Lobster Aid - Help save Lobster!

Not a RED lobster, but a rare white one.. a special one of a kind English bull terrier called Lobster. Not only my best friend, but a loving friend & gentle ally to all that have been graced with meeting him. In fact, we don’t refer to him as a ‘dog’ - he’s a ‘person’

Our story or plight you are about to embark on tells of our current struggle to raise funds to ‘get Lobster home’; as we’re stuck in Belgium and need to get back to our friends, family and our life back in Australia..and to do that; we desperately need your help!

After selling and giving away everything I owned (business, car, motorcycle, belongings, etc) to purchase a ‘one way’ ticket to Belgium back in November 2007, Lobster and I departed Australia to take a huge gamble and give life another ‘go’ to start again, and see where it would take us. There was something missing in my life, and after meeting a young Belgian surfer in Byron Bay I thought that this may have been it.

With the promise that we’d be ‘looked after’, given we’d sacrificed everything we had including our lives as we knew it - I put my trust in the universe and here we are. Unfortunately, things didn’t ‘work out’ and without going into further detail; after 3 very rocky months had found ourselves ‘kicked out onto the street’ and inevitably made ‘homeless’. Luckily Belgium has it’s fair share of derolic, broken down buildings and we’ve been able to cart our belongings into a few of the old dumps to seek shelter from the rain, snow and freezing temperatures of a night time.

I have no work visa; nor speak the language and cannot legally obtain or seek employment - nor recieve any monetary assistace from the government (as we basically, don’t exist within the system!) - so, therefore have no possible way of raising the flight to get Lobster home!

A major problem is the extreme Australian quarantine legislations; Lobster must remain in Belgium for 60 - 150 days / or 5 months (after a rabies anti-body blood test is taken) before he can enter back into Australia otherwise he must spend the latter of those days in quarantine confinement. (Eg: 60 days here and 120 days in Aust.) To qualify for the minimum quarantine period of 30 days (cost @ $1,000 a month). Australia’s quarantine laws (PDF file)

I choose to ‘tough it out’ here - I would never put him through such a ludicrous ordeal!

Even worse, after emailing a pet logistics company for a ‘quotation’ regarding Lobster’s costs of a return flight home - I was extremely shocked to find it amounting to $7,800!!! (Given it cost me $3,200 to fly him here - why is it more than double?)

Talking about ‘faith in the universe’; Lobster and I had stumbled across a kindhearted person (whom we now call ‘a true friend’) who just so happened to have been constructing websites for the last 10 years! There’s no way I could have been able to put this together and it’s absolutely amazing - I guess sometimes you never know just what’s around the corner.. and if you can help; it just might be the answer and he’ll be home again!

PLEASE HELP!!! I just need to raise $10,000 for his trip & quarantine costs - if we’re lucky enough to raise anything over that quota in donations, Lobster and I will forward the rest to a charity supporting mistreated & homeless dogs.

It was the day before Lobster’s first Birthday and we’d just moved to Baulkham Hills, into a ‘granny flat’ beneath a work colleauge’s two-story dwelling in Sydney’s Western suburbs. Not the best part of town but I took the good with the bad, being as it was barely five minutes up the road from where I was working as a motorcycle tyre technician for a famous tyre wholesale/distribution company.

There wasn’t much to do out there and being a lazy weekend I’d decided to pen a few lyrics and ended up falling asleep with Lobster. A few hours later, I’d woken with a start to find that Lobster wasn’t there! I raced outside in a panic seeing the screen door open and knowing that he’d proven himself to be a bit of a ‘Houdini’ of late - I frantically searched the huge backyard. Nothing! Well, until I’d discovered the side gate propped open with a brick! Then the penny dropped, so to speak..

There was a mentally deranged lady with a few screws loose in the brain that lived upstairs who just so happened to be moving out after intentionally running my work colleauge over with a car a few days prior! (but that’s another story!)… It had been a common understanding in the household to keep the gate closed at all times (due to Lobster’s rabid escapism) and as infuriated as I was at the time, my only intent was to find him and quickly!

By this stage it was getting quite dark as I burst onto the street, asking anybody I passed if they’d seen a ‘really friendly white bull terrier’ - but nobody had seen a thing so I ran back to the house and the crazy woman nervously said she’s seen him walking around the yard an hour ago. I wanted to strangle her like a barnyard chook - but Lobster was more important, so I resumed my search.

I called my best mate Jayce and told him what had happened and he’d driven over immediately to pick me up, then we resumed the search and scoured every street in the neighbourhood. Still nothing! I was an emotionial mess, hell bent on locating him - hell or highwater we weren’t going to give up and we kept going untill 3 am that morning.

The following day the search intensified, we’d called every veterinarian in Sydney, every council pound and shelter, even the council garbage services in the area, hoping to get information. Still nothing, they hadn’t seen anything but it was positive as it meant there was a good chance that he was still alive out there somewhere. That evening after work, we jumped on Jayce’s PC and printed out hundreds of flyers detailing his description, a recent image and offered a reward in BIG letters.

Every night and weekends we’d be out encompassing five surrounding suburbs, taping up his flyer on main road telegraph poles, bus shelters, letter boxes, shopping malls, vets , everywhere! It had been almost two long and excruciatingly emotional weeks, but as yet - still nothing! Neither of us had much sleep and it was exhausting. I couldn’t concentrate, let alone think at work and was getting rather distraught and desperate.

I’d registered his descripion with an online ‘lost pet’ agency, every little bit of exposure helps. I called a national newspaper and asked about a quote on a front page additorial which happened to be almost $13,000! I didn’t care and was ready to sell my Hayabusa in a flash to pay for it! Even if it was only 24 hours of exposure! I’d booked another week in the classifieds with the local paper ‘Hills News’ and they suggested ’sister’ papers in their ‘publishing group’ which encompassed areas up to 300 kilometers away.. I did and it was to be the best thing I could’ve done!

What proved to be also just as extremely heartbreaking for me were our weekly visits to the council pounds. I wondered about these sad, lost and abandoned dogs biding their time in small enclosures. Their days ultimately numbered as they sat depressed in hopelesness, eagerly waiting for their owners’ return. They all had that look in their eyes, a terrible hauntingly remorseful sadness. None of them to know that their fate was to be, for if they weren’t adopted or claimed they’d be ‘put down’.

The killer for me was meeting a beautiful 6 month old Pit Bull in Blacktown pound. It had a ‘Dangerous Dog’ sign affixed to it’s enclosure. Looking into her innocent orange eyes instantly made me cry, not breaking our gaze she wagged her tail and bounded over to greet me. Immediately she started licking my hands and face through her cage. She was the most friendliest creature I’d ever met! I fell in love with that dog there and then and pleaded with the keeper on duty to adopt her immediately. She looked up the cage ref. number and bluntly insisted ‘NO’ - no matter how much I pleaded, she just wouldn’t budge and just kept saying that it was an ‘illegal breed’ being a ‘pure bred’ and unless it’s real owner came to reclaim it it was getting ‘put down’ in 3 days. She wasn’t sorry nor didn’t she show any remorse.
Believe me, I thought of everything (even getting a portable circular saw and breaking in that night!) but I couldn’t save her. To this day it still haunts me, as does the thought of the others… if people intend get a pet; why do they abandon or mistreat them, that I’ll never begin to understand???? - ‘Pets are for life’!

During a search for Lobster at a neighbouring pound we’d happened accross a 3 month old Australian Cattle Dog puppy - a ‘Smithfield’ (they’re born with a bob-tail and blue in colour). Though I wasn’t giving up on Lobster, this pup had real charactor and after what I’d seen, was hell bent on giving him a chance in life. I applied to adopt him and was able to collect him in 48 hours.

Ironically, the day I was able to do so, I’d recieved the call I was hoping for! Lobster was found, safe and sound! A very kind lady about 250 kilometers away on the Central Coast had a dog in her possession matching his description! It had been three nightmarish weeks and I just couldn’t believe what I was hearing; it was like a dream, so surreal - nothing mattered anymore and I knew it had to be him.. and now I had two dogs to collect.

Sunburnt and battlescarred there he was, it was Lobster alright and as happy as a pig in shit, playing with the lady’s children in the backyard. He saw us and went crazy! It was like a dream, a huge relief and feeling I can’t describe - maybe it’s like winning the lottery - but we were reunited and that’s all that mattered.

It was then that the lady and her husband explained to us the story of how they’d come to have him, it was harrowing. As it were, he was picked up about 100 meters from where I lived by ’some guy’ who simply pulled over and opened his car door. Lobster, being his friendly self had immediately jumped in! This man happened to be strongly involved in ‘illegal dog fighting’ in the area and happened to be somewhat of a dangerous charactor (so no information about him was disclosed to us - and they were extremely insistent about it), and apparently he was ‘thrown’ into a few fights. Lobster had never been involved in a dog fight prior and being his ‘happy go lucky’ self’ wouldn’t have known what the hell was going on! It so happened that the lady’s husband was doing a job in the area and it was a coincidence that they used to also own Bull Terriers, so the mystery guy offered Lobster to him as a ‘pet’. I couldn’t believe my luck…

Arriving home, I called the local paper and cancelled my classified ad. Happily informing them I’d found him they immediately put me in direct contact with a journalist who then interviewed us and published our story within the week. It seemed they’d known about the ‘illegal dogfighting ring’ in the area and the local police detectives had been on the case for some time. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any information on these ‘people’ and couldn’t shed any light on the matter. As far as I know, these evil bastards weren’t ever found and are probably still out there abducting beloved family pets, breaking their spirits and laying bets on them whilst they cruely pitting these dogs against each other in an inhumane fight to death, leaving them abandoned, mauled and bleeding to death after fleeing the scene. Some of these poor dogs are fortunate enough to be brought rescued into shelters or pounds, hopefully to eventually be adopted out - but the others aren’t so ‘lucky’. Don’t for a minute assume that this wouldn’t be going on in your neighbourhood, these cruel bastards are out there and they’re not going to go away any time soon..

Lobster was one of the lucky ones and each day that passes I’m thankful to still have him by my side. I guess the moral of the story is, ‘No matter what - Don’t ever give up!’

‘Man’s best friend’ - a term, a cliche maybe; but a statement that couldn’t be more true to the point. It’s real unconditional love, a companionship and a pure trust that surpasses any human friendship. A lesson in the richness I’ve found, since having been blessed with the gift of ‘Lobster’ to light up my life.

It all started three years ago.. coming to terms with letting go of a six-year relationship with the ‘love of my life’. A turbulent time of emotion and turmoil, suddenly finding myself alone; but happy to salvage my sanity and walk away with my clothes, my cat, and my then ‘pride and joy’ - my 05′ Suzuki Hayabusa 1300R.

The life I once knew was shattered, my heart smashed to pieces broken and heavy; all I knew was emptiness, confusion and the challenge of a yet unfamiliar path that lay ahead. I’m a survivor - always have been and I knew that I had to ‘put the pieces’ back together and move on to a new life. Start again.

Moving into a early 1900’s sub-divided mansion in Sydney’s Neutral Bay, it was time to do what I’d needed to do. It was a huge space, impersonal, high ceilings.. my meagre possessions furnished the cold and empty space - only reflecting the way I felt inside. I was depressed, but I wouldn’t admit it and chose to live that part of my exsistence in bitter-sweet self-denial. I needed a ‘friend’ I could trust, true companionship and needed to share the goodness I still had inside of me.

My 31st Birthday was fast approaching, I’d managed to nab a few days each week through a wonderful friend at a Post Production company. The owner, ‘Al’ - a great man not only sponsored the Ducati Bears Team but raced a 916 in the Australian National Series also. I would combine the two - as being Marketing Manager (and umbrella girl), whilst attending to office duties. Marketing for the Bears Team saw me utilising the internet for potential sponsors; but I couldn’t shake the lonliness no matter how busy I was. It was a constant distraction, and I’d made my mind up - I wanted an English Bull Terrier!

I punched in ‘bull terrier’ into the search engine, though being a motorcyclist and taking a practical view of the situation then decided that it would soon physically outgrow my ride before too long! Though, there’s always a solution to any problem and the way I saw it; the obvious solution would be to get a ‘Miniture’. I’d seen the ‘Miniature Bull Terriers’ before, a small but true to scale replicate of the ‘real thing’ and deciding that would be the smarter choice for my predicament - opted to look into it further.

My search results appeared which listed a directory of Miniature breeders and called each one. It’s always a good idea to research as much information regarding any ‘pet’ that you may want to purchase before bringing it home; just to be certain that it’ll fit into your lifestyle. Strangely enough, all the breeders had litters on the way, months away or had just sold them. I wasn’t about to give up that easily - I can be a stubborn bitch! I searched again, this time stumbling accross another post that read ‘Miniature Bull Terrier - white male, last of the litter - no papers - $800′. So, wasting no time, contacted the breeder and mutually agreed that I’d proptly collect him the next day, my Birthday.

Having arranged to ‘double’ my brother there on the Hayabusa, we followed the map directions to a rural locality far outside the city, travelling over windy dirt roads into the afternoon sun. Upon arriving at the property gates, the breeder had turned up and retrieving a white pup within a backpack from inside their vehicle. He wasn’t moving.

My brother had jokingly remarked with a grin, “Is he dead?”
I just went along with completing the paperwork, handing over the cash and was just concerned with getting him into my backpack and safely home. Then my brother added, ‘Isn’t he a bit ‘big’ for a Miniature?’ I didn’t put much thought into it.

Riding along the freeway home, Lobster sat nestled between rider and pillion for the duration of the hour or so journey home. From dirt roads, freeway cruising at 140k/ph and onto busy inner-city streets littered with traffic; it just didn’t seem to phase him. He had adapted to the Hayabusa without hesitation; he seemed to be a natural, totally composed and from that day on it had proved to become ’second nature’ to him.

Just as my brother had suspected, over the months he’d grown bigger and bigger. Progressing from my backpack (which was quite large!) of which he’d stand in with back feet in either bottom corner, his head protruding out the top to nestle against my neck, whilst his front paws would sit one on each of my shoulders! It was a sight to see; especially since I’d opted to purchase special tinted ‘dog sunglasses’ in replicate of Tom Cruises shades in MI2! He just kept increasing in size, and a miniature’s maximum weight fully grown is 15lb - he was well over that at 5 months!

By the time it rolled around for his six-month vet check up, I’d queried them as to ‘why he’d grown so bloody huge for a miniature?’ - the vet just laughed and replied, ‘I’d say you’ve been had - as that’s no miniature!’ Hmmm.. No wonder there were no ‘papers’ with the sale.

By now he’d outgrown the backpack, the only solution was to sit straddled, between me and the bike tank! He’d place his paws atop my magnetic tank bag, which also served not only as grip for him; but to keep those claws from scratching the paint. He was amazing, and had the best sence for taking corners - leaning into them like a dream! Sudden emergency braking and accelleration were no effort for him, as we’d weave through the hectic 4-laned traffic polluted roads throughout manic ‘peak hours’ in Sydney on our daily travels. Riding was a breeze and he’d sit proudly atop the Hayabusa, now donning his shiny red PVC jacket with reflective stars and ‘T.C Sunnies’!

As you could imagine, he was a spectacle in his own right and people in traffic at the lights, walking along the footpaths, at service stations anywhere we’d go would react in amazement, burst out laughing and take pictures from cameras or mobile phones! He was a ’star’ in his own right and people just loved it.

Lobster would accompany me everywhere I went, attending motorcycle shows and exhibitions, sometimes travelling over 300 kilometers a day in the saddle to get there. The faster we went, he’d just duck down with me behind the visor to total wind resistance and savour the experience. This never phased, worried or stressed him in the least - in fact, he never wanted to get off the bike!

Old habits die hard, as they say and even to this day if he sights an empty bag laying around; he’ll try his hardest to sqeeze himself into it! Even sleep in one, with the hope that we’d venture off for a ride. A true biker!