Ronaldo (Adopted!)

* * * UPDATE!! * * *

March 2014

Ronaldo was adopted by Caroline and her two loving children in the Chicagoland area! We are so thrilled for this lucky, sweet, shy boy who has suffered so much in his short life. He deserves the very best, and his adoring family will make sure he gets just that.

In mid-March, Dawn hosted a few of us at her house and we had the pleasure of meeting sweet Ronaldo and spending an evening with him. 
Marna - our dear friend and ardent ISDF supporter - was there. Marna owns Grace Wears Fur pet photography, and she had brought her camera. 
Lucky Ronaldo posed for her...

and for my amateur shots as well.

The following weekend, Caroline and her family came to meet Ronaldo. 

It was love at first sight. Ronaldo was finally home. Our hearts soared for this sweet boy.

Andrea had stopped by that afternoon with Ronaldo's old pal, Daisy Malaysi. The two enjoyed a happy, frolicsome reunion in Dawn and Chuck's yard.

Ronaldo's family has updated us that he continues to do great at home.

He just started an obedience class and Mom reports that he is as clever as we all knew he was, and is excelling already. And - not to be outdone by "sister" Daisy, who was MDDB's calendar pinup girl for the month of April, complete with bunny ears - Ronaldo sported some Easter bling of his own over the recent holidays.

We are so thrilled for this amazing survivor. His life has made a 180-degree turn and he is finally home forever. We could not be happier.

Thank you to all who made this possible, from Wani Muthiah and Malaysian Dogs Deserve Better for pulling him out from that sad tree shelter and saving his life; to kind supporters who nursed him back to health in Malaysia and helped fund his medical care and flight here to the USA; to his amazing adoptive family, who shower him with all the love and affection he deserves after his lifelong ordeal. 

Thank you for all everyone has done for sweet Ronaldo!

February 2014

Ronaldo and Daisy left the loving arms of their Malyasian caretakers after a tearful but celebratory going-away party, complete with cake and cookies.

They were brought to the airport by MDDB staff and traveled accompanied by kind ISDF supporter Sherine Yam.

The two dogs arrived here with Sherine at Chicago's O'Hare Airport on Monday, February 10, after a long journey from Kuala Lampur, made longer by an unexpected full-day layover at Tokyo's Narita Airport due to a snow storm in Japan. 

Actually, since they received top-notch care from animal specialists there for a full day - food, fresh water, walks, attention, and nice bedding - they probably enjoyed stretching their legs in the middle of their tiresome journey from southeast Asia to here in the United States!

Both dogs are in foster care with Dawn and Chuck here in the Chicagoland area. They arrived feeling quite shy and nervous…

…but shortly after their arrival, they both had warm baths and large meals, which they enjoyed immensely. They settled in well, and have been enjoying the luxurious accommodations of Chez Trimmel while having a fun time romping in the company of each other and Dawn's pet and foster dogs ever since!

Ronaldo, in particular, seems born to be a babysitter. Dawn reported that he was in his element when she fostered some puppies from India for a few days. He loved to be 'working' - corralling them and keeping them all in line, as a loving, but firm, caretaker of the young ones.

Ronaldo is an affectionate but very shy young man who needs a little time to warm up to strangers - but once they have won his trust, he laps up human affection and gives as good as he gets. 

Thank you to all who made this possible, from Wani Muthiah and Malaysian Dogs Deserve Better for saving, vetting, and fostering Ronaldo and Daisy...

…to kind-hearted sponsors who generously donated to help cover their costs - especially Diane Levinson, Gina Stern, and Naomi Ben-Attar; and finally, to Daisy and Ronaldo's awesome, eager, kind-hearted flight volunteer, Sherine Yam!

* * * * * 

My name is Ronaldo.

Six months ago, my entire life turned upside-down. 

Little did I know - this was actually a good thing. 
In fact, it was probably the best thing that had ever happened to me. It just didn't feel much like it at all, at the time…

But let me backtrack a bit, and start at the beginning.

Three years ago, my mother gave birth to me on the streets of Seri Kembangan, a city in Malaysia. Like many other places in the world, my birthplace has two sides to it: a glittering, gorgeous facade that caters mostly to tourists; and an edgy, urban flip side where we street dogs roam in great numbers, and where so many humans eke out a living under difficult circumstances.

My chance of living a normal life were low indeed - so many of us street dogs perish at a tender age.

Either we are mowed down by traffic, before we are old enough to properly learn how to navigate around it - or our mothers are claimed by cars, which leaves us as defenseless orphans. Or disease passes through our region, and we die slowly, suffering, in great numbers, since so few of us are vaccinated. Or we are ravaged by competing street dog packs who want to stake their claim on a territory we happen to be living in, so we die from wounds inflicted upon us, and subsequent untreated infection. Or we scrounge for food, but resources are too scarce in our area - or perhaps, not scarce, but there are too many other dogs who are faster and more proficient at scavenging then we are. Or - tragically - we manage to survive all of these hardships, yet are snared by Malaysian dog catchers, who are paid a bounty for each of us they manage to drag back to city pounds, where we die in massive numbers from disease and starvation (they don't feed us there much, if at all. It's the government's method of slow, but cheap, euthanasia).

I got lucky. I survived - and not just because of my quick wits (though I'm sure they helped), but because of the kindness of a stranger.

One day, when I was very young, a man happened upon me and my siblings. He knew my brothers and sisters were too much for my poor mom to take care of, and he knew our chances - all of us, Mom included - were grim, out on the streets.

The problem was, the man himself was living in dire straits. He was in his late 60s, destitute, transient, and jobbing daily for any money he could get. And he had already adopted another dog from off the streets long before me, a sweet big boy who came to be my big brother in the months and years that followed.
But although my adoptive human had troubles of his own, he looked into my eyes and felt unable to leave me behind. So he approached me with kind words and gentle hands. And my mother - sweet saint that she was - stepped back into the shadows and let him take me away from her, not because she didn't love me…but because she did. 
And she knew that a life lived on the streets was no life for a gentle boy like me. So although I was frightened, I took my cues from my mom, and entrusted my fate into the hands of this kindly, older man.

He scooped me into his arms and carried me "home" - which in our case, was a series of rented rooms over the two and a half years that we lived together. When we arrived, I met my big brother who grudgingly welcomed me. Over time, he became a real brother and friend to me, and taught me the ropes of my new life.

By the time I turned two, our human dad was closing in on seventy years old, and his health was deteriorating. We had been living for a period of time in a rented room near a food marketplace with shops quite similar to this one.



This was the most stable and happy period of our lives. Dad was lonely for human companionship, but we did the best we could to provide him with love and friendship, and we all kept one another company. 

Our dad had found pretty steady work finally, doing odd jobs here and there for the food stall vendors that populated the nearby marketplace. This provided us with our room and some food, so we were all quite satisfied and happy. 

My big brother and I often tailed along behind Dad when he did his jobs, so we got to know all of the food vendors: which ones were kind, and which ones would shoo us angrily away; which ones would offer us small tidbits of yummy morsels, and which ones would threaten us by waving pots and pans in our direction.
 We also got to know the local street dogs, who were not very friendly. My big brother was quite capable of holding his own, so despite a few sparring matches with the others, he was bigger, tougher, and quite able to fend for himself. But I was a different story altogether. I had only known life with my mom, and then life with my human dad. I had never properly learned to defend myself, or how to fight. I am a quiet and gentle soul - a lover, not a fighter. I didn't stand a chance with the bigger dogs who tried to bully me every chance they got.

My dad knew this, so he worried incessantly about me when nighttime fell and we were all back in our rented room. He knew my big brother would be okay, but he fretted endlessly about what would become of me.

As it turned out - he was right to worry.

One terrible morning, I woke to the sound of my big brother whining in a high-pitched voice. I had never heard him cry like that before - he was a big, tough dude. He was nuzzling Dad's hands and face over and over again, as if willing him to move them. But Dad never moved again. 

A day or two passed, and the vendors began to worry about what had happened to the kind old man who did odd jobs for them. They came looking for our dad, as did the police, and they found us all in our rented room - my dad in his bed sleeping as still as a stone, and my big brother and I hiding in a corner, hungry and heartbroken.

The food stall vendors knew how much our dad had loved us and worried about our future welfare. The ones who had always been kind to us now became even more generous, and although it was hard on us both to adjust to life on the streets, we slowly began to adapt. But it was difficult to sleep beside the noisy street, where the sound of voices and cars bothered us at all hours. And although we got scraps from the food vendors, there was never quite enough to eat. 
Worse - the kindness we received from these marketplace men began to attract all the wrong kinds of attention from the local street dog gangs towards me and my big brother. Their jealousy and their own hunger began to create confrontations that worsened by the day.

My big brother was tough, and was able to rely upon lessons he had learned from years living on the streets before our dad had rescued him. But he was also getting on in years, and unable to defend both of us from the advances of the street dogs. Just keeping himself alive and protected was taking up all of his energy - there was no way he could protect me forever, too.

One awful day, our worst fears were realized. 
While innocently scavenging for some food scraps one hungry morning, I was set upon by a pack of street dogs that literally tore me to bits. My big brother was no match for their numbers and strength, much as it broke his heart to see me suffer.

I was shaken about like a rag doll, and my flesh was literally torn off of my body around my throat and neck, and from both of my front legs. With puncture wounds perilously close to my jugular, and large chunks of flesh hanging off my neck, limbs, and right shoulder, I was unable to even move.

Eventually, my nearly-lifeless form lost all attraction for the pack of dogs, and slowly, at long last, they left me to die. 
Breathing was difficult, through my rapidly-swelling throat. 



My front limbs felt useless because of the pain blazing through them and the way they were swelling like balloons. 



I was already weak from a blood parasite infection and weeks of starvation on the streets - and now I had suffered shock, and severe blood loss, all in the space of a few terrible minutes.

I gave up all hope, closed my eyes, and waited to die.

But then something made me open my eyes. I heard a sound I had only heard once before in my life - a heartbroken, high-pitched whine. It was my big brother, whimpering from where he had watched the attack unfold from across the street. Approaching me would only attract my attackers again, so he was helpless to help me.

But knowing that he loved me, and that he cared, gave me the impetus to try to save my own life.

That was the last time I would ever see my big brother. 
I have heard that he lives there still, seeking whatever food he can get from the food vendors, and sleeping on the streets, fending for himself amongst the dog packs, and thinking of his dad and of me often. 
I pray he will stay strong and able-bodied for as long as he can, and that maybe one day, someone will find him on the street and think he is beautiful and take him home to call him their very own. I dream about this most nights…
I will never forget either one of them. 
I miss them so much.

To this day, I don't know how I managed it - and neither does anyone else. 
But somehow, in the state I was in, I managed to drag myself through the busy streets to a small park with a tree that I knew about. The tree had a bit of a hollow in its base, and I had used it once or twice when I desperately needed rest and craved protection from the elements and marauding dog packs.

It was to here that I dragged myself. 
I think I must have blacked out several times along the way, and still don't know quite how I got there, but somehow - I did it.

Although I had some protection inside my tree, I had lost so much blood…and so much hope. And I was in agony. Slowly, the light began to go out of eyes…and from somewhere far away, I imagined I felt the gentle hand of my beloved dad stroking my head and telling me I was a good boy.

That was the state I was in when a volunteer with Malaysian Dogs Deserve Better found me. 
She snapped this photo of me as she contacted the group to tell them I needed urgent help.

Immediately, thanks to MDDB, I was removed to a local veterinary hospital, where I received top-notch emergency care to address my wounds, dehydration, malnutrition, shock, blood loss, and blood parasites.

I grew a little bit stronger each day, and after seven weeks of treatment at the clinic, I was transferred to MDDB's halfway home where I enjoyed further medical care, plus the kindness of caretakers, square meals, and a crate and bed to call my own.
For five long months I lived there, meeting a string of prospective adopters that came to visit all of us, and hoping that one would decide I was the missing piece in the puzzle of their lives. But none did - I was too "plain", too "common", too "timid."

A month ago, I moved to MDDB's brand new beautiful resource and rehabilitation center…

...where I met my sweet foster sister, Daisy (who is also looking for a home - please see her story here), and together, we have continued our quest to find a home. 
But here in Malaysia, where our breed - the Telomian - is a common sight - we are not considered beautiful or interesting. We may wait forever to find a home in our resident nation. So when MDDB had the opportunity to partner with the International Street Dog Foundation once more, to find homes for both myself and Daisy - they jumped at the chance.

I will fly to America soon. I hope it is the promised land they have all been telling me about - I am nervous, but so excited!

I know that I may seem timid to some, and plain to some - but underneath my scarred exterior, beats a heart of gold - filled with so much love that I have to share with my new family.

I am Telomian, heir to a proud race, and majestic in my own right. But here in Malaysia, I am looked upon as common, and even homely. 
For six months, I have met countless prospective adopters who all say pretty much the same thing: Oh, what a nice dog. But not very handsome. Can we see the others?

I know that MDDB has high hopes of finding me a family of my very own, but the clock never stops ticking and time just keeps rolling on. I have even been featured in the newspaper - see my story here. 

I admit that when I first came to live with a human, I was terrified. I had only lived in the company of dogs up until that point, and although I was young and eager to learn, I was unsocialized to this strange species of two-legged beast that mostly posed a threat to me in my daily existence. But my newfound benefactor and human dad was a kind and quiet man, and he soon won me over with his gentle ways. 

It was a transition…and to this day, though I'm not at all skittish around people, I still take my time getting to know humans. Better safe than sorry - as I have met plenty that might kick me as well as caress me. 

So I am quiet, like my human dad before me, who also knew both kindness and cruelty at the hands of his fellow man - and I measure my responses, and am quite tentative in doling out trust and affection. 
However, once you have won my trust...you will have my love FOREVER. Just like my human dad did. 
He taught me well, and I hope and dream that one day I will find human parents again - who also possess gentle hands and kind voices - and who will love me for all time, like my human dad once did.

I know it's so much to hope for, but I can't help myself. I've come so far in this journey halfway across the world, searching for a forever home and family to call my own.

Might you be the ones I have been dreaming of?

 Please share my story and help MDDB and ISDF partner to bring me to a real home, at long last. 

Thank you so very much!!

Love, Ronaldo
For more information about adopting Ronaldo, or any of our available dogs, please contact Dawn Trimmel at (414) 426-4148. Thank you!

* * * * *

I am a Malaysian Street Dog.

Our lives are filled with hardship. 
The luckiest among us are ignored and allowed to eke out an existence, hunting for food, shelter, and safety. 
The rest of us suffer at the hands of man - either because we are completely ignored and disregarded (including those of us who have been injured and are suffering in plain sight of the public), or because we are actively persecuted and abused. Some of us suffer torture at the hands of the meat trade. Many of us end up in so-called "pounds" which are really just death camps for dogs. 

We are extremely lucky to have MDDB out there, on our sides, each and every day.

About MDDB

Malaysian Dogs Deserve Better (MDDB) is a canine welfare and advocacy project initiated to give Malaysian street dogs a second chance in life. 

Street dogs in Malaysia lead precarious lives due to certain prejudices and lack of empathy from members of the general public. As far as MDDB is concerned, the biggest abusers of street dogs are the municipal council and City Hall dog catching units that hunt down canines and lock them up in crowded and unhygienic enclosures pending euthanasia. Most of the time, the unfortunate dogs do not even get sufficient food or water while they await death. 

MDDB works hard to make local authorities understand that the best and most humane method of stray management is not culling dogs, but employing the Trap-Neuter-Release-Manage (TNRM) method, whereby dogs are neutered and released for the local community to manage. This is a very difficult task indeed, as dog catching in Malaysia has been commercialized with bounty being paid for the head of every dog caught. MDDB also rescues and treats injured dogs, as well as stray mothers and their puppies - and they hold adoption drives to find permanent, loving homes for many dogs as well.

For a wonderful article with many accompanying photos of just some of the ways that MDDB is making the world a better place, please see this lovely article here. 

International Street Dog Foundation is honored to partner with MDDB to have helped Dumbo and Bobby in the past, and now to help sweet Ronaldo and dear Daisy. Hats off, and many thanks, for their tireless dedication to the street dogs of Malaysia!

Daisy (Adopted!)

* * * UPDATE!! * * *

February 2014

Daisy and Ronaldo left the loving arms of their Malyasian caretakers after a tearful but celebratory going-away party, complete with cake and cookies.

They were brought to the airport by MDDB staff and traveled accompanied by kind ISDF supporter Sherine Yam.

The two dogs arrived here with Sherine at Chicago's O'Hare Airport on Monday, February 10, after a long journey from Kuala Lampur, made longer by an unexpected full-day layover at Tokyo's Narita Airport due to a snow storm in Japan. 

Actually, since they received top-notch care from animal specialists there for a full day - food, fresh water, walks, attention, and nice bedding - they probably enjoyed stretching their legs in the middle of their tiresome journey from southeast Asia to here in the United States!

Both dogs are in foster care with Dawn and Chuck here in the Chicagoland area. They arrived feeling quite shy and nervous...

…but shortly after their arrival, they both had warm baths and large meals, which they enjoyed immensely. They settled in well, and have been enjoying the luxurious accommodations of Chez Trimmel while having a fun time romping in the company of each other and Dawn's pet and foster dogs ever since!

Daisy is an absolute sweetheart who craves human affection and gives as good as she gets. She will nuzzle her head in any lap that sits near her, and she will even hug the legs of humans standing near her!

Thank you to all who made this possible, from Wani Muthiah and Malaysian Dogs Deserve Better for saving, vetting, and fostering Daisy and Ronaldo...

…to kind-hearted sponsors who generously donated to help cover her costs - especially Diane Levinson, Gina Stern, and Naomi Ben-Attar; and finally, to Daisy and Ronaldo's awesome, eager, kind-hearted flight volunteer, Sherine Yam!

* * * * * 

My name is Daisy.

I lived three hard years on the streets, though the past year of my life has been a dream come true. This is especially true of the past six months, during which I have lived at the brand-new resource and rehabilitation center for the animal welfare group Malaysian Dogs Deserve Better (MDDB) in Klang, about 20 miles outside of Malaysia's capital city of Kuala Lampur. 

My friend Ronaldo - who will also be my travel companion here to the United States, and who is also looking for a home - has been here for sometime, too. Ronaldo's dramatic before and after photos can be seen below, and you can find his story on this blog post here.

When we arrive in the USA in February 2014, we will both be fostered together by the International Street Dog Foundation, the American organization which will find us forever homes in our new nation.

For now, here at the Klang resource and rehabilitation center, we have caretakers, our own well-padded crates, and regular meals and exercise. The Bad Men are just a distant nightmare to me now, and life is secure, if somewhat lacking in family life.

But the humans around me have been whispering that life is about to get even better…and discussing travel plans for me. International travel plans. I don't know what any of this means, but I'm excited to find out what lies ahead!

I come from a majestic dynasty of dogs. My ancestors were the Telomians, a beautiful breed native to our homeland of Malysia. But over the years, our royal heritage has fallen from grace because of rampant overpopulation. Like so many others, I and my family are now considered common, often even unwanted, in my home country. 

Sterilization of us street dogs is uncommon, so we bring new generations into the world to suffer, often to perish - as my mom and two of my own children did. Though sometimes, for a lucky handful of us - we win the fight to survive. And for an even tinier few of us, we get the opportunity to go on to an actual home and a full life with a real family.

But I'm racing ahead of myself. Let me take you back to where my story began, in a busy, dingy, polluted, multi-story parking garage in Klang. I called that place home for three long years. It was as good a place as any to make a shelter for myself and my children. 

The perks were a bit of protection from tropical storms, other inclement weather, and cruel humans. Additionally, a caretaker at a nearby temple came by whenever he could to provide us with a bit of food - not often, to be sure, but any little bit helped. I will never forget his kindness. He saw my mom, me, and later my own babies through some really lean times. If it wasn't for him, I might not be here still to tell my story, and I am thankful to him always.

This parking garage was actually a place my mom had found, and the place where I, too, was born. Of my entire litter, only I survived - the dangers of disease and having to constantly dodge cars exacted a fatal price from all of my brothers and sisters. As my mom's one and only surviving baby, we never strayed far from one another - we were all we each had in the world. That's why losing my mom was all the more traumatic for me. 

I was still quite young on the day the Bad Men came - a teenager of a dog, all gangly legs and big ears. Mom had warned me about the Bad Men from the day I was first born, and we had even seen them on several heart-pounding occasions, but we'd always been able to hide successfully from them before. They wore official city dog-catching uniforms, but we were not fooled - they were actually just jobbing men paid bounties to capture as many of us as possible. Their methods were cruel and almost sadistic at times. And our eventual fate - to be dumped at state pounds where we were left to starve and die or perish from untreated diseases - was horrifying to contemplate.

On that terrible day when I last saw my mother, they ferreted out every last corner of the car park. Though we were experts at hiding from them, they cornered and captured us both, hooking us by the throats on long poles with metal slip knots which tightened like nooses around our necks. As we fought, kicking and snapping, we were dragged through the parking garage to their waiting truck.

By the time, we arrived, half-choked from the nooses, we had both pretty much given up the fight. The struggle to breathe consumed all of our energy. But just before they lifted the poles to toss us into the trucks by our necks, Mom caught my eye with a desperate look. In that instant, I knew what she was telling me to do. She was thrown into the truck first, and as I went in behind her and the noose was released, I took one last look at her beloved face, and - as she looked on, exhausted but approving, I sprang from the bed of the truck as the door was closing on all of us and - too fast to be caught - I managed to catch a second wind (boy, did my throat and neck still hurt, though) and take off at a mad dash: through the car park, out the garage door, into the street, and as far away as I could go, as fast as possible. 
The Bad Men came behind me, but not for very long, I think…but I didn't stop to find out. I just ran and ran, until finally I lost all of my breath and energy. I sank down into an alley, exhausted and spent. For the first time, I realized I would never see my mom again, and my heart broke.

I don't know how long I lay there for, and when I woke up, I was disoriented and scared. Memories came rushing back to me, and I began to cling to hope. Was it possible that she had followed my lead and jumped out behind me? I had to find out. 

Though it took me ages to find my way back, I returned to the parking garage I had always called home. I looked for her in every hidden corner and under every car. I whined plaintively for her, calling, Mom, Mom, where are you? but she never answered my calls.

Not long after, my friend from the temple came to see me. He stroked my head and spoke soothing words to me. I guess he knew she was gone forever - she had been a friend to him, too. He eased my heart a little, but nothing ever fully took away the terrible pain that has lived inside me since the day my mother was taken away from me forever.

Another year passed. Other dogs came and went, but I stayed. One day, I became a mother myself, to five beautiful little babies. I loved them to bits, but was sorrowful that my own mom wasn't there to meet them. But they did much to help ease my grief - taking care of them took up all of my energy, and every time I licked their tiny faces and bodies and snuzzled them close to me, I felt my heart heal just a little bit more.

Remembering the fate of my siblings, I fiercely dedicated myself to protecting my children. It was easy enough when they were teeny tiny, because they couldn't move very far without my help. I chose the safest places to shelter them, and moved them each time I sensed any kind of danger. But I lived in constant terror of the Bad Men during this very vulnerable time.

One day, my fears were realized - I woke from a nap, and sensed something was wrong. Sure enough, they had come back. And unbelievably, while trying to protect my little family, I was caught again. But rather than panicking, I stayed calm, and when the moment of being thrown into the truck arrived, I somehow managed to perform my second miraculous escape, and shortly thereafter, my second return back to my home and my babies - who stayed safe and quiet while they awaited my return (I had taught them well, like my mother before me). 

The car park staff, who by now knew me quite well, reported the whole story with admiration and amazement to my temple caretaker friend upon his next visit. He could hardly believe his ears, but he knew I would not get so lucky a third time. Having heard of MDDB, he knew they were my only hope. 
He contacted them and reached their kind, compassionate project manager, Melinda Joy Gomez. He told her about our family saga. She agreed to send out a team to capture and sterilize me and my babies as soon as they were old enough. MDDB would then work to find homes for my children so they could live out their lives in safety, and would return me to the car park, since it was the life I had always lived and they assumed I would be best off returning to it - albeit now never again having to find myself in the perilous position of having to caretake for both myself and a bunch of helpless puppies while the Bad Men were afoot.

Decisions were being made about me and my family behind the scenes, but we were naive about all of it. We were just continuing our struggle for survival. 

My kids continued to grow. Keeping all of them safe was becoming a massive challenge that grew by the day. They were young, innocent, and wanting to explore the big wide world. I admonished them, cautioned them, and even nipped them into submission, but as they grew in size and curiosity, my task grew insurmountable. One terrible day, as I was moving my family to a safe area of the parking garage, one of my children was killed - right in front of all of us. It was like losing my mom all over again…and when I lost a second baby in much the same way shortly afterwards, I felt as if I could not survive the crushing heartbreak and loss.

But I had three more little ones to care for, and I could not let them down. I pulled myself together somehow for my three little sons - Odie, Scrappy Doo, and Sir Mutley - and all three of them survived. Not without their share of injuries, however: Sir Mutley's face is permanently disfigured on one side as a result of being run over by a car. Odie did pretty well for himself (he takes after me the most) but dear Scrappy Doo lost a front leg after it was run over by a car. His pain after the injury was terrible to witness at the time, and broke a mother's heart, but he carried on the best he could, dragging his crushed leg around with him. My little Scrappy Doo...I am sorry to think of how much he suffered, but I will always be so grateful that he survived.

MDDB came to collect me and my family one day in 2012. My children were teenagers themselves now - yes, gangly like me! - and long since weaned, but we remained a family unit. 

I didn't try to run when I was captured this time, because these people were completely different than the Bad Men. They had kind eyes. They offered us tidbits and spoke softly and gently to us as they crouched down to our level and held out gentle hands. They scratched our itchy spots and stroked our heads. When they looped soft leads around our necks, we willingly went where they led us because we knew they meant us no harm. 

Our temple caretaker and guardian angel was a very happy man that day. He knew we finally had a real future ahead of us all. But his biggest, happiest surprise was yet to come…

We were taken to MDDB's veterinary clinic and boarded for a few days while our health was stabilized and assessed. To have warm, well-padded crates - and fresh, clean bowls of water - and dishes of food given to us on a regular basis - was like a dream come true. Yes, we were a bit frightened at being confined for the first time in our lives, but we sensed we were safe here, and everyone was so kind. We waited to see what would happen next.

We had our blood drawn and tested, were vaccinated, and received treatment for common parasites. We also eagerly received affection from the veterinary staff. Kind humans? This was a relatively uncommon phenomenon in our lives, so we appreciated every moment. 

My sons were all neutered, and Scrappy Doo's crushed leg was removed. When he returned from surgery without that front leg, I worried myself into quite a state, but from the moment he awoke and began happily hopping about, I realized how much better off he was without it. Sepsis, if it became infected, could have killed him, and it was a useless dead weight to him anyway by that point - completely beyond help or repair. Who knew a three-legged puppy could be just as fast - if not faster - than his two siblings? Scrappy Doo made me proud as a pup, and even prouder as a young man. He was a testimony to the adversities we all can overcome, if given half a chance.

I was taken for surgery last. I was spayed, and although I knew I would never have more babies, this thought filled me with nothing but relief. I knew I was destined to live out the rest of my life in the car park, in the company of dogs who would constantly come, go, and leave me with a parade of puppies to mourn over in future. I could not bear the thought of losing anymore to cars, or consigning future generations to the suffering my mom endured at the hands of the Bad Men and in the pound where she surely died. Both of my ears were notched while I lay anesthetized, so that MDDB and others could identify me as vaccinated and spayed with just a glance.

The days passed quickly after my surgery, and very soon, I was completely healed. The time had come for me to return to the parking garage. MDDB's project manager came to bid me farewell.
Just before I was taken to the truck that would drive me back to my old home, I decided to thank her for all she had done for me. I stood up on my back legs and wrapped my front paws around her waist, trying to imitate that thing called 'hugging' that humans do to one another to express love and gratitude. Once I had hold of her, I just couldn't let go. I wanted to make sure she knew how grateful I was to her.

I finally dropped back to the ground, but when I looked up at her face, expecting to see a happy human expression, I instead saw tears. I licked them away, and received her kind pats in return. And then the truck started, and began to drive away - without me. I didn't know it, but my fate had just changed. I was not going back to that parking garage ever again. My babies and I were safe for life. Later, when my temple caretaker heard the news, he rejoiced. His every prayer had been answered for our whole family. I hope he knows how thankful we are to him for the part he played in saving us.

A short while after our sterilization, my whole family was moved to MDDB's halfway home where we enjoyed the attention of a kind caretaker in a more home-like setting. This is the gorgeous facility I have called home for nearly half a year.

As the weeks passed, MDDB found homes for all three of my sons. Each goodbye was bittersweet - I rejoiced to know they were now safe for life, but such knowledge came at a price. I would never see my sons again. I miss them with all my heart though I am so happy for them. Here I am with Scrappy Doo, shortly before he found his forever home. 

Oh - and did I mention exactly who adopted Scrappy Doo? It was MDDB's project manager, Melinda, the lady I hugged on that fateful day. He has grown up to be a wonderful young man. At Melinda's house, he met his match - another front-legged tripod, a feisty Jack Russell Terrier mix - and the two have been inseparable ever since.

My sweet little survivor.

 My sons have made me so proud and brought me so much joy. I could not be happier - life in our car park home would have been so difficult and sad and short for them. We are the luckiest little family alive.

 But meanwhile, I continued to languish in unadopted limbo. 
I was such a social butterfly that I got out and about often, as MDDB hoped that someone somewhere would see me and know they couldn't live without me.
Here I am with the lovely Derene Lee, mother of the famous Mr. Gwing, and one of my foster moms at the resource and rehabilitation center where I've been living. She is both the general manager of the center and a spokesman for MDDB. We were at a beauty pageant in Malaysia. Well, that makes sense, because I am so very beautiful…inside and out!

Here I was meeting one of the runners-up. 

See how well-behaved I am, even with a stranger! A very pretty one, but nevertheless…

Time passed. 
My sons were all long since re-homed, but no one wanted me. I am a sweetheart. I cuddle, and even hug. I can lick away tears and comfort the aching human heart. I am a little timid after everything I've been through, but if given an iota of encouragement, I am a cuddle bug. I am a happy, grateful, sweet little girl. 

I am Telomian, heir to a proud race, and majestic in my own right. But here in Malaysia, I am looked upon as common, and even homely. My ears were tipped in preparation for my re-release onto the streets, which some people think is unattractive. For over a year, I have met countless prospective adopters who all say pretty much the same thing: Oh, what a nice dog. But not very pretty. Can we see the others?

I know that MDDB has high hopes of finding me a family of my very own, but the clock never stops ticking and time just keeps rolling on. I have even been featured in the newspaper - see my story here. 

And I was April's pin-up girl for the MDDB calendar last year - see how good I was about wearing these silly bunny ears?

Yet no one who has met me has felt that I was good enough to make me their own. I hope they are all wrong. I'd like to believe what Melinda, Wani, and others at MDDB keep telling me - that I am like Cinderella. A princess in disguise!

Will you please share my story and help ISDF partner to bring me to a real home at long last?

Thank you so very much!!

Love, Daisy

For more information about adopting Daisy, or any of our available dogs, please contact Dawn Trimmel at (414) 426-4148. Thank you!

* * * * *

I am a Malaysian Street Dog.

Our lives are filled with hardship. 
The luckiest among us are ignored and allowed to eke out an existence, hunting for food, shelter, and safety. 
The rest of us suffer at the hands of man - either because we are completely ignored and disregarded (including those of us who have been injured and are suffering in plain sight of the public), or because we are actively persecuted and abused. Some of us suffer torture at the hands of the meat trade. Many of us end up in so-called "pounds" which are really just death camps for dogs. 

We are extremely lucky to have MDDB out there, on our sides, each and every day.

About MDDB

Malaysian Dogs Deserve Better (MDDB) is a canine welfare and advocacy project initiated to give Malaysian street dogs a second chance in life. 

Street dogs in Malaysia lead precarious lives due to certain prejudices and lack of empathy from members of the general public. As far as MDDB is concerned, the biggest abusers of street dogs are the municipal council and City Hall dog catching units that hunt down canines and lock them up in crowded and unhygienic enclosures pending euthanasia. Most of the time, the unfortunate dogs do not even get sufficient food or water while they await death. 

MDDB works hard to make local authorities understand that the best and most humane method of stray management is not culling dogs, but employing the Trap-Neuter-Release-Manage (TNRM) method, whereby dogs are neutered and released for the local community to manage. This is a very difficult task indeed, as dog catching in Malaysia has been commercialized with bounty being paid for the head of every dog caught. MDDB also rescues and treats injured dogs, as well as stray mothers and their puppies - and they hold adoption drives to find permanent, loving homes for many dogs as well.

For a wonderful article with many accompanying photos of just some of the ways that MDDB is making the world a better place, please see this lovely article here. 
International Street Dog Foundation is honored to partner with MDDB to have helped Dumbo and Bobby in the past, and now to help sweet Ronaldo, and dear Daisy. Hats off, and many thanks, for their tireless dedication to the street dogs of Malaysia!