Who knows when the story of the Admiral Nelson began? It would be nice to think that it began well; with his owners being a loving family that brought up and trained the Staffordshire Bull Terrier puppy correctly and with love. The fact that he is housebroken, recognises (and demands walks) on the beach and has an infinite capacity for his love of humans makes this beginning seem not that far fetched. Certainly I know that most of his best years had no love.
Probably stolen, he was used as a fighting dog in an informal settlement. His wounds indicate that he suffered abuse and torture that should have killed him. He survived.
His fortunes were turned by one of those faint glimmers of humanity that every now and then shine through the darkness of humankind's soul. If I have anything to do with it, he will end his days knowing nothing but kindness from his human owner. May I attempt to be the person my dog thinks I am.
A neighbour of a dog-fighter in an informal settlement in the Cape Town took pity on a hairless emaciated wreck of a dog whose eye had recently been poked out with a stick. She stole the dog and took him to a nearby vet. She was unable to pay for treatment and the condition of the dog left the vet no other choice but to end its life
"humanely". The dog had severe mange, which had taken all his hair; the perforated eyeball was septic in its socket; most of his teeth had been broken (either purposefully or through chewing a chain) leaving the nerves exposed. He also had a permanent shoulder injury from being lifted and flung by the left front leg. This coupled to the fact that a dog that should have been around 17kg, only weighed 7kg and there was no money to pay for treatment did not leave the vet much choice.
However something in the wreck of this once proud dog sparked compassion in the vet's receptionists. Probably the same thing that sparked compassion in the person that "stole" him. This kindly elderly lady had a heated argument with her boss and simply refused to let him but the dog down. Instead she summoned Marilyn from TEARS Rescue Society whose policy is not to destroy any dog they accept. Marilyn would later recount that she deliberated for an hour as to whether she could afford to spend the funds of a voluntary organisation on a "no hoper". In the end the underlying love of the dog won out.
So began the next chapter within this remarkable little dog's life. He was operated on to remove the eye and seal the socket and was neutered at the same time. His mange treatment was to last for over a year.
Initially he was fostered by an elderly volunteer of TEARS who nursed him back to health and put some weight back on him. He was then introduced into the general population of the multi-dog kennels of TEARS. Unfortunately history caught up with him and he was deemed unsociable and interned in solitary confinement. This special dog loved humans more than his own kind (despite what they had done to him) and
this was recognised by the Rescue volunteers. They christened there one-eyed ex-fighting dog "Nelson".
Nelson needed a "special" home with no other dogs. At this point his fortunes seemed to take a turn for the worse. Although many prospective owners fell in love with him, no one was prepared to take the responsibility of the potential problems he bought with him. After nine months Nelson was in danger developing kennel syndrome. He had his photo and personal details advertised in a local newspaper with other dogs in this category. This is where I came onto the scene.
Having recently returned from Saudi Arabia and settled down for the first time in 25 years, it was time get a dog. I had been raised with dogs as family pets, but my wandering nature had never allowed me to own one.
I was visiting Cape Town and saw another advertisement for a one-eyed Staffordshire Bull Terrier at an organisation called DAWG. Fate took a hand and I ended up going to the wrong rescue organisation and asking to see the advertised one-eyed Staffie. Chance! I don't think so. The minute I saw Nelson I knew he was the dog for me.
At this point I was staying in a guesthouse in the Northern Cape that was not suitable for dogs. A 10-minute cell phone call later I had obtained permission from the guesthouse owner to keep Nelson in the house. In addition I elicited a promise from him to build a wall on his property. It also took some persuading to convince Marilyn to release one of “her dogs” without inspecting his new owner's premises.
Nelson was not so easily fooled into accepting any human. I had noticed that he reserved a "special" tail wagging welcome for Marilyn, his saviour. All others where greeted enthusiastically but with his tail tucked firmly between his legs. Knowing a little about dogs, I asked to walk him every day until I could take him home, to try establishing a bond. Although he loved the first two days walks I got the "no tail wag"
greeting. When I fetched him on day three, he had made up his mind and selected me as his owner and I got the best greeting you have ever seen a dog give a human.
This turning point in Nelson's life cannot be stressed enough. He had chosen me to be his owner and gave his entire life and trust to me completely. This dog, despite his beaten up looks, has presence and commands respect. He was too special to be called plain Nelson so he was re-christened "Admiral Nelson".
His entire life is now centred on trying to please me. Training and socialising him were so easy it was scary. He has responded to me as if I had raised him. I was warned never to mix him with other dogs or walk him off a lead. Within 2 weeks I had him off the lead. He loves to run out ahead but constantly checks back to me for direction. I can now either summon him or direct him with series of whistles and arm signals. Not only has Nelson socialised with other dogs to please me, he appears to like playing with them on neutral ground and within his domain. I have one command that overrides everything; if I bellow his name he freezes and flattens on the ground until I re-assure him. I have never used n felt it necessary to use, any form of physical discipline on the Admiral.
Admiral Nelson's trip into the African hinterland of the Northern Cape was filled with adventure, space, heat and luxury. The directors of the company I worked for were both dog lovers. They insisted he accompany me to the office and even sat in on boardroom meetings. His only problems seemed to be separation anxiety and attention deficit syndrome. Despite my attempt to keep him on a special diet the directors fed him prime Northern Cape biltong and 400g fillet steaks. Needless to say, his weight increased.
It was at this time that I discovered the problem with his teeth. He had no front teeth at all. Both his lower canines had been snapped and had the nerves exposed. Many of the rear teeth were either broken or missing. A local vet suggested that I cap the canines and remove one or two of the broken rear teeth. A four-hour operation with a local human dentist, a dental technical and vet saw him obtain 2 shiny metal lower canines. One has since had to be replaced at Ondersterpoort Veterinary hospital.
Soon afterwards the Admiral and I were relocated to the industrial region of Springs on the East Rand. Residence was in a town house complex. Nelson hated the move. He was no longer allowed to accompany to work and the townhouse was too enclosed. Luckily another fairy godmother, in the guise of an elderly lady, took him in and acted as his day-care mother.
Springs is a strange place were people will open their electronic gates and watch their large guard dogs attack yours if you walk past their houses. I soon had the reputation of being infinitely more fearsome than any Staffie. I always held the Admiral back and dealt with the offending dogs myself. These encounters often ended up with me having words with the dogs' owners who mysteriously appeared from their hidden observation posts. This seemed to instil in Admiral Nelson that I did not want him to fight and that I was the alpha dog.
As I'm from Cape Town, I can work in places like Springs but I cannot live in them. I finally bought a cottage with a large garden in Heidelberg, Gauteng. Nelson loved it. I still get the "I'm a poor abused dog" act every time I leave him but he drops it as soon as I'm out of sight.
The Admiral accompanies me on all holidays. His place is on the front seat of my pick-up truck, never in the back. Trips are planned around dog friendly accommodation and destinations. So far I have only had to leave him in a kennel once. He makes friends wherever he goes and loves humans, especially those of the female persuasion. Had I been younger I could have used him to pick up girlfriends. He instinctively knows where the most attention is going to come from. Had I been younger I could have used him to pick up girlfriends.
Above all, he is a faithful companion growing old in comfort. I still get the most energetic greeting you have ever seen every day. His shoulder limits the distance of his walks but he demands them daily and it is a joy to watch him enjoying the freedom, as only a dog can.
If I had to add up the amount I have spent on his vet bills, I could have bought champion stock but the shear stress relief he offers offsets this. My one regret is that I cannot breed from him and continue his magnificent spark to another generation.
"From the gutter to the butter" could accurately sum up his life. May it remain so.
I'd like to end with two quotes:
"A society can be measured against the way it treats its animals" Ghandi
"If that is so, we are all in big trouble." me
Mike Baynes
South Africa
Dedicated to Marilyn and all those wonderful volunteers at TEARS."
TEARS do fantastic work amongst the informal settlements on the Cape Peninsular, Cape Town. Not only do they rescue and place dogs; they keep many that will never find homes and they attempt to give basic, practical education on humane ways of keeping pets to less privileged people. TEARS relies on fund raising and public donations, so to any that feel so inclined they can be contacted at http://www.tears.org.za/