| Finally,
after a 5 hour arduous ferry trip from Bali, we had arrived on our
island paradise for what was going to be a yoga retreat and a much
needed break. Well at least that's what I thought. It seems the powers that be had other ideas. The island looked idyllic and the white sands were postcard perfect, but behind the facade there lurked a story of sadness and neglect. It was only day two when I plucked up the courage to walk over to where the occasional bark and whimpers were coming from. There they were, in separate concrete pens –shut off from each other and the rest of the world – ready to try and push their boney faces through the wire that was their tiny window to the outside. Their eyes said it all. The original owner had long left the island, leaving the local Moslem workers to care for these young golden retrievers. True to their faith –they had no contact with the dogs except to place their curried rice left-overs in the pens each day. Their pens only cleaned when one of the non-moslem workers had the time or the inclination to do it. Sadly –that was not too often. Our first request to walk the dogs was refused but after my friend Rebecca and I almost became a nuisance, they caved in. We quickly made up some make-shift leads and took them to a secluded part of the island. The male who's named was Oscar, turned out to have bad mange and runny eyes, the female, Odelia had a bad hip. Both were suffering malnutrition and muscle wastage due to lack of exercise. Our daily routine had turned into walking the dogs, cleaning out their pens, and after a kind fellow traveler came back with dog food from the main land, making sure they were fed. The question in my mind was "what was going to happen to these dogs when we left?" One look in Oscar's eyes and the answer was clear –we were going to get them out. What followed was nothing short of a saga that reminded me of many a hostage crisis I had seen on the news or in a Hollywood movie. This plot had everything, cultural diplomacy, language barriers, payoffs, bribes, negotiation (mostly between Rebecca and I and four culturally diverse males) some shake your hand, some don't. Some can touch dogs, some can't.. But we found it was acceptable for women to cry in front of some…so we did. Finally the deal was sealed over the phone to the owner, who was on his end of the mobile phone in Jakarta, or was it Singapore? We never did find out. One thing for sure, he wasn't on the island any more. Several hundred green bills exchanged hands and we left screeching with joy heading straight for the pens where we immediately released the prisoners. The dogs spent the night on my verandah staring at me through the window. They were intent on celebrating all night long. Little sleep was had by all, my brain working over time about what needed to happen next. I was about to run up my phone bill to the tune of $700, but none of that mattered –we were on a mission and lives were at stake. Next day, 5 of our party took the dogs to Lombok on the boat, where we settled them in with a local vet. Dr Gde was to become my best friend over the next month as was the amazing Karin of the Jakarta Animal Aid Network. Back home in Australia I was in constant contact with the vet and Karin. As I write this, the dogs are in Jakarta at the JAAN shelter and in the loving care of Karin. Soon they will be off to their new home in Germany.  Freedom at last –in Jakarta with their carer |
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