Natalia’s dog-filled house is full of love, licks and second chances…
As I peered through the bars of the cage, a pair of soft brown eyes met mine.
‘It’s all right, I won’t hurt you,’ I said, gently.
But no tail wagged in response.
Instead, curled up was a sad, withdrawn collie-cross, clearly in agony.
Then I realised to my horror that his back left leg had been hacked off.
‘It was cut off for human consumption,’ the rescue worker said.
I was in Yulin Dog Meat Festival in the remote Guangxi province of China.
I’d recently left my job in London and moved near Canterbury, Kent.
Wanting a complete change, I’d enrolled on an animal nursing degree and set up a dog and cat rescue centre in my house.
Then I’d spotted an advert by Humane Society International about the abuse at the festival.
I need to go there and help somehow,
I thought.
Once there, some rescue workers and
I managed to buy the dog off the market traders and get him out.
Calling him Mishka,
I arranged to fly him to Thailand, where he was operated on by vets and quarantined.
But his problems didn’t end when I got him home.
Vets discovered the surgery Mishka had in Thailand had caused more problems, which would cost thousands to rectify.
‘It might be kinder to put him to sleep,’ the vet said.
‘I’ll raise the money,’ I replied, determinedly. ‘I can’t give up on him now.’
I started a GoFundMe page and, to my astonishment, raised £28,000.
Mishka’s operation was successful, but his recovery
was slow.
With patience and love, however, his coat became shiny, his eyes bright and his tail began to wag.
Having three legs didn’t stop him, and he ran around happily like any other dog.
Meanwhile, I continued to study for my degree and take
in rescue dogs and cats, which
I rehomed.
Not long later, my phone rang.
‘We’ve found a dog in a skip in Romania. His hands and feet were bound and his mouth taped shut,’ a frantic woman said.
She sent me a text with a pin of the dog’s location.
'It might be kinder to put him to sleep'
I contacted rescue workers I knew nearby.
They located the desperate pup, arranging to get him basic treatment before having him transported to the UK.
‘Just to warn you that his spine is broken and he’s paralysed,’ my colleague in Romania said.
What am I supposed to do with a paralysed dog? I worried.
The dog, who I called Benji, was traumatised and aggressive from the start.
I contacted Enrico, my local vet, who was always willing to help.
‘The best thing to do is a double amputation,’ Enrico said.
He explained that leaving the dog’s legs intact could cause infection and put pressure on his pelvis.
The operation was a success, but Benji still looked sad and withdrawn.
‘He needs a wheelchair,’ I said.
Researching, I found a US company which built custom-made wheelchairs for dogs at a cost of £750-£950.
I took Benji’s measurements, ordered the chair, and it arrived five weeks later.
‘He’s not keen,’ I said to Kylie, who worked with me.
‘Let’s give him time,’ she replied.
Sure enough, after a course
of hydrotherapy sessions to strengthen Benji’s upper body,
he started pulling his wheelchair along.
Before long, he was loving it!
Soon, his demeanour changed, he became trusting and gentle, and I was able to rehome him with his new family.
I carried on finding loving forever homes for dozens of dogs who came to me.
But the cruelty I saw never failed to shock me.
One night at 2am, I was woken by a call.
‘A dog is being beaten
in the street,’ a distressed voice said.
‘Where?’ I asked.
‘Peterborough,’ they replied.
It was 150 miles away, but
I jumped in my van.
When I arrived, a crowd had gathered around a dark, furry figure lying in the road.
Carefully, I picked up the dog’s broken body and put her in my van.
Once again, Enrico had to amputate both hind legs and
I was faced with a dog with lifelong paralysis.
But Summer, as I called her, recovered quickly.
I soon realised there was something extra special about this dog.
Despite all she’d been through, she was so gentle.
‘I’m keeping her, but we need
a wheelchair for her too,’ I said
to Kylie.
Summer quickly got the hang of her wheels and was soon off tearing around after the other dogs.
I carried on rehoming cats and dogs, but kept those with the most complex disabilities with me at home.
I registered Floris Friends Rescue as a charity, named after another dog I’d saved.
'We need a wheelchair for her too'
Now I have around
40 full-and part-time people who help me across two sites.
Eight paralysed dogs live with me, including German shepherd dog, Elle, who only has one fully functioning limb.
She was hit by a lorry in Romania and left paralysed with a severed front leg.
But her false leg is now too small, so we’re raising money for a new one.
With a good prosthesis, Elle will be able
to run as fast as the rest of
the pack!
By night, my dogs sleep in my bedroom and by day they enjoy two long walks.
They can’t
wag their tails, but their expressions tell me how happy they are.
They have to wear nappies, but they don’t know any different.
Our running costs range from £10k to £30k a month and sadly, donations are dropping.
We’re also at capacity and have to turn away injured dogs.
My dream is to move to a larger location and help more precious pooches.
Mishka, who I rescued from the brink of death in the Chinese meat market, is now 20.
His eyes are still bright, his coat still shiny and his tail still wags.
He’s living the life he deserves.
I’m determined to give many more pups that same chance.
My amazing furry family shows anything is paws-ible.
Natalia George, 34, Chartham Hatch, Kent
To donate to the charity, go to florisfriendsrescue.org