock we we see something animal have done special which is out of our expecation ,