Animal Magic

by Carolyn Press-McKenzie

  Back on the ferry we had 47 cats, plus turtles and roosters along with three dogs we picked up from a great charity called Dogwatch. We were exhausted but happy we had relieved even the tiniest bit of pressure. An amazing team of volunteers back in Wellington were ready and waiting. They had organised a cattery to take the cats while we set about rehoming them and the roosters and turtles came back with us to HUHA.

  And then another strong quake hit the city just a few months later in June 2011. Christchurch was in crisis again and we flew into action to plan another trip, in fact two more trips.

  The Interislander allowed us free passage again, and this time our destination was Dogwatch. They were drowning in dogs and desperate for our help. Last time we had taken only three of their charges because we were unknown to them. But by now we had formed a relationship with them and we were their biggest hope. We had done a shout-out on Facebook asking for North Island people to come forward and offer to rehome or foster a Christchurch dog, and the response had been incredible. Vari, Cherie and I were on the road for days, visiting families and doing property assessments. It may have been a national disaster, and time was of the essence, but it was still so important that we knew every home that every dog was going into. We needed to set up all families and dogs to succeed, otherwise the mission would be pointless. These animals needed safety and security, and they needed it fast.

  So with volunteers taking calls and coordinating possible homes and us property checking, we felt like we had everything covered.

  On the two trips down south and back we managed to rehome another 50 dogs in just two weeks, 44 into permanent homes and six into foster homes. As the truck landed in Wellington, a very tired Jim and I, along with Vari and Taylor, who had taken a second car and helped execute the mammoth

  rescue, parked up at Wellington Animal Control. We pulled back the curtain sides of the truck so that the preapproved families could be introduced to their very scared and tired new family members.

  Most of the match-making was spot on, though as expected a few families struggled and the dogs had to be relocated to other families that were a better match. But all in all it was an amazing success. We remember each and every one of the animals we relocated from Christchurch, and we have promised Dogwatch, the new families and the dogs themselves that we will be there for them for the rest of their lives should they need us.

  Once a HUHA animal, always a HUHA animal.

  CHAPTER 39

  Doing what we do well

  A few months earlier I had been voted on to the board of the Wellington SPCA.

  It was a bit of an honour as I was to sit alongside some pretty prestigious people. Though the greatest honour was the faith that the general public was starting to have in me. I had recently won a Local Hero award through Kiwibank’s New Zealander of the Year awards, and now, as the ballots were counted, I was the people’s top pick to help turn the SPCA around.

  I had finally crawled out of the shadows and could now stop apologising for causing a fuss. People wanted me to cause a fuss; they wanted me to be their voice and steer the animal welfare ship onto a healthier and more productive path. The good thing about schmoozing with the bigwigs is that you can get real insight into what makes a place tick, and for the SPCA at that moment I felt anything could be possible.

  At this point both the Wellington SPCA staff and the public were made aware of the major and relentless financial strain the organisation was suffering, so it was clear they needed to take a different tack if they had any hope of forging a sustainable future and surviving. But the now business-savvy Wellington SPCA was starting to implement new, tougher policies in an attempt to dispel the perception that they were at the public’s beck and call as a dumping ground and a source of free or cheap veterinary services. That sort of attitude was sucking the important age-old institution dry. So out of necessity came the time of the ‘managed entry’ policy. While I understood the motives behind this policy and other similar changes, I struggled to come to terms with the impact it had on the animals. If someone fronted up with an unwanted animal, whether their reasons were right or wrong, and they were turned away . . . what happened to the animal, where did it end up, what was its fate? To me, rejecting an animal because of a policy was just too simplistic and, sadly, stories that I felt gave my concerns credence started to trickle in.

  One day a woman named Sue called me on my HUHA phone. She had only just learned of HUHA from a friend and she desperately wanted our help and advice. Sue had befriended a homeless man living it hard on the streets of Wellington. Every few days she would check on this man, named Dave, bringing him blankets, clothes and food. Slowly but surely she had formed a simple but comforting friendship with him and during that time he learned that he could trust her. Sue had approached the Salvation Army, who already knew of the man, and explained that she was determined to help. Together Sue and the compassionate Army staff began working on an intervention plan, with their aim being to get Dave safely off the streets and into a rehabilitation programme.

  There was just one four-legged problem—a little Jack Russell called Syd. Syd was Dave’s constant companion; the two were inseparable. They had spent many a night huddled together, cold and hungry. While the streets had been home to both of them for more than a year, living so desperately rough had also taken a tragic toll. Dave and Syd’s situation was a deathly serious one and Sue knew she was their only hope.

  When Dave was approached with the plan for him to leave the streets, he was understandably full of mixed emotions. Mostly he was very reluctant to let Syd go. But as Sue gently encouraged him and explained that the separation would ultimately save both their lives and that they would each have a fresh start and a promising future, Dave gingerly conceded. Syd would have the life the wee dog deserved. So after a few false starts the three of them drove sombrely to the Wellington SPCA.

  When they arrived and Sue explained their predicament and asked to sign Syd over to the organisation, the receptionist shook her head and told them that unfortunately they couldn’t just walk in the door and leave him there. She suggested that they go to the pound.

  Sue couldn’t believe what she was hearing; she had worked so hard to gain Dave’s trust and she had told him that he could also trust the SPCA and that Syd would be in loving, kind hands. As she pleaded in a very dignified way for the receptionist to reconsider she could feel her perfectly coordinated plan start to unravel. Dave was already on a knife’s edge, it really would not take a lot for him to spook and return to the cold hard streets. The receptionist insisted that the pound was their only option, apologised and said goodbye.

  As they drove to the pound Sue and Dave were fearful and overwhelmed with emotion. Sue internalised her worry because she had heard how harsh pounds could be. As her mind raced, she questioned herself and rechecked her motives but kept a positive façade for the very wobbly and teary Dave. This was a nightmare.

  The very next day on the phone to me, Sue was composed but I could hear the anguish in her voice. She had left Syd at the pound with a very nice lady just the day before and she was now panicking that she may have made a mistake and that if anything untoward happened to Syd she would never forgive herself. She asked me if there was anything that HUHA could do to help to assure Syd’s safety. I asked her which pound it was and when she said ‘Wellington’ I sighed in relief—Syd was with Vicky. I knew instantly he was in safe and capable hands.

  I made a quick call to Vicky and she confirmed that Syd was in her care—she had even taken the funny little character home with her the previous night. I smiled to myself; Syd had enjoyed his first soft bed and warm and toasty home in over a year. Vicky was confident that she would find him just the right forever home. When I told Sue she cried tears of complete relief.

  Sue went on to complain about her experience with the Wellington SPCA and in fact I queried it too. It was such a sensitive situation; surely Syd should not have been turned away in such a finite manner, surely s
ome problem-solving would have led to a solution or at least a compromise or modicum of hope? The point I made to the shelter CEO was that this, in my view, was an example of why each scenario needs to be assessed at face value, case by case. It is my belief that a blanket approach shouldn’t be applied in any life-and-death situation, no matter how many scenarios an organisation is faced with every day—each case is different and each case deserves full consideration. Dig deeper and try harder seemed to be my go-to catchphrase for quite some time . . . in fact it probably still is today!

  As the weeks went on, I heard of more animals being rejected and some even euthanised for reasons I could not fathom. I understood, probably more than most, how overwhelming society’s demands could be on a charity. And I agreed with the strong emphasis the Wellington SPCA was placing on education—the community needed to clean up its act and take responsibility. But when those within the community could not help, when there was no one to vouch for an animal, it was so important for shelters to open their doors and their minds, engage and to problem-solve.

  In contrast—and with hope—I thought back to a day when I was called by an SPCA shelter manager who had been struggling with salmonella in the cattery and was going to have to euthanise all of the cats in their main room not yet rehomed, as that had been the protocol for any serious disease outbreak in the shelter for years. I was in my car and on the way as soon as I hung up the phone.

  Shaun had moved out and we now had a spare room. These cats didn’t need to die, they just needed quarantining until they tested clear for the bacteria. So nine cats came to live in our spare room and, with the help of caring HUHA volunteers and SPCA staff, all nine cats went on to new and loving homes. That was the sort of problem-solving that could be achieved if we all pitched in together. That is the can-do attitude we need to strive for every day.

  But I realised that my voice was not as strong as the business-first attitude that, in my view, was placing a stranglehold on the passion, determination and creative thinking that was needed to save every single animal’s life—or at least have a darn good crack at it. Then I remembered an important lesson my wise mum had taught me:

  ‘Don’t worry about what others are doing, just do what you do well.’

  And there it was, the solution was right there in front of me—I could reinvest my energy into HUHA and open another shelter. We needed to pick up where help and support had dropped off.

  I was proud of our achievements at HUHA Kaitoke, and I was beginning to understand just how different we were. With that all-important knack for thinking outside the square and problem-solving that we had so passionately developed, we had already achieved so much. But we were still predominately a farm animal sanctuary and I was beginning to see that Phase Two needed to be about companion animals.

  I lasted three years on the board of the SPCA but in the end I knew that I personally could help the animals more by growing HUHA. We needed to walk all that talk, we needed to lead by example.

  Every day I would receive dozens of phone calls. More and more people were hearing about our work and more and more people were either wanting to help out or get involved in some way. It was so lovely to see the HUHA magic catch on. My theory was working; the more I said the word ‘we’ instead of ‘me’ the more the community realised that HUHA wanted them to step in and get involved.

  One day I got a message that stood out.

  Hi HUHA, my name is Claire Thornton, I’ve worked at a vet clinic and even travelled to Thailand to rescue dogs as part of a tsunami relief team. I am a mum of three and I very much want to be involved with HUHA.

  I instantly smiled. It wasn’t what this Claire Thornton said; it was the stubborn determination I could hear in her voice. She sounded like just our cup of tea. Claire was up the Kapiti Coast so I referred her on to Sam to help with a pending chook rescue. That would be a great starting point, I thought, and I carried on washing the dishes and quietly pondering to myself.

  CHAPTER 40

  HUHA magic

  Who would have thought a book fair could change so many lives?

  We had managed to borrow a vacant store on State Highway 1 in the small coastal town of Waikanae. Sam’s good friend and others had donated boxes and boxes of books for us to sell to raise some much-needed funds. As we set up the trestle tables and unpacked the boxes, people started to trickle through the door. I scanned the room, watching folk browse through hundreds of books. I listened to them chat among themselves.

  ‘Yes, it’s such a wonderful organisation.’

  ‘Oh, I’ve been following them for years, what an inspiration they are.’

  ‘I work full-time and can’t keep animals myself, but I do my bit by sharing them on Facebook.’

  ‘I have a HUHA dog.’

  ‘I have a HUHA cat.’

  ‘My aunty has a HUHA pig.’

  The stories were endless, and as people were keenly hunting out book bargains they seemed just as intent on sharing their HUHA connections. I was completely proud. I felt like a mum sitting on a park bench at a playground, watching my child making new friends.

  One lady approached me and told me all about HUHA. She told me how it began and all about the Christchurch rescues and that the founder Carolyn, who she had met once, was a regular on Good Morning TV. I listened to her story as she spoke with such assurance and passion. I didn’t have the heart to correct any of the details or to tell her that it was me she was talking about. I just took it all in and marvelled that we had managed to affect so many lives. We weren’t just growing in numbers, we were growing compassion through the strength of our message. It seemed to be giving folk hope and pride and all the good feelings that people need in life.

  My attention turned from the customers to the volunteers. There were only half a dozen but they were working the room with gusto, and one in particular stood out. I hadn’t met her before but instantly recognised her voice.

  ‘Hi, you must be Claire?’ I introduced myself, and continued, ‘Sam said you’ve been helping with the Kapiti chook runs, thank you so much.’

  As we started to natter there was an instant connection. I knew immediately. This was the woman who was going to help me build HUHA into a force to be reckoned with.

  Following the success of the book fair there was an article in the local newspaper elaborating on what HUHA was and that we were looking for land in Kapiti to start a second shelter.

  I had been meeting with Claire and some other wonderful volunteers to look at different properties for sale. Aside from a very kind offer of a deposit loan, we didn’t really know how we were going to pull it off. We just knew that once we found the right location that we would find a way. As we wandered around the various lifestyle blocks Claire and I made plans.

  ‘Who’s going to run the new shelter?’ asked a volunteer.

  ‘I will,’ chirped Claire without a moment’s hesitation.

  And that’s just what happened.

  A week or so later we got a call from an elderly man who owned a dilapidated horse stud farm. He wanted to know if we would be interested in renting the stable block and 14 acres of land in the centre of his 110-acre property.

  It was a dream come true and we signed on the dotted line just a few days later.

  Here is what we posted on Facebook:

  Yippee, we have some fantastic news. We have just secured our new Kapiti HUHA HQ site, and it couldn’t be any more amazing!

  We are so lucky; the property owners have agreed to let us lease the facilities while we get established, with a view to buying it a little further down the track.

  We take possession next week and can’t wait to have you up for a visit.

  The purpose of the new Kapiti HUHA HQ is to have a facility that welcomes visitors, volunteers and supporters, provides an educational outlet and of course is safe and nurturing for all animals.

  Our new facility is located in Otaki at an old stud farm and we are quickly converting some of the 42 stables into sa
fe and comfortable kennels, chicken runs and wildlife rehab aviaries. We think the administration block will be ideal as a cattery. And the paddocks and yards will facilitate our equine assisted therapy and educational lessons. We also hope to develop medicinal herb gardens.

  We had agreed to pay $2500 per month for the old building and paddocks. For me it was much more than a lease; it was an insight into whether we could handle a mortgage as somewhere in the not-so-distant future our plan was to own our own property, one we could purpose-build into a safe and practical haven. In the meantime we would work with what we had and not miss a single payment until our bank saw that we were a good risk and capable of anything. (A sneaky peak three years into the future, with not a payment missed, will show that’s just what transpired.)

  So we started to scrub and clean the tired old building, fix the plumbing and electrics, and build fences. Sam and her new enthusiastic team of volunteers focused on the horse paddocks and yards, which had been built with non-treated and now rotting timber, and Claire and I rallied a team to turn the stables into a dog sanctuary. Each of the concrete block stables in this once grand old building that even boasted a clock tower were three metres square—plenty of room for beds and couches so that the unwanted dogs coming into our care had a soft, warm place to rest their bones. For some it was the first time they had ever felt comfort. For others it appeased the pain of finding themselves homeless.

  Who knew that the dilapidated stables would soon become New Zealand’s leading no-kill animal shelter? And that with our small committed group of volunteers we would change animal welfare outcomes and expectations so dramatically? We had no idea that our formula of time, patience and pure determination would save so many hundreds and thousands of animal lives. We were different and we were already proud.