Lockdown Diaries: SPCA staffer in the dog-box

I’m not an animal abuser after all. The local SPCA gave me back my “neglected” old lady, Eliza – still thin, still walking her funny walk with her six toes on every paw.

The only difference is a gaping sore on her nose; we’d like to think from constantly looking out for us through her wire cage.

And that breaks my heart. For more than a month since the arrogant constable-inspector ripped her away from us “because look at the pain she is in”, I had exactly that vision.

And they won’t know my old dog freaks out during our Highveld thunderstorms.

They won’t know to wrap her in her “thunder buddy” and keep her right next to you while it claps outside.

No. All she had was a cold cement slab.

And what must she think? I abandoned her. How could she know I was trying to fight the good fight to bring her home?

I cried; unashamedly – and a lot. Some of those tears spilled over into the angry e-mails I fired off in my battle to get her home.

The national SPCA gave me the cold shoulder, but at least I got a hotline to the Big Boss of constable-inspector.

I became an expert in animal abuse laws: I now know they have to, within seven days, give you a report or release your pet. I waited 14 days, only to be told “a case was opened and it’s sub judice”.

I ranted and raved; insisted on the court date for the “case”, knowing full well he was lying through his teeth about the “sub judice”. And the “trial”.

But I thank a young vet at the local SPCA who saw through all the heartache. I simply got a phone call “to discuss her treatment” – and we were there in a flash. Our beloved Eliza couldn’t believe her eyes: we came back for her.

More tears, but this time of happiness, because the vet gave our reunion one look and told us to Go Home.

She’s still talking diet and worms, but Eliza is already firmly on the back seat, tongue wagging.

And Big Boss? I met him briefly and he mumbled something about “maybe a donation” because you are supposed to pay them when they remove your animal.

Donation? Come again.

You’ve drawn the lines in the sand. I’m getting ready for Round 2: our other dog who escaped into the street and got klapped with a sloffie – because that’s also “a sub judice trial”, ain’t it, sir?

Carine Hartman.

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