ANECDOTE | EDUCATION | ANIMAL ADVOCACY
What An Indian Animal Hospital Taught Me About Dog Welfare
Care and compassion for differently-abled creatures
Based on the outskirts of the Indian city of Udaipur, Animal Aid Unlimited is a hospital that encourages tourists and locals to spend time working with rescued animals. Udaipur is the “White City” of the state of Rajasthan, known for its intricate, white-painted Mughal architecture, clear blue lakes and verdant hills. Animal Aid is set on a large rural property in Badi Village, which is home to unowned animals, including stray dogs and cats, donkeys, and holy cows, bulls and calves — all of whom have been rescued from the streets.
I spent several weeks volunteering at Animal Aid as part of my PhD fieldwork, which was focused on the ethical potential of volunteer tourism involving animals. I was interested in how the hospital used volunteer labour to assist local staff in many different aspects of animal care, and how this provided volunteers with a different cultural experience to more typical tourist activities.
I stayed with a local family on the outskirts of the city and travelled to the hospital every day by auto-rickshaw or on the back of my friend’s motorbike. The trip passed through the busy, built-up areas outside the city’s main walls, through narrow streets that wound around the lakes and up into the hills, far from the dusty, dirty streets of the city. The hospital was set back from the main road on a quiet dirt lane fringed by trees and ancient, crumbling stone structures. It consisted of a number of large kennels, shady open areas and covered spaces for dogs to rest and recuperate, and a large field and shed-like structure which was home to the cows and donkeys.
Animal Aid’s approach to care
My work at Animal Aid followed a daily routine set by hospital management and staff. In the morning, I helped to prepare and distribute food for the animals, carrying large buckets of lentil dhal and rice around the hospital to feed dogs; mixes of grain, grass and rice for cows and donkeys; and bottled cow milk for calves. Throughout the day the other volunteers and I cleaned cages, administered flea treatments, washed and removed ticks from dogs and cats, engaged in animal rehabilitation — including massage, play and socialisation — and assisted with surgical operations.
Life in India is difficult for animals, many of whom suffer from mistreatment — especially those who live on the streets. At Animal Aid I mainly worked with cows and dogs who had lived as strays and scavenged food from rubbish tips, though some were fortunate to be hand fed by locals — especially people with strong beliefs in the sacredness of cows or the Hindu principle of ahimsa — “do no harm”, which guides care and compassion for animals. But most animals rescued by and treated at Animal Aid were badly injured or seriously ill, whether from traffic accidents, disease, human cruelty, or from ingesting large amounts of plastic from scavenging rubbish.
On my first day working as a volunteer, Animal Aid co-founder Erika Abrams warned me that I would be shocked by the condition of some of the animals. This indeed happened when I was first introduced to dogs with major injuries and disabilities. Many were paralysed from the waist down due to traffic accidents, their hind legs flopping uselessly from side to side as they dragged themselves around using just their front legs. Some dogs lay dejectedly in their cages, legs and bodies wrapped in bandages streaked with blood. Others suffered from mange and other diseases. Some dogs were so skinny that their ribs and spines were clearly visible under their skin.
Animal Aid’s founders Jim and Claire Abrams took a particular approach to caring for these animals that eschewed the use of euthanasia. As Claire explained to me:
“You might see animals that you think should be put down, but we give every animal the best chance we can. Some might look like they have been through a lot but they are survivors. When they need to go, they will tell us. But until then we do everything we can for them to make their lives comfortable.”
Differently-abled dogs
I learned a lot about the Abrams’ approach while volunteering. One memorable day, I was introduced to a small black dog named Octopus. Her front legs were deformed and splayed out backwards behind her, and she pushed herself around on her chest using her hind legs. At our first meeting she dragged herself over to the edge of her pen, watching me as I tried to decide whether or not to enter. Her tail was wagging, but I was taken aback. It seemed cruel to keep a dog alive in such a state, and I was not sure if I could handle touching an animal who seemed to be so damaged.
As soon as I entered the pen, Octopus hurriedly pushed herself towards me, whimpering in excitement, and rubbed her small head against my bare leg. As I sat down, Octopus — tail wagging furiously — pushed herself onto my lap and her head into my hands. Her strangely shaped body wriggled with pleasure as I stroked her short coat. I realised then that she was not so different from any other dog I had encountered; she just wanted my love and attention. When one of her pen mates crawled over to us, she growled and bared her teeth, rushing at the interloper as best she could and snapping fiercely to scare them away. Having succeeded, she would return to the comfort of my lap, staring at me with contentment as I rubbed her belly and scratched behind her ears.
I also spent time every day treating, grooming and playing with dogs with injuries that had left them paralysed. Like Octopus, these were lively creatures who enjoyed pats and attention. They spent their days resting in the shaded yards, playing with each other and staff members, and barking happily when their thrice-daily meals arrived. I witnessed how dogs who had arrived injured, bleeding, sick and dejected gained a new lease on life as a result of their rehabilitation and socialisation. These dogs thrived on human care and protection, and were lucky enough to find a team of people devoted to their welfare. Their transformations were remarkable.
My experiences at Animal Aid taught me a lot about what constitutes good dog welfare. Having originally feared contact with Octopus due to her disability, I’d soon learned that being differently-abled had not profoundly affected her innate dog-ness, including her doggy needs and wants. Neither had the other dogs’ disabilities precluded them from having fully social lives with each other and with their human carers.
On successive fieldwork trips to animal rescue organisations across Asia I would meet other animals with different bodies and lived experiences, and learned more about how they suffered or thrived — all depending on the care afforded to them by the humans who shared their spaces.
If you’d like to make a donation to Animal Aid, you can read more about their amazing work and how they help animals in need in a compassionate, loving way. Animal Aid is also a great example of an ethical organisation you can volunteer with for free while on holiday, and I highly recommend the experience to any animal lover who wants to travel to India.
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Dr. Nikki Savvides is an Australian author whose writing focuses on animal advocacy and environmentalism. She’s passionate about improving the welfare and conservation of animals, specifically captive elephants in Thailand. With a PhD focused on the ethical potential of volunteer tourism, Nikki has over a decade of research experience connected to these issues.
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For more information on Nikki, her research, and elephant education resources, you are welcome to visit her website.
