It’s a common sight on mainland Europe to see hunters in their vehicles, with a small box trailer towing their hunting dogs, squashed in, hardly room to breathe. In Spain, that country well known for sensible laws – I must be joking! – hunters merrily drive around transporting their dogs like that. Yet people licensed legally to transport dogs and cats can be targeted by the authorities. No doubt these authorities are hunters too. We all know they look after their own.
Those of you who have purchased a copy of my book cannot fail to have been moved to tears by the evocative writing of Senor Galguero, by Charl del Rio. In the baking heat of Malaga recently – temperatures of 40 degrees – she has been moved to tears by the sight of podencos being transported in these ‘boxes’ – more like coffins in that heat!
Frustrated at not being able to help the dogs, once more she was moved to write ‘A Weak Moment’
He enters the creaking door as I crouch down in the corner, Im not sure what is in store today but my aching bones tell me I long for comfort. Im so lonely my heart aches, yet amongst friends here chained to the cement floor, Im not alone. We arent allowed to mix together incase fights break out over the green bread we are thrown to eat. Mere crumbs at that. My stomach hurts, and the floors hard, its a poor place, but this is where I, we live.
He sits on the old chair, rocks back and forth on its back legs, then places on his leather boots. Crouching down, I dare to stare quickly up, ignoring my look the boots pulled high, getting up from the chair he grabs his rifle across his back, through the door he goes! The poor lil pup across the way thinks hes gone! She will learn this is preparation for the games. “Survival of the fittest” the wise old galgo calls it.
The clanking and banging starts, I know this means.. the box on wheels coming out.
Oh no, not the box on wheels again. Its hard in there, and we have to all squeeze in, theres no comfort, as we all bounce around while people in other type vehicles watch our sad eyes, and yet noone does anything. I don’t think they can. I wonder would they like to be where we are? Im quite sure not.
The old galgo in the corner is allowed a rest today, he sure deserves it, hes done his time but he’s nursing a sore leg. He knows if it doesnt improve, his days are numbered here, the only shelter he has. The only food he has, the crumbs offered. Unaware of what’s out there, the big world in front, unsure if its better to die chained to the wall, or take his chances. Who can tell, for we dont know.
A few are grabbed by their measley ropes of bailer twine leads, myself included, and then I hear the yelps of the little pup in the corner. She’s not long since said goodbye to her mother, a sad state of affairs. So confused we all try to help her but her youth will either help her, or kill her. Grabbed by the scruff of the neck, sr.galguero holds her high, assessing her little body. you’ll do, trials today! She yelps in fear, oh Lord I hate that sound for it chills my bones, I feel it as if it’s me. Thrust into the box on wheels I try to tell her it’s ok, the one year old galga says “shhhh it’s worse if you cry!”
I see her shaking now, and I dont know what to say, I cannot comfort her, for inside I feel the same way.
We bounce for ages, all of us together. It’s boiling hot and we are sweating. Panting, Sr.Galguero, did you forget to place something cool for us to lie on? My paws are burning on the metal floor. Of course, we have stopped, for you to drink as you are thirsty before the games begin. sr.galguero did you forget a drink for us?
All the men here crowd around, they make noise and I feel for the little pup. She is clueless but I’ve done this a few times. I know we have to wait, be motionless, and not cry, for if we do, a stick hits the box on wheels and we all jump out of our skins. Louder and louder they become, guess we are objects of their game. It sure does feel bad. But for you sr.galguero, I will sit quietly.
The wise old galgo, he would know how to keep us all calm, he would know just what to say, but I fear for him, for he himself knows, if he can’t heal himself, sr.Galguero will replace him. Where will he go with such a bad leg? We all know, little pup is his replacement. She is stunning, and sweet and full of dreams.. but here, dreams don’t come true for us.
Finally on the road again we bound around, Ooooh the one year old galga is sore, she was placed in first, crammed up against the side she hits her hip. Desperately trying not to yelp. A yelp is a beating and she well knows it. I think she is so brave. Some galgos have been so scolded they have had their mouths wrapped in jeans so as not to cry.. we all dread that. It’s what keeps us quiet. Helpess to help those who cannot drink nor eat.. oh sr.galguero is there not another way? I will do all I can for you, if we never see the jeans day!
Wise old galgo says that’s punishment for crying, sr.galguero doesn’t want noise, he tells me never to cry, be strong and hold on to the thought that one day freedom will call me. But Never cry!
I’m grateful for the tips on survival he has given me, but some days I feel so hungry and weak I don’t know if I want to carry on. One day leads into another, and I’m forced to continue life. They say, somewhere exist angels. Wise old galgo told me a story once, about a rescuer who saw a galgo wounded while out on the games, the galgo never came back, she took the galgo, caressed him, wrapped him up in a blanket and took him away. He said it was beauty in motion. A gentle hand, a kind soul. He doesn’t think anyone will ever do that for him, but he wishes me well in my life so I may see that day. I wonder!
Poor Pup is being grabbed now, first off. Sr.galguero dangles her around for all to see, a sad state of affairs. Her eyes are petrified – like the hares we chase for the games.
sr..galguero, she is a baby!
We follow sr.galguero across the sharp corn grass, wise galgo says this was cut for straw for the horses or cows. Least they get fed! I kept that to myself because one year old galga from the box on wheels would sharply tell me to be grateful for what I had. Crumbs to eat.
The sound of crunching beneath his feet on the crisp freshly cropped field makes noise. I dont know if I wish that would warn the hares away, or not. For I hate the games. I’m only young but I am tried. If the Hares outwit us, we are beaten or not taken back to the grave as we call it, the place where we live. The dark hovel which is our home. I try to explain to little pup that we are what’s called “in training” it’s classed as exercise, but if we see a hare we MUST kill it. We are to hunt hares in the cold months, when our bodies are weak, hungry, raw. sr.galguero thinks we run faster, harder for the prey.. If only I knew what a full belly felt like.
Let the games begin! Leads off, we race off, all of us together. Not just sr.galgueros’ galgos but other loud men who sat thirsty, drank for ages, and then drove us here on what they call roads. Wise galgo told me that’s their name, and never to cross one when things like vehicles move on it. I would surely meet my end that way.
Run I say to little pup, as fast as you can. You have to please sr.galguero and make him proud. Little pup runs but she has no idea why. As fast as her long lanky galgo pup legs will carry her. Now terrified, she follows, but its not enough, she lags behind, shes only small. She doesn’t know she is running for her life!!
Theres no bait today, a hare shot out but thank goodness it got away. Killing isn’t for me.
Sr.galguero packs up, little pup let him down. Clearly thinks she isn’t ready for the endless winter runs ahead of us. Packing up the group, one year old galga, her eyes meet mine for I’m not included .. nor the little galgo pup. Fuera! asco de perro! (OUT, Gross dog!) Yikes, we are not going back!! I look at one year old galga, her sad sad eyes, I bow my head in respect to her for I know how broken she is inside. I can only hope old wise galgo knows I’ll make him proud.
As sr.galguero and the box on wheels moves off, we are alone. Pup and I.
I turn on my heels and wander, and wander, days turn to nights, nights to days … pup behind me, my shadow now. Hunger reigns inside me and I’m now the older wiser galgo, I must use all my wisdom to keep pup alive, as old wise galgo did with me.
It’s dry here, thirst reigns.. the sun beats down and the roads are burning. We stick to the side, in honour of wise galgo.. so many humans pass by.. no one stops. Fear inside me for I know we must eat, and I don’t want to kill. I failed the games, but I’m alive. As is pup.
Heat unbearable we retreat to the shade of an olive tree. sr.galguero did you free me?
In the distance comes a tiny frame, slow and calm with a smile and soft voice. I’ve never heard such a tune, sr.galguero bellowed and booted. Is this what wise galgo told me?
I’m so confused, delirious with the heat, and pup just follows my lead. I lie there helpess, tired and weak. Closing in on us, I wonder, is this my end? I’m sorry pup.. I did you wrong, I didn’t show you wisdom, ….
Weak and spent.. I close my eyes, the girl swoops in, pup crouching down.. not wanting to leave her guide and friend’s side, feeling alone, too young to know what to do. A gentle hand places on a collar and lead around pup’s neck. Scared to walk, it doesn’t matter the girl says. “this is grace at its best.”
Scooping me in her arms, I waken to the movement of gentle foot steps, no crunching allowed now beneath her feet. Carefully, carefully she says “its just a car, lie down sweet galgo” I can do nothing else.
Pup lies on my side, head on my chest. Scared yet again. A soft gentle voice and hands caress my ears, all the way until the car stops, I waken to a strange smell, cleanliness. Pup’s being cared, for the girl tells me, it’s you we need to nurse. Rest now.
The day breaks.. a new day, a new sunrise through the window. A new start. THIS is what wise galgo told me about.
My belly is full, my fur is clean. The critters living of my weak body are gone, not even they were my friends.
A family steps in, two young children caress my body, and say I’m theirs. Young pup comes in, a different soul, for she shines and gleams, more beautiful than I’ve ever seen! Pup is to be my forever sister, we have made it.. freedom.’
In tribute to all those who have taken in, nursed, and offered a family to your rescued galgo. To those who aid and help associations to continue their work, to those who hold us close while we care for the needy, and To remember the old wise galgo, who remained and remains cramped up in a hovel, taken advantage of ” while he can’t run he can breed. Until his dying day. “
sr.galguero, you have blood on your hands.’
If you would like to help Charl with the care of the galgos and podencos in 112carlotagalgos shelter, learn more here.