Piper

Woman reunited with stolen dog linked to 'rescue' centre
By: Bethany Lindsay, ctvbc.ca
Date: Friday Dec. 2, 2011 6:02 PM PT

Allison Coyle is reunited with her dog Piper 10 months after the pet was taken from her apartment.

A woman whose dog was allegedly stolen by the operator of a B.C. "rescue" centre and then put up for adoption has been reunited with her beloved pet 10 months later.

Allison Coyle's dog Piper disappeared from her apartment in February while she was at work, and she was told that he had escaped while her roommate was moving out.

Coyle began a desperate search and soon discovered a Kijiji ad from A Better Life Dog Rescue indicating that Piper was up for sale.

"[I was] absolutely shocked and right away I called the RCMP," she told CTV News.

This week, A Better Life founder Janet Olson and her co-director Louise Reid were charged with break and enter and theft for allegedly snatching dogs out of people's yards in Surrey and Coquitlam this year.

When the news broke, police received a tip about another dog that had been adopted by a couple in Chilliwack through A Better Life. That dog turned out to be Piper.

Late Friday afternoon, Coyle and Piper were brought back together again in a tearful reunion.

"Piper is my everything. I'm just really excited and happy and it's just been crazy," Coyle said. "I just don't want to let him go now."

Olson admitted to CTV News that she posted the Kijiji ad, but said there was a mix-up and the post was supposed to be for a lost dog at the request of Coyle's former roommate.

"We did not steal that dog -- of course not. That dog was living inside a house. Why would we steal a dog living inside a house? That would make no sense at all," Olson said.

Surrey RCMP Cpl. Drew Grainger says that investigators are recommending further charges against Olson in relation to the theft of Piper.

Allegations date back years and across U.S. border

There's a long history of police complaints against Olson, an Air Canada pilot. Four years ago, a pet owner in Washington State called police to report that her dogs had been stolen and A Better Life might be involved.

Two dogs named Lady and Lucky were spirited away from Anne Gardiners's unlocked garage in Redmond on Nov. 25, 2007.

"It was really upsetting to me," Gardiner told ctvbc.ca. "My daughter had a very hard time, for a very long time, grieving over those dogs."

Gardiner said that it took a "monumental effort" for her to track the dogs to their new owners, but she located them in White Rock and learned they'd been adopted through A Better Life.

She got in touch with the new owners, but soon learned they had returned the dogs to A Better Life. Gardiner hasn't heard anything about Lady or Lucky since.

The dogs had only been with their new owners in B.C. for two weeks when police called, the family told ctvbc.ca. But the theft allegations left them stuck between a rock and a hard place -- Olson had told them Lady and Lucky were abused by their former owners and in need of rescue.

The family made the tough choice to return the dogs to A Better Life, but say the decision has "haunted" them ever since.

"I thought we were making a really responsible decision by adopting through a rescue centre," said the wife, who asked not to be named.

"I would never adopt a dog from a rescue operation again."

A Facebook group called No Better Life collects stories from pet owners who claim that their dogs were stolen by Olson. The missing pets include Hunter, an Airedale cut from its chain in a family yard in 2008 and then allegedly put up for adoption through A Better Life.

In an interview with CTV News this week, Olson said that she doesn't steal dogs, but rather rescues them from cruel owners.

"These are sentient creatures. They deserve to have their rights protected by society," she said.

But Gardiner adamantly denies that her dogs were mistreated. She said she went to "great Lengths" to make sure the animals were cared for, and spent about $3,000 to train them.

In the most recent theft cases, Mounties say they caught Olson and Reid, wearing uniforms reading "Animal Welfare," lifting a bulldog named Samson from a property in Coquitlam on Nov. 21.

Olson claims the dog was "at risk of freezing to death," and needed rescuing.

The BC SPCA says that it has heard similar allegations against A Better Life over the years. Marcie Moriarty, general manager of cruelty investigations, calls the claims "disturbing."

She says that animal rescues should be left to SPCA constables, who can confirm cases of animal cruelty and obtain warrants to seize the animals.

"It's important to deal with these issues legally," she said. "We can save animals' lives that way."

The SPCA works with more than 60 animal rescue organizations in B.C., but does not associate with A Better Life, according to Moriarty.

"They do not fit our standards," she said. "We work with lawful rescues who follow the law."

Surrey RCMP say they are looking into historical theft allegations against A Better Life, and are asking anyone whose pets have gone missing under suspicious circumstances to call police. Gardiner says she has been in touch with Mounties since Olson and Reid's arrest.

Olson and Reid are scheduled to make their next appearance in Surrey provincial court on Dec. 15.

Source: http://www.ctvbc.ctv.ca/servlet/an/local/CTVNews/20111202/bc_a_better_life_dog_theft_111202/20111202/?hub=BritishColumbiaHome

Bernie, a shaggy white dog

You don't get to hear the rescuer's story nearly often enough. But Jill Posner tells a beautiful story on her blog. A lot of us would give anything to have this experience. Enjoy the story.

Bernie, looking happy he was caught!

Bernie's family - what a night!!!

The sweet tail of bernie tucker
October 14, 2007

I've been feeling down, teetering on that familiar ledge of uncertainty. Funny how fast that cliff edge can appear, just when I feel that I'm running on solid ground. Like turning a corner and oops, the ground has shifted beneath my feet. I've lost one of my pack recently, my human pack, and over the last few days, I sense I may be losing sight of where another one is headed. An unknowing, lack of resolution, something feels frayed and unfixable. It's not dissimilar to the sense of helplessness one feels when a beloved family pet disappears and you never find it. As the hours pass into days and months, the guilt grows, along with a firm belief that what you really want - is just to know. One way or another. Knowing is better than not.

I was heading down that dark path on Wednesday. The rain was sitting on my horizon and it was literally heading in to the East Bay. Rain may be necessary but it is not my friend. The phone rang. Steve, a man I knew, a little, from the time I helped him and his wife Ilene catch a small white terrified stray dog, was calling with a familiar plea ' Jill, I need some help with a dog'.

Steve had been feeding a shaggy white dog for a week or so, a dog who had been seen in the area for two months, but had just begun to show a pattern of behaviour. He (why did we think it was a he?) would emerge from the darkness of the railway tracks, the vast structures of the Chevron refinery shadowy in the background, flashing lights of the rail crossings casting a red glow over the scene, and the huge container train hissing and squealing slowly across the intersection at Cutting and Garrard.

Steve had begun to leave food behind a chain link fence surrounding a construction site, where the dog would spend part of the night. He had tried to coax the dog to come to him, but each time the animal had fled.

Wednesday night I drove to Point Richmond to see if I could help. Moments after I arrived, I saw him. Standing in the road near the construction site. There is something so acute about a dog's senses when he knows, just knows inside, that you are a predator and not a casual passer by. Before we had a chance to approach him, he put his head down, eyes studiously avoiding us while knowing exactly where we were, as if he were Bogart in a movie - moving swiftly, raising the collar on his raincoat and taking the first alley off Main Street, disappearing as if he had never been there. But in the dark I could hear the slightest tinkle as if a metal tag hung from a collar. The telltale wisp of smoke from Bogie's cigarette.

I smiled. I love these dogs. I told Steve we'd have to trap him, using a large humane trap, baited with food. He said 'this dog has the saddest face I've ever seen'. We would better understand why last night.

My friend Karen, an animal control officer with rescue red blood pumping through her veins, drove me and a trap to Steve and Ilene's house yesterday afternoon, and last night, just around dusk, Steve and I carried this large metal crate through the streets to the site, like two kids on a secret mission that you don't tell your parents about. We set it up and put the food at one end. The dog has to step on the metal plate in such a way to release the spring and the open gate shuts behind him.

We sat 50 yards away, on cold stone steps, watching and waiting. Finally, an hour later, there he was, a dim shape, carefully entering the building site and padding over to his feeding spot. And incredibly, moments later the dog was walking into the cage. I knew we would hear the harsh metallic sound of the gate slapping shut, but we heard nothing. Steve started panicking. But then I realised the dog was standing facing what would have been his exit, and he was motionless. The trap had worked. We tripped over each other rushing to the cage. The dog, barking furiously, was about as damn cute as they get. His anxious barking was accompanied by an involuntary wag of the tail.

As we approached the cage, I saw, under his shaggy, filthy, matted coat the metal tags I had heard a few nights before. Steve and I carried the heavy trap with the dog swaying inside, staggering like drunks, clambering over raised concrete walkways, and freshly dug trenches, half laughing half crying and cursing each time the trap bashed one of our legs. There's a moment when a stray but domesticated dog, so savvy on the streets, so eager to avoid capture, just surrenders. It's the most incredible thing - but at that moment, he knows that he is safe. It's why people like me, decry the cruelty of many animal shelters where this trust is betrayed each day.

At the house, we carried the trap into the garage and shut the door.

I slowly opened the gate and slipped my hand in to put a leash around his neck and guide him out. He moved slowly from the trap, a look of exhaustion on his face. His coat was muddy, thick mats hung from all over him, foxtails, burrs, and sticks dangling, and his fur hung in his eyes. His collar, once blue, was tangled in the matted mess. Slowly, as he flinched less and less at each touch, I found the clasp and released it. A red metal heart tag clinked against a rabies tag. They were both unreadable. Steve raced upstairs to wash the tags, and when we thought we could read the number, I made the call. The dog, called Bernie according to his tag, had stretched out on a blanket, not running now. It was 8.30pm.

A woman answered. I said 'I'm calling about your dog, are you missing a dog?' The voice on the other end sounded weary, as if after a dozen false starts, she no longer allowed herself the excitement of thinking her dog may have been found. Finally, she understood. I had her dog. I had the collar with the red heart tag, and her phone number. In San Leandro, nearly 30 miles away, Pat and Doug and their family couldn't believe what they were hearing. 'I love that dog with all my heart'. Pat said. I replied, 'well, he's here and ready to go home'. I felt she still didn't believe me.

At 9.30 pm, Bernie Tucker was reunited with his family, his explosive joy reverberating around the small entryway as he leapt at them, as they sobbed and shook with wonderment. I asked 'How did he get away from you?'. He jumped out of the car', they said, 'in Oakland, the window was just a little too low, and for the first few days we got dozens of calls, and then nothing'.

Here's the kicker. Bernie hadn't been running loose for two months. Bernie went missing in January. Ten months later, one evening in October - as he, with the face of a sad lost dog, began another night of evading the cruelty of strangers and depending on the kindness of strangers - in the space of two hours - Bernie Tucker went home.


Source: Jill Posner's Blog
http://jillposener.blogs.com/jill_rants_and_raves/2007/10/the-sweet-tail-.html