Pro-Life
 
I follow Tom Friedman and his op-ed column in the New York Times.  Today he straightened out my thinking on this pro-life vs. pro-choice business.  Basically, he said you can't call yourself "pro-life" if you oppose gun control laws, environmental protection regulations, universal health care, etc.  Being "pro-life" can't start at fertilization and end at birth; it demands a pro-life position on all the issues of our lifetimes.  That shines a new light on a major polemic in the news today.  Picking and choosing some life issues while opposing others trying to make life longer, better, more enjoyable, and healthier is little more than political clap-trap.  And such fragmented thinking wastes our time and deflects our thinking away from issues government can do something about, like the economy, national security, etc.

 

As I mused over this way of looking at life issues, I realized that what we are doing in The Aniplant Project and at Aniplant in Havana is certainly pro-life in a broad sense.  By sterilizing thousands of dogs and cats, I suppose you could say we're interfering with their God-given reproductive lives.  But doesn't that sound silly?  We're really promoting a lifetime of well being, and we're diminishing the animal's chance of future abandonment, hunger, and illness.

 

Yes, and some of the dogs and cats who show up for our sterilization clinics are already pregnant.  In those cases, sterilization becomes abortion, but few people would militate against ending these pregnancies because those pregnancies only make the possibility of animal abandonment and the terrible life that follows more likely.
 
Even those who have a holistic pro-full-life point of view probably would not object to terminating unwanted pregnancies when discovered in our s/n clinics, especially in a place like Cuba where abandonment sometimes follows animal pregnancies.  It's not a callous, heartless attitude that causes pets to be left to live in the streets; it's a generally depressed economy that makes feeding every living thing in Cuba an iffy proposition.  While a family might have enough scraps and leftovers for their cat, they know there won't be enough food for the family, the cat, and a litter of kittens.  Once nursing has ended, it becomes time for separation.  The children cry, and the adults insist, while not showing how terrible they feel.  It's so much better to have Tabby spayed, and that's where Aniplant steps in to help about 5000 families a year sterilize their pets.  The weekly clinics move through Havana's neighborhoods offering sterilizing services on a love offering basis..  Those with no money to pay for it get it for free.

I never really thought about it before, but in a sense, like Tom Friedman I'm a pro-lifer.  I'm working for better, longer, healthier lives for Cuba's companion animals and happier lives for Cuba's pet owning families.  If you want to help, visit our website at https://www.theaniplantproject.org.  All pro-lifers are cordially welcome.
 

Les Inglis

My Menagerie

 

On the walls of the southeast corner of my study hang pictures of the dogs we have had in the 32 years of our marriage.  Only our most recent acquisition, Princess, is yet to join the gallery, but it is inevitable she will.  We've had more cats than dogs, but only Inky, a Maine Coon and one of the first, hangs on my study wall.  To tell the truth, it would be impossible to fit pictures of all the cats into the free wall space left in my study.  From our point of view, it's not a case of too many animals, but rather one of too little wall space. 

I should have known we'd have so many animals—Charlene had 4 cats when I met her.  It was a clear mandate: love me, love my cats.  So we've always had a menagerie in spite of its concomitant work and expense.  When we had a farm, a few of our dogs lived outside, and some of the cats lived in one of our barns.  They all seemed to so well, thanks in no small part to many long trips to the nearest good vet and also to many station wagon loads of pet food (unavailable at any price in our tiny hamlet, Patriot Indiana.) 

But our household dogs and cats are only part of the story.  In Cuba we're connected to another menagerie.  First there was a pack of about ten survivors of Havana's streets living in Nora and her mom's 10th floor apartment. When I first saw them there had to be 10, and since then, their number has ranged from 8 to 12.  Whenever I visit, a knock on Nora's front door ignites a riot of barking that finally abates when I take a seat.  Nora had one little roly-poly curly who wants to snuggle up by me.  They're all delightful, but she's my favorite, though I can never remember her name.

Another part of my Cuban menagerie is 10 to 12 lucky dogs who are permanent residents of Aniplant's slick new headquarters.  There you'll find the protagonists of several of the posts in this blog.  My all-time favorite is Aló Presidente (see my 8/20/10 post to this blog), a curly black Cocker-like leader of the pack who rules the roost from a defended fort between a large box and a wall and under a table.  He couldn't be more my dog if he were here in Florida, sitting next to me as I write this.

Aló has a female counterpart, Bella, also beautiful, long haired and hospitable to visitors.  Bella perhaps belongs to Angela more than she belongs to me, not for any lack of my love, but for the amount of Angela's.  She is a flight attendant from the UK, who was on one of her layovers in  Havana, who spotted Bella, sick and shy near the Plaza de Las Armas, a popular tourist spot.  At home Angela got on her computer, found us, and then Nora found Bella, took her in, treated her pneumonia, and then adopted her into the headquarters pack.  Bella means "beautiful" in Spanish, and the name certainly applies to this dog.  Angela takes every flight she can work to Cuba, and she is a regular visitor to Aniplant's headquarters, always bringing treats and toys for the whole bunch.  Bella's story is told in these posts on 2/26/12.
 
And, although I'll only see most of the other Cuban dogs in my menagerie only once, I can't end this post without a mention of them.  They're the dogs and cats whose owners bring them to Aniplant's clinics for low cost sterilization.  Aniplant's primary activity is spaying and neutering animals.  They do thousands every year with TAP funding the medicines.  When I visit Havana, I always try to visit one of the Saturday clinics that move weekly through the neighborhoods.  There animal lovers and their companion animals wait patiently for their turn in the veterinarian's schedule.  It's a great gift to the animal to be neutered, and each operation is also a gift to the community because massive spay/neuter programs are the only humane way to reduce the population of homeless animals.
 
So, while I usually don't know their names, I pet them, chat a little with their owners, and mentally add each one to my Cuban menagerie

 

Les Inglis

Chinatown 

On my first trip to Cuba I was surprised to learn Havana has a Chinatown.  I wanted to see it, but why the surprise?  After all, the Chinese, as the most populous country in the world, for centuries had sent its people to the far corners of the world.  Thus we have Chinatowns in New York, Chicago, and San Francisco—why not Havana? 

To find Havana's Chinatown you only need to walk around to the back side of the Capitolio, Havana's most famous building.  Then take a few steps past the Cuban Telephone tower where my friend, Dulce, worked many years ago.  (The Cuban Telephone company was the first US owned business to be nationalized after the 1959 Revolution.)  Now you can see a large oriental arch with a pagoda roof at the entrance to Barrio Chino, Cuba's Chinatown.

Once through the arch you see Zanja Street is closed to autos.  It's a narrow pedestrian street stuffed with Chinese restaurants, each with a young man or woman out front trying to show you a menu.  In truth, after several visits, I've never passed completely through the street.  I always got waylaid by the menu hawkers and guided in to a table for lunch.

Of course they all have the traditional Chinese dishes—chop suey, Bhudda's delight, lo mein —but these restaurants also offer rice and bean dishes like my favorite, Moros y Cristianos, which is black beans and white rice.  I'll admit I could probably find something more exotic, but I happen to love beans and rice.  I think after years of practicing vegetarianism, my tastes have become simpler.  Anyway the many types of beans and of rice and the many ways of cooking them offer vegetarians a large variety of dishes.

You can sense that life in Cuba isn't easy for most people, including Chinese restaurateurs.  Coping with shortages is a constant problem.  On one of my Chinatown visits I was given a paper napkin.  As I opened it, I discovered the napkin was actually half a napkin neatly torn into two rectangles along a fold line.  Other periodic shortages force waiters to explain that not every menu item is available every day. 

Service is good or bad depending on your luck in choosing a restaurant.  Most dining is on the second floor so you can't see how crowded the place is while out on the street dealing with the menu hawkers.  One time we were we were worried to see our little table for three was right next to a party of twelve at a long line of tables pushed together.  I knew we were in for slow service, and I was right.

The servings always seem large to me, but in Cuba everyone has a plastic bag to take home leftovers.  Nora calls the plastic bags the Cuban's second stomach.  Not having a bag was no problem for me—for a few coins the restaurant offered styrofaom boxes for leftovers. 

My leftovers were for a couple of dogs I'd seen in a fenced vacant lot used as a parking lot.  These dogs obviously belonged to the lot attendants and ran to me when I stopped by the fence.  A few words is Spanish got me permission to feed them.  I knew they would love even beans as you could see traces of their ribs under their fur.  It turned out there were three dogs, and I divided the food into three portions.  The dogs politely each ate his own portion and didn't bother his canine friends.  How like my own dogs, I thought.  They never bother their housemates when they are eating. 

I made the parking lot stop to feed dogs two times on different trips a year apart.  The lot attendant said he remembered me, but he my just have been being polite. 

I know the dogs remembered me, though. 

Les Inglis

Pablo 

Amanda was on vacation in Havana when she spotted a black dog in Central Park who really looked terrible.  He was thin and listless and not very interested in eating.  She was alarmed, as the reason street dogs hang around the park is to get handouts from the tourists.  If he didn't want to eat, he might be very sick. 

Like lots of animal lovers, Amanda bonded instantly with the dog, and she began to think that it's not right an animal should be anonymous, so she gave him a name.  Pablo was her choice.  She called her vet back home and asked him if there was anything she could do for Pablo, given his circumstances and the fact that she soon had to fly back home to California.  She had a Cipro tablet with her, and the vet counseled her to give half of it to the dog, so she did.

Next, she talked to the concierge in the hotel, the Park Central, about finding a local vet to help the dog.  He told her the carriage horse drivers usually knew vets, and he was right.  Reynaldo, one of the drivers took her and the dog to a state run vet clinic where the vet examined Pablo and gave him more medicine.  All of this took place on a Saturday.  Amanda, who had to leave soon, tried to pay the vet to care for the dog, but he wouldn't take more than a small payment for the medicine.  He did promise to take him home and care for him and bring him back on Tuesday, so she agreed. 

Here the story gets a little confused—the vet said the understanding was that he was going to bring the dog to the clinic at 8:00 am on Monday, and Amanda understood Tuesday was the day.  It didn't help that Reynaldo was the only one who spoke a little English besides Amanda. 

Back at her hotel, she did a search for animal protection in Cuba and came up with a couple of possibilities.  The Aniplant Project (TAP) was one such contact, and we relayed the situation to Nora Garcia, Aniplant's President. 

Here's where it gets crazy.  The vet brought Pablo to the clinic on Monday morning, and, with no one there to pick up the dog, gave him to a person he did not even know.  Nora showed up on Tuesday morning, and all she got was the vet's story.

From a dog lover's standpoint, the vet was irresponsible in trusting the dog to someone he didn't even know and leaving Amanda and Nora with no path to trace his whereabouts.  From the vet's perspective, he was at the clinic at the right time and this was just some other tourist who may already have even left the country.  He had a clinic full of sick dogs to run.  From the dog's standpoint, the chances of his new custodian being a dog lover able to give Pablo a new home were slim to none.  He had a better chance of being abandoned again. 

I was injected into the middle of this polemic translating Amanda's questions to Nora and Nora's answers to Amanda.  Our best hope was that the stranger who received the dog really wanted him and that we could somehow find out who he was to resolve Amanda's anguish. 

If the dog was to be abandoned again, I was hoping it would be again near Central Park.  Dogs in that area know where to search for food and have many more tourists from whom to beg.  That seemed not too likely since abandonment is usually done without regard to the dog's needs.  Amanda had some photos which Nora reproduced and posted in likely spots, hoping someone had seen Pablo recently. 

Meanwhile the emails and phone calls continued.  I really felt sorry for Amanda not knowing how this animal could so completely be lost to her.  But it all came to a happy conclusion when on Sunday, eight days after being taken to the vet; an email arrived from Nora which said: 

We just found Pablo.  He's again in the same park in front of Amanda's hoetl where she found him.  Today I fed him as he is extremely thin.  Tomorrow we start treatment, and we are looking for a foster home.  I'm sending pictures. 

Nora 

All's well that ends well.  In later correspondence, Amanda decided that she wants to adopt Pablo and bring him to her home in California.  That's a long and very complicated procedure, but it has been done before with the help of friends at APAC Varadero, Air Transat and Candi International.  We'll cover that activity as it develops in these blogs. 

Les Inglis

An Encounter with Big Brother

An Encounter with Big Brother




My friend Ray and his friend Chuck decided they wanted to travel to Cuba, and Ray called me one day to learn how I had managed to go there 8 times. Ray is a successful businessman who has traveled all over the world, so I could understand his wanting to go to a place most of us think is completely forbidden by US law. Remembering Ray was a supporter of TAP, I told him they could probably qualify for the humanitarian exception to the US travel restrictions. His interest in our work in enabling massive spay/neuter campaigns, his willingness to carry some veterinary supplies in his luggage, and his desire to visit Aniplant's headquarters could all be considered in getting a license to travel legally into Cuba.



I started him off with a referral to a friend at Cuba Religious Initiative, an American NGO licensed to permit qualified US travelers to visit Cuba. After that I didn't have much contact with Ray, as he is an experienced world traveler, and I knew he could handle the details of his travel arrangements. I did suggest he stay at Havana's Hotel Nacional, and he told me he had a need to be in Costa Rica, so he would fly from San Jose to Havana for a four day stay. I alerted Nora of his visit so he would be able to visit the Aniplant headquarters and other points of interest.



Several days before he left, instead of vet supplies, I gave Ray a 10 pound pack of TAP brochures which Nora had requested of Charlene during her trip to Havana in April. I had carefully identified the contents and destination of the package. We wished Ray well on his trip.



They bought Cuban Tourist Visas in the San Jose airport and traveled to Havana on a Wednesday arriving at Havana's Terminal 2, a modern facility with all the trimmings like jetways. Their troubles began as they passed through Cuban Immigration. "What is the purpose of your trip to Cuba?" asked the agent. "Religious," said Ray, prompted by his US license from Cuba Religious Initiative. That was really the wrong thing to say. The CRI license is actually not for approving religious travelers. Its name comes from its founder's close connection to Jewish groups in the US and Cuba. I had used the CRI license without incident for a group of 5 travelers earlier this year, and we were all there for humanitarian (spay/neuter, animal protection) purposes.



Ray didn't know Cuban Immigration is particularly sensitive to religious matters. You can visit the country and even call on religious sites and go to church, but they don't want you preaching. They also require a much more expensive religious visa than the tourist visas Ray and Chuck were carrying. That precipitated a 3 1/2 hour long interview in the airport arrival terminal during which Ray and Chuck showed the agents their US license to travel.



Now agents of Havana's Terminal 3 (where all the flights of US origin arrive) are used to seeing such licenses, but they give them little attention as they have nothing to do with Cuban immigration. They aren't in the business of enforcing US travel regulations. Chances are the Terminal 2 agents Ray and Chuck were talking with had never seen a CRI license before, and certainly they rarely saw US citizens at their terminal. Here the agents were with two gringos there for religious purposes (by their own admission) with some sort of curious US paperwork with the word, religious, in its letterhead. From their point of view these guys were very suspicious.



Ray and Chuck were more than a little shaken by their long, contentious interview. At the end of it, they were allowed to go into town and to their hotel, but were instructed to appear at an Immigration office and buy religious visas. Ray called me that evening and I joined them in feeling apprehensive. As a general rule, you don't want to mess around with immigration agents in any country, much less in Cuba. I immediately emailed Nora, and she acted immediately with her friend (and Aniplant Director) Maylin, a competent English translator. They arranged to meet Ray the next day and to call on the Aniplant attorney.



On Thursday, the Aniplant attorney heard the story, felt there was nothing too serious, and advised them to enjoy their brief time in Havana and show up for their return flight to Costa Rica where it would be resolved prior to their departure. The rest of Thursday and all of Friday were therefore devoted to tourist activities. Saturday at the airport, they were told they could not leave and that more steps were needed to resolve the issue. Of course the Immigration office in town was not open on the weekend, so they planned to show up there Monday morning.



They had to return to the hotel, register for two more nights, and kill time for the rest of the weekend. Ray realized the extra costs of the hotel and expenses for the extra time were going to strain their cash resources. Here at home and in most foreign countries that wouldn't be a problem. But in Cuba credit cards on US banks cannot be used. (The originally planned 4 nights had been prepaid, but now the extra expenses of the longer stay were mounting.)



They found time to go the Aniplant's headquarters in Central Havana and see the renovations we had done to the 200 year old building—new utilities, water system, bathroom fixtures, an added second floor, painting and tile work, and a new veterinary clinic. Ray told me how much he had liked Aló Presidente, who I consider sort of my dog. See Aló's story in these blogs dated August 20, 2010 and titled "Aló Presidente." Nora and Maylin took care of Ray and Chuck, never leaving them to sort out problems on their own. They loaned them the money to get home which was needed until they could get back to a place where their credit cards worked again.



They all showed up at their 8:30 am appointment at Immigration thinking a resolution was imminent, but these agents were acting pretty tough. They repeatedly asked, "Did you come to Cuba to work (preach)?" They finally were directed to appear at another Immigration office downtown at 10 am on Tuesday. That meant still another extra night in the hotel as they could not leave on Monday's flight. Worse news: at this Tuesday interview Nora and Maylin would not be allowed to attend. Still worse news: They would travel to that office in an official car (as if they might escape when all they wanted was to go home.).



At 10 am Tuesday they showed up and began still another session of pointed questioning. They had checked out of their seventh night in the hotel and had their luggage ready to go. They were reserved on a 6 pm flight to Costa Rica (3:00 check in) and hoped this meeting would not last long enough to make them miss that flight.



Finally, out of the blue and with no stated reason, one of the agents told them the matter had been resolved. They had determined Ray and Chuck had done nothing wrong. They were free to buy their tickets, go to the airport, and leave.



They had to drive into the western suburbs to change their tickets then drive well out of town to get to the airport. Nora and Maylin were with them and had promised Ray that they wouldn't leave the airport until their plane was off the ground. They arrived at the airport with little time to spare.



Believe it or not, after running this gauntlet of probing agents and of the airport officials questioned them again. Once came the questions, the answers, the uncertainty. Finally a smiling face told them, "OK you can leave; it's clear you did nothing wrong." They barely had time to board the plane.



Nora and Maylin did indeed remain at the airport until they saw the plane lift off from the ground.



Sometimes to be in another world you don't have to be very far from home. Ray and Chuck now have a story from behind the Iron Curtain they can tell their grandchildren, and Nora and Maylin can be proud of their prowess as animal protectors—only this time the animals they protected were human animals.



Les Inglis

Excess Baggage

Excess Baggage

I read a daily newspaper-like website called Havana Times. It seems to be a place for free speech and offers an opportunity to add comments to each article. Writers seem to come from all political leanings—old line Stalinist Communists, modern Cubans who support the government, disidents, Cuban expatriates who have fled to the US, and these last are further divided between those who hate the Castros and those who just long for a return to normal relations between the US and Cuba.

I try my best to keep politics out of what I write about Cuba. After all, our main interest is to improve life for the animals in Cuba, and politics is mostly a "people" business. Therefore, why should I weigh in on political topics? I'm not disposed to criticize my own country and when I'm in Cuba, I know my presence as a guest will only be tolerated so long as I stay away from political themes. Fine by me.

One article by a Cubana seemed to take offense that US visitors there often bring items along to pass out as gifts—like bars of soap, or tubes of toothpaste or perhaps shampoo. She felt it was somewhat demeaning to accept such gifts, as there are sources for them in Cuba and accepting them would suggest Cubans live a much more basic existence than they actually do. Perhaps they can't get US brands because of the embargo, so this means no Colgate toothpaste. But this doesn't mean no toothpaste at all.

Well, in my visits I've always used hotels and talked mostly about animal matters, so I can say that even after eight trips, I don't have a full appreciation of the daily lives of Cubans—their problems, their pleasures. Surely there is pressure on workers to feed, house, clothe, and transport, but I'm sorry to say that I can't articulate the details of these pressures.

Every trip I've made I've taken lots of meds and vet supplies. This is an area where I know the locals sometimes face severe shortages. Once, the organization that gave me the US license to travel to Cuba asked me to carry a few packages of personal items to specific people in Cuba. A box arrived at my house from them with a few packages of toothpaste, vitamins, soap and such. I'm sure that charity believed that mundane personal items were needed and wanted in Cuba.

Xenia and Bob, good friends who have gone there twice with me carry along prodigious quantities of vet items, but Xenia doesn't forget the personal either. On her first trip she had several beautiful women's handbags. They were for Nora to pass out to the volunteer members of Aniplant. We later heard those handbags were some of the most appreciated items we brought.

Charlene decided to clear out some closets and ended up with 150 pounds of women's dresses, slacks, tops, etc. I went to Salvation Army and got a huge rolling suitcase for them. Nora felt they were all useful and carried them back to Cuba as excess baggage after attending the Humane Society of the US Animal Care Expo in 2009.

While I can only speak for myself and a few close friends who have traveled with me, I can state that every donated item is offered in the hope it fills an unmet need in someone's life. There is so much we have that we probably don't need or perhaps will never use. We try to get some of this stuff across the Florida Straits as an act of love. Never is there the connotation of "alms for the poor." Instead we offer "help for our fellow creatures" (human or otherwise.)"

Les Inglis

Tropical Storm

Tropical Storms

Like an unfavorite cousin, Isaac threatened to blow into town earlier this week, and about a day ahead of his expected arrival, he changed his mind and changed course for New Orleans. We heaved a sigh of relief and thought for a minute of the poor New Orleaners sitting there below sea level with only 14 billion dollars worth of new pumps and dikes to protect them from another Katrina disaster. Probably few of us thought of the people who live along hundreds of miles of Cuba's north coast which closely parallels Isaac's track through the Florida Straits.

Well, there is some reason to worry more about New Orleans than Cuba. It's because Cuba has a hurricane protection plan that works, as has been proven time and time again. They evacuate everyone in advance of a storm, and this includes sick, elderly, bedridden, and everyday citizens. This isn't just a sheriff's deputy knocking on your door to tell you the Governor says you should leave. In Cuba it is regular radio broadcasts, arranged transportation, established shelters in reinforced buildings and lots of advance planning. In Cuba there are no gridlocked highways full of frightened fleeing people stalled in the rain and blowing their horns. Only a small fraction of Cubans even own a car. The preplanned busses that everyone must take are there, and their capacity matches the number assigned to them.

Of course here in the US, the Governor can't really tell me to do anything unless I've committed a crime or he has declared martial law, so we always have a certain number of dauntless adventurers who "ride it out" hunkering down at home with varying results. They can get off scot-free and comfortably if the electricity and gas service holds out, or they can lose the gamble and lose power, their house, or their lives in ascending order of importance.

Someone once said the best defense against a hurricane is not to be there when it arrives, and that's the sage advice upon which the Cuban plan is based. They say "go," and you "go." You can do those things in a strong man style government. And to give them their due, since 2001 only 35 Cubans have died in 16 named storms. Compare this with 1836 people dead just in Katrina's 2005 visit to New Orleans.

So we can all agree that as admirable as Cuba's record is in protecting its population from tropical storms, it comes at least partially from the iron grip its leaders have on power and from their control over individual freedoms. It's hard to imagine such power ever being wielded here in the USA.

Considering our different style of governing, I think future US performance in combating storms will be pretty much like our past record: a few lives lost in direct hits and near misses and the occasional Katrina- like disaster when we become lax in flood protection or building codes or evacuation plans or shelter availability.

One hopeful trend I've noticed here in recent years is provision for household pets in public storm shelters. This was completely ignored in the past, but today many shelters have such capability. It's a good thing when you consider that many people think of their companion animals as family members. Really dedicated pet owners would no sooner leave their dog or cat at home to ride it out while they evacuate than they would leave their first born son. Our family is in that category, and you should see us when we evacuate.

We have to rent a large SUV as neither of our cars are big enough for 2 dogs, 6 cats in cages, 2 people, and our necessities for a few days., Preparing all this takes a couple of extra days which injects us into an even more iffy "cone of uncertainty." More than once we have found ourselves 200 miles from home, holed up in a motel, and walking the dogs in the rain while the storm turned, followed us, and the weather back home never got worse than slightly breezy with a light rain.

Les Inglis