Posted 14 Augusst 2013
From vanessa email@example.com
We at the SPCA have received many complaints from members of the public together with the vets, who are concerned about the growing incidence of puppy farming
and syndicated smuggling of puppies across our borders.
1. Most puppies being sold are claimed as pedigree puppies - unfortunately this is not the case. Often puppies are interbred (parents may be brother and sister) this presents many defects most of which only present themselves as the animals grow up.
2. Puppies are sold with fake documentation including fake vaccination certificates and consequently often contract diseases such as parvo virus and distemper.
3. Puppies are produced under the most horrific and cruel conditions, many do not survive. Those that do are smuggled in boxes, car boots and under seats as they undergo terrible journeys. Often they not fed or offered water for extended periods.
4. Buying a puppy without knowing its exact history nor seeing its birth parent is a sure indication of a factory farmed animal. You are supporting cruelty by fuelling demand.
5. The smuggling of animals is now rated globally as second to that of drugs and is run by syndicated criminals. Yes even here in Zimbabwe these criminals are thriving.
A proven fact is that cross breed animals live longer healthier lives than pedigrees.
The SPCA has many happy, well adjusted and healthy puppies all looking for suitable homes.
Remember each time you buy a puppy from criminal or gang producers you cause the death of 10 puppies in an animal shelter.
Opt to adopt!
Posted 29 November 2012
Various Items for Free: all pig, chicken, rabbit farmers and bird owners, we have bins and bins of cabbage outer leaves, lettuce leaves, damaged fruits that we throw away daily, if you would like this FREE produce, please call in at Willsgrove Farm Enterprises, 32 Birmingham Road Southerton (inside the Steelforce premises) with your own containers, bags and we will gladly fill them for you. Call us on 04-758815 for any further information.
Posted 12 September 2012
Poisoning of Pets and what to do.......
Avondale Veterinary Surgery [mailto:firstname.lastname@example.org]
There is a growing spate of house break ins happening all around Harare with the dogs being poisoned. Unfortunately at the moment we do not offer a 24 hour service for our clients but hope that this information will help you.
1. If you find your dog has been poisoned and you have the time while your husband gets the car out - get the dog to drink as much milk as you can to absorb the poison.
2. However, the quicker you get to a vet the better. Time is of the essence and every minute counts. We recommend going to the UZ Vet Hospital in the UZ grounds from the entrance on Churchill Road. The Vet Department is off to the left once you go through the main gates. Their phone number is 0774 449 783 and it would be a good idea to phone them whilst you are on your way so that they can be prepared for you and waiting with the correct drugs.
3. Another alternative is to go to the 24 hour surgery on 2nd Street Extension. Telephone No. 303518/9.
4. Check around your garden and house very carefully to make sure that there is no poisoned meat left lying around.
5. I have heard that a petition is being started to urge the Ministry of Drugs/Medicines to cancel the import licenses of dealers bringing in this poison. I will keep you all posted.
6. We are open all day Mondays to Fridays from 8.00 to 5.00. Saturdays 9.00 to 12.00. Sundays and Public Holidays 9.00 – 11.00.
Avondale Veterinary Surgery
Cnr. Kenny / King George Roads
[Opposite New MultiChoice Building]
Phone : 339971/2
Emergencies : 0772 342 241
Monday to Friday 8.00 - 5.00
Saturday 9.00 - 12.00
Sunday & Public Holidays 9.00 - 11.00
The Predators’ Dating Club, and Other Stories from the Bally Vaughan Animal Sanctuary
It’s Monday afternoon at the Bally Vaughan Animal Sanctuary in Zimbabwe, under a lemon-yellow sun molten with midday heat. At the edges of the bleached blue sky fragments of cloud form an ethereal promise of evening rain. Natalie Braeker , Lani Bigham and Neve and Chris Wade, our volunteers from Australia and Switzerland, have taken various little creatures down to the dam to play. Travis the orphaned baboon leaps and swings and scampers on his little bow legs, his shiny pink bottom flashing in and out of the trees. Chucky, a tiny blue baby vervet monkey is staggering about on the grass, his grim grey face as wizened and drawn as an old man’s, his long pink fingers picking nimbly through the grass and popping occasional morsels into his cheek pouches. Meredith the meerkat has joined the outing, embarking on one of her mammoth archaeological expeditions, tunnelling with unwavering determination under a mossy rock with her long- clawed front feet. There is a pair of wild ducks sailing serenely across the sun-splashed water and a hammerkop perched in prehistoric profile on the dam wall. Kingfishers flash swift and iridescent against the hot granite rocks as they hover, plunge and hover again above the water in search of the elusive shimmering shoals of baby bream.
Suddenly the ducks break into panic-stricken quacking, beating the water with frantic wings. The three girls lean forward over the edge of the water to see what the commotion is about, and the sinister coffin-shaped head of a python emerges from the depths . The shrill shrieking o f volunteers can be heard all over the Sanctuary as the girls snatch up Travis, Chucky and Meredith and flee. The irate babies add their own screaming commentary to the general panic and the staff come galloping to the rescue.
The phone rings. It is a somewhat querulous elderly lady who insists that there are man-eating wild animals living in her garage roof. She is too frightened to take her car out, so has been using taxis. We arrive with nets and cages and some trepidation. The vicious beasts turn out to be a charming, wide-eyed family of night apes, who consume nothing bigger than insects, and fit into a human palm. We relocate them to the Sanctuary and release them, no doubt leaving behind the potential makings of yet another urban legend.
An entire farmyard arrives at once – eight little goats, a smooth-haired, glossy black ram, four gigantic chickens with legs like the Road Runner and wrinkled, bald pink necks, a quivering huddle of plush, pink-nosed rabbits and a quacking cacophony of Muscovy ducks. An eagle owl with a badly broken wing comes in – he will never fly efficiently again but we will be able get him to the point where he will be mobile, and free within the Sanctuary grounds, helping himself to the nightly buffet we lay out on the roofs for the various owls on the property. A barn owl and a gloriously fluffy, round-eyed baby eagle owl arrive. The eagle owl was found floating in someone’s swimming pool, no doubt having been overly ambitious about leaving home. The barn owl is a returnee – one we released a few weeks earlier who has fallen foul of some sort of predator and lost some flight feathers. We find him sitting quietly on the steps of the hospital, trailing his wing, as if to say, “Excuse me, can I see a doctor please?”
And then there is Vernon, who has enslaved us all. Vernon is a giant eagle owl who fell out of a tree in the Save Valley into the path of one of the Conservancy managers. Vernon is elderly, and has a chunk missing from one wing. Standing two foot high and with a five foot wing span, he surveys the world from beneath thick pink eyelids with a sweeping fringe of thick black lashes that accentuate his enormous, deep brown eyes. He has a massive, savagely hooked beak and enormous, powerful talons. There is something mystical and other-worldly about Vernon. His startlingly human eyes brim with an ancient, world-weary wisdom – when he gazes at you, there is an uncomfortable feeling he is not terribly impressed. Vernon currently reigns over our new owl hospital enclosure, treating the various other owls with trailing wings and splinted legs like economy passengers who have had the temerity to stray into the first class section. Each evening we serve three whole chickens to Vernon. He eats two during the night, devouring the heads first. Each morning as I clean up after him, I make a tentative attempt to remove the slightly smelly third chicken. One immense talon shoots out, snatches the chicken and tucks it protectively beneath his chest. He then goes to sleep on it, nibbling little bits off it occasionally like someone savouring a big bar of chocolate. Our thanks to Joy and Alistair McIntyre for bringing Vernon to the Sanctuary. There is a romance brewing in the hospital – two rescued eagle owls have paired up, sending fluttery glances to each other from beneath feathery eyelids and “who, who-ing” sweet nothings back and forth. We will release them together and hope they will go on to lead happy lives in the environs of the Sanctuary like so many other owls have done.
One hundred and fifty six cattle egret chicks shove and squabble deafeningly over the eight kilograms of chopped meat they consume every day, with a lone sacred ibis rescued together with the egrets when the trees they had nested in for generations were cut down. We took the downy, gangly-legged chicks in over the space of two weeks and caring for them en masse has stretched both our time and resources, but seeing them fly off in a snowy cloud (and then return home resolutely every evening for room service...) has been wonderfully rewarding. They do have a day job, tending fussily to our numerous rescued farm animals as they graze their way round the Sanctuary, plucking off ticks and gobbling up grasshoppers and other insects disturbed by the animals hooves, squabbling ferociously amongst themselves over choice morsels.
As the year draws to an end, it is time to reconcile the Sanctuary accounts. It is a job I loathe; virulent expletives and the sound of things being thrown is the soundtrack to this exercise, and the presence of various heavy-breathing, paper-eating, hairy creatures wandering through my open-air office doesn’t make it any easier. I have already had words with Gwendoline and Francis, a pushy chicken and her unctuous rooster husband, for insisting on incubating a future family member in the cash box. Morag the kitten is asleep on a chair beside me in a silky tumble of smooth grey fur and immaculate white whiskers, twitching her small but deadly white paws as she dreams her ferocious predator dreams. The donkeys are involved in one of their tumultuous bodice-ripping sagas – Biscuit, the matriarch, has run off with Culotte, a much younger and rather dashing young donkey who has tremendous street cred after surviving a hyena attack, and the other donkeys are in an uproar of outraged, gossipy hooting and braying.
All in all, the atmosphere is not conducive to mathematical application and I am scowling over the calculator when a volunteer wanders in and asks, “Have you met Brad Pitt?” I gaze at her for a speechless, glowering moment – surely she can see this is not the time for idle movie star gossip? Then she opens her hand and shows me a tiny baby bat clinging to her palm. Brad Pitt will need feeding at two hourly intervals, and this will have to be fitted into the already hectic volunteer schedule.
Elaine Ryan, our New Zealand volunteer, is taking Travis for a play date with the older baboons. Travis is a delight with his bright brown eyes and Prince Charles ears, full of bonhomie and charm until its bath time and then his dark side emerges. Once the Battle of the Bath is over, Travis is a damp, scented, heavy-eyed angel, clad in a disposable nappy with his bottle dangling from his mouth. With his powerful hands and big square teeth he is already capable of inflicting injury and Elaine and his previous carers Louise Muhlauer and Natalie Braeker have done a remarkable job of raising this challenging baby. Volunteers also serve as Meredith the Meerkat’s personal trainer. Having counted three plump pink rings across her plush stomach that were not there a few weeks ago, I knew it was time for Meredith to have a makeover. Twice a day she is taken to an enclosure by the river where she can dig and climb before returning to the home she shares with the adorable Angus the genet and the debonair Raffi the kitten. The exorbitant purchase and importation of a very chic harness for her means she can also be taken for walks, if we can get the harness over her substantial belly and past her snapping teeth. We are truly grateful to Di Fynn for sponsoring a new exercise pen for Meredith, and for her unstinting and constant support of the Sanctuary and our many projects. Thanks to Ann Farrow for supplying Meredith with toys and treats and contributing to her daily needs.
Oreo joins our family of rescued donkeys. At some stage his leg was so badly broken that it is now about five centimetres shorter than the other and he walks with an awkward lurching gait, the hoof on his other front leg twice as long and thick as it should be to compensate for the injury. Astonishingly, once we have treated the various injuries and ailments that the rescued donkeys always have when we find them, we discover that not only can he run like the wind, but that he has developed a mean little karate move with his deformed hoof, chopping viciously at the other donkeys and making sure he is always first in the queue for breakfast. Thanks to everyone who contributed to the fund for new winter pyjamas for our seventeen donkeys – they will look fabulous in the woolly, striped ensembles in electric pink and bright blue (just what every fashion-forward donkey will be sporting this season).
Mr Mong, a hand-raised banded mongoose, arrives. He is absolutely bristling with testosterone and drags himself about his new enclosure on his smooth grey stomach, scenting everything from the water bowl to his bed with his own signature perfume. Our troupe of free-ranging banded mongooses bring their ten tiny sleek babies to meet him and all the boys shriek and growl and puff themselves up in an impressive display of machismo until the ladies of the troupe remind them that it’s their turn to baby-sit. Sadly the troupe wont accept Mr Mong and so to keep him stimulated and happy he goes on ‘field trips’ each day to different parts of the Sanctuary so that he can dig and explore and hunt insects to his heart’s content. His wicked white teeth which he wields with the speed and dexterity of a Samurai warrior strike fear into us all and getting him in and out of his travelling cage requires lightning fast reflexes and great courage! Most of us are sporting the tell-tale circle of bloody punctures on various limbs, testament to Mr Mong’s irascible nature.
Yet another baby vervet arrives – found clinging to his mother’s dead body on a farm, he is an etiolated grey scrap with a huge head and distrustful grey eyes and a ferocious appetite. Several times a day our four orphaned vervet babies gather solemnly round a large bowl of baby cereal, eating with their fingers and chattering to each other like a group of little old men, baggy white nappies made of old towels tied round their little waists with shoe laces. Volunteers hover solicitously over them – Zimbabwean Stacie Cilliers, Mirinda Thorpe from Australia and Paulette Riou from Cananda, as proud and protective as any group of mothers! Working with four baby vervets about your person is not easy – one solution is to push them about in a wheelbarrow, another is to carry them in your t-shirt or hanging off your hair, someone even tried strapping them to her back with a towel with the monkey heads protruding from the top like a multiple-headed gargoyle.
AngieMogele from Germany joins our volunteer team, together with our first ever canine volunteer, her dog Paul. When Angie asked if she could bring her dog, having travelled with him from Germany and through South Africa, I breezily agreed. We now have so many dogs at the Sanctuary, surely one more would not make a difference. Little did I know that Paul was an Anatolian Shepherd dog – when this giant, hairy beast leapt from the car, even the lions were taken aback. Paul proved to be a hit with our lady dogs – not even suave Rover the Red Dog could compete with all that tousled hair and sexy foreign accent, but curmudgeonly Kevin and insecure Barkly hated this foreign interloper on sight.
Two Egyptian geese, fourteen baby guinea fowl and a moth-eaten adult guinea fowl come in. The Egyptian geese have had their wings crudely and deliberately broken to prevent them from flying away. The ends of their wings are twisted backwards, the feathers broken and threadbare. We will get them healthy again and they will be able to live ranging free at the Sanctuary, able to swim and nest on our dam but due to mindless cruelty they will never be able to fly again. Trevor the Ungrateful joined the family – a small grey foul-tempered chameleon rescued at the toll gate whose name was then changed to Trevor the Unable when we discovered he was actually blind from a head injury. Astonishingly Trevor has made a full recovery and can be seen brooding sourly in the flowerbed in my garden, catching aphids with his astonishing long tongue. On the other end of the personality scale is Russell Crow – who came in with a severely damaged wing and who also lives in my garden. He is a delightful, cheery soul who has overcome the handicap of not being able to fly by training himself to make Olympic leaps in and out of trees, and who has made up for the lack of crow companionship by sharing a roost with Woody, the mad eagle owl who lives outside my kitchen. With the recent arrival of a lady crow we have named Sheryl, perhaps Russell will be able to live a more normal life.
We are totally against the breeding of big cats in captivity in Zimbabwe and our family of seven lions is closely monitored for signs of expansionist tendencies! With so many of the Sanctuary’s rescued lions physically compromised by inbreeding, and emotionally damaged by neglect, the last thing we need is more of the same. With the rescue of Wire and Kimberly, two debilitated lions in need of life-long veterinary care, we now have a whole new set of possible family planning scenarios to contend with. Kimberly is on a contraceptive as she shares an enclosure with Wire, a gigantic male who despite being sixteen years old is a typical aging Lothario, complete with swept back hair and a seductively deep Barry White sort of voice who is convinced that all women find him irresistible. All he needs is a shirt unbuttoned to the navel and a medallion nestled in his chest hair. His neighbour, the gorgeous lioness Kadiki, with her astonishing golden eyes and sleek lissom form, is the object of his rather boorish affections, and much unnecessary roaring and strutting and scent-marking accompanies the courtship. Kadiki grew up in my home, and then lived as a single girl for several years, so she is blissfully unaware of the etiquette involved in feline romances. She treats Wire with spectacular contempt, roaring in his face and sticking out her pink tongue in toothy yawns at his muscle-bound machinations and he is torn between outrage and fascination at her feminist principles. Dr Ramlaul put Kadiki on the same implanted contraceptive used for Kimberly, but the heated arguments through the fence only intensified. This is a battle of wills, and neither Kadiki nor Wire will concede an inch. So, once again we call our friend James at Fence Africa – now the fence will be electrified, on both sides, to keep the warring parties at bay. Poor Kimberly and Nduna (Kadiki’s companion), both peace-loving and amiable souls, are exhausted, as are we – playing referee to two brawling lions at three am in the pouring rain, night after night, is wearing us all out. Our very grateful thanks to the wonderful people at Cool Galah in Australia who are funding this and other renovations to the lion enclosures. Thank you to Karen and Stacey Gent for the inspired sponsorship of Kadiki the lioness – check out the O-boy Kikoy facebook site for details.
Wire and Kimberly, rescued in August 2011, have made remarkable progress. With plentiful food, veterinary care, a spacious enclosure full of trees and sunlit granite rocks and that essential ublimited ingredient- love, the two lions continue on their journey towards health and happiness. Kimberly is a delight – affectionate, playful and mischievous, she entertains herself for hours with simple games involving old car tyres and sticks. She is an enthusiastic communicator, murmuring to herself as she strolls about the enclosure, giving a little roar every now and again as if simply unable to contain her pleasure at her new life, and crooning over her food like a gourmand at a Michelin-starred restaurant. Wire is vocal too, groaning comically as he lowers his bulging tummy onto the rocks bathed in evening sunshine after his substantial dinner, and the fear-fuelled snarls and growls that erupted from his mangled throat when he first arrived have mellowed into half-hearted grunts and the occasional muttered expletive.
Harry the caracal has started dating, at the advanced age of eleven. After the loss of his beloved friend Arthur, Harry was grief-stricken and totally reliant upon me for companionship. As I headed off for work each morning, he would work himself into a hysterical state, growling and hissing and grabbing at my hands and feet with his substantial claws and teeth to stop me from leaving. Each evening he would drape himself over me on the couch, grooming me with painful intensity and biting me if I tried to dissuade him. Sitting grimly in the shower under a cascade of hot water, standing sentinel on the kitchen counters, lying pressed up against me on the bed with my arm clasped firmly between his large paws – whenever I was in the house, he was right there, to the point of having to have an enormous litter box for him because he wouldn’t go outside without me. There was only one solution. Cruella the caracal has lived a solitary, self-contained life in an enclosure in the Sanctuary her entire life. Twice I had convinced myself she was lonely and dispatched one of my caracals to keep her company – she hated them. Now, at the age of thirteen, she has moved into my garden and into a totally alien life.
Harry was smitten instantly, greeting the appearance of another caracal with little bird-like chirps of delight, and in the timeless way of many men, trying to take liberties with her before even so much as a bunch of flowers or a candlelit dinner has been offered. She was not impressed with his initial ideas for hot dates – digging up the vegetable garden, hunting lizards or taking all the shoes out of my cupboard and eating them, and his advances were coldly rebuffed. Then one day I came home from work unexpectedly to find them fast asleep in a furry heap on my bed. When the happy couple awoke, it was made quite clear from the icy green glances and menacing growls that three was a crowd and I spent a solitary evening on the couch whilst Cruella purred and stretched and luxuriated in the newly discovered bliss of my bed watched with misty-eyed adoration by my formerly devoted companion. Now I know how it feels to be a mother-in-law – Cruella has quite clearly instigated the “it’s me or her” conversation and Harry made his choice without any qualms. I am still allowed to serve their three daily meals and provide the various home comforts so apparently essential to super-predators, such as feather pillows, teddy bears and hard-boiled eggs, but I must not cross the line and presume I am anything other than the help. Quite frankly I don’t know what he sees in her – she’s far too old for him and she doesn’t cook. Harry is very fortunate to be generously sponsored by Mark Walker and his family – being a caracal of means is no doubt part of the attraction for the mercurial and inscrutable Cruella.
It’s not just the animals that dictate my lifestyle at the Sanctuary. The staff have their input too. From the kitchen staff giving me double helpings of food I didn’t ask for and tutting disapprovingly if I don’t eat my crusts to Collin my invaluable assistant locking me firmly into my garden each evening whilst reciting the list of necessities apparently required to get me through the night.- drinking water/torch/radio/dog food/caracals’ dinner/Harry’s breakfast egg/rain coat/malaria tablets/four separate giant bunches of keys etc. Then I am reminded not to shower if there’s lightning, to lock my doors, phone my mother, use mosquito repellent, keep the kitchen window closed to stop the mad owl getting in, keep the bedroom window open to allow caracals to leap in and out at regular intervals throughout the night, to call him if I find snakes or scorpions in the house, not to lose the keys and to sleep well. He has just added the admonition not to go outside if it is a)dark and/or b)raining. This is after I blithely stepped over a giant puff adder the other night, and the following evening almost got struck by lightning when it hit the rock directly in front of me and the servals I was feeding during a storm. The other evening I ventured out to have dinner with friends who live down the road. Farai, our gigantic night guard, stationed himself censoriously at the gate and announced he would be waiting until I came back. “I should be back by nine,” I said breezily. He gazed at me accusingly and said, “Will that be today?”
Many of you followed the remarkable story of Arthur the caracal and his heroic struggle against the myriad health problems he suffered as a result of in-breeding. Crippled as a kitten and carried everywhere by me on a large red cushion, Arthur took a ride in a private jet, went on safari and saw an elephant, travelled in a speed boat, went on a fishing trip and enjoyed a sojourn in a five-star hotel with his very own plunge pool to where the waiters amiably brought his chicken pieces on a silver tray. When he eventually regained the use of his back legs, motivated it seemed by sheer will-power, he went on to be best friends with a lion, survived a cobra attack and a fire, and in his proudest moment killed a giant puff adder. He was the bravest, most gentle, dignified and determined cat I have ever had the privilege to know. When he finally lost his two year fight against diabetes at the age of nine, Harry and I were with him and after he died, Harry gently washed his little body from head to toe. He is buried beside his sister, Twala, who cared for him so tenderly during her own lifetime, and each morning Harry likes to sit quietly in the fragmented sunshine that falls on their graves, perhaps drawing some comfort, as I do, from the feeling that the spirits of these beloved creatures are with us still. To us, Arthur will always be remembered as “The Cat who Could”.
Sponsorship from Fivet, the Twenty Four Hour Vet Hospital and our 2011 Golf Day has made it possible for us to establish a mobile community clinic in our area for animals in need. With the recent upsurge in rabies cases in Zimbabwe and the absence of any veterinary facilities in the Chikwaka rural area, our aim is to vaccinate every single dog in the area. We have vaccinated and de-wormed 215 dogs and puppies during two clinics, and treated ailments such as mange and tick infestations. Donkeys, cows and other rural creatures arrive for treatment too and it is an uplifting sight to arrive at the designated meeting places and see the cheerful melee of creatures patiently waiting for assistance. Some animals have been brought from miles away, walking the narrow red dirt paths through the bush with their raggedly-dressed owners. The dogs never fight, simply lying quietly in the shade while we record names and addresses, administer vaccines and de-worming tablets and then send every single dog home with a large, donated bag of Savanna dog food. Thanks to Nets and Ropes we are able replace rusted chains, cables and twists of tree bark with rope leads. Sanctuary staff and volunteers work together with Dr Ramlaul and the provincial vet officer to check each animal thoroughly and to encourage owners to neuter their animals which is done free of charge by the Twenty Four Hour Vet Surgery. Puppies arrive perched in wheelbarrows or in cardboard boxes, pot-bellied and bright eyed, followed by their anxious weary mothers showing years of indiscriminate breeding in thin faces and sagging tummies. There are only a few elderly dogs – it’s a tough life for rural dogs and their life span is generally short, but every owner has made considerable effort to bring his dogs to us, and they all leave with a better chance of a happier, healthier life: bossy Police, little Mite, a rather butch Tinkerbelle, long-legged Spider, stripy Tiger, Skippy, Speed and Sparky, Duty, Bullet and Licence, bristling Blaster and his shy friend Dust, the cosmopolitan Vegas and his scholarly brother Hamlet, and unforgettable British – the pure white dog that no one else liked.
The Sanctuary operations have been transformed by the purchase of a two ton truck, funded by our 2011 Golf Day. At long last we have a reliable means of hauling the massive amounts of meat, stock feed and fruit and vegetables needed for our animals. It also allows us to do large animal rescues efficiently. We also purchased another diesel generator, building materials to repair enclosures and build new ones, a diesel water pump and fittings, rains suits for all staff members, rechargeable lights, a commercial deep freezer to store predator meat, and made repairs to our old Mazda truck, built a large, secure paddock for rescued plains game and shelters for many of our animals. To everyone who made the Golf Day such a resounding success and gave the Sanctuary such a desperately needed boost – we thank you and appreciate your assistance every single day as we see the animals benefit from your kindness and generosity.
To the people who make the Sanctuary what it is – a wonderful safe haven for a multitude of birds and animals in need – thank you from the heart. Manyame Milling, Centra, Shumba Millers, Premier Milling, Montana Meats, Douglyn Farm, Carswell Meats the Khumalo family, Trinity Ncube, Food Lover’s Market, Fresh Pro, Sunspun Bananas, Mrs Hudgestone, Norma Keatley, Rose Maclean, Debbie and Craig Sly, all at Transcom, Mr Sly, Ruwa Furnishers,Multi-Choice, National Carpets, Millers Cafe, Orian Mendes, Alliance Insurance, Alo Alo restaurant , Alro Shipping and Transport, Appliance Warehouse, Associated Meat Packers, Bendek Trading, Billy’s Meats, B.K Paints, Chloride Zimbabwe,X-treme Hair & Body Salon, Grant Flower, Fuchs Oils, Golfing and Giving, Heather Israel and Marion de Beer, Colcom, 40 Cork Road, Ashley-Kate Davidson, Citichem, Crest Chickens, Patrick Mavros, Lorraine Thomas & the Cartridge Company, Debbie Jeans & members of Rolf Valley Gym, Esbank, Fruit & Veg City, Cheeseman, I.T.D, Kinsey & Co, Leonardo’s Restaurant, Nicole Havell, Digital Marketing, Netrade, OK Zimbabwe, Pan African Mining, Papa’s Restaurant, Peter’s Signs, Dulux, Solenta,Goodwood Hotels, Graham Beck Wines, MedGen, Indian Food Joint, Electronic Systems, Zacks, Zimbiz, Wingate Golf Club, Quentin Stuart, Lorraine Randall, Rolling Stone, Rooneys, Shuttle Direct, Signs of the Times, Cynthia Smith, Softex, Silver Glory, Tiger Computers, Bruce McLaughlin & Trotters, Tselentis, VetPharm, Victoria 22, Wattafrica, Jane du Preez, Roger Baylis, Mark Basson,, E-Micro, ExoMark, Whelson Transport, Andrew & Leigh Revolta,. Shane Zangel, Bumi Hills Safari Lodge, Arthur Shultz, Waterwright, R.C.I, Kim and Campbell MacMillan and all at 9a Drew Road, Chisipite Conservation Club, Nicholas Duncan & the Save Foundation of Australia, Stuart Pardoe, Shannon Taylor, Cathy Carter, my mom Sylvia Carter, Sarah Jackson and Derek Selby, the Book Borrowers, Karen, Gary, Alex and Sophie Bean, Sheena Povall, Larry Norton, Jenni Ferguson, Rob Follet-Smith, Troy and Liz Prinsloo, Motor Torque, Health Ease, the ever-supportive management at Ballantyne Spar, Spar Distribution, Rich Lombard & Ultimate Diaries, the Paulillos, WebDev, Yo Africa, the Perepeczkos, Penny Havnar, the Rushforths, Toyota Zimbabwe, Andrew and Cindy Davidson, Tanganda, Mega, Kutaura, Anton Newall, Sue Roberts, Caboodle, Sunny Moore, Insurance Services, Radiator Services, Barbara Durrant, Chris Wade, Atlas Earth Movers, Kathrine Smit, Kevin Stead, Avril Abrahams, Deb Addison, Norma, Mrs Nicholls & all the ladies at Pleasant Ways, Dr Clare Savage, Sally Mucklow, Katie Ferreira & Sharon School Grade 1, Jesse Watson, Ramsey, Joe Leese, Meg Hopley & Happy Hands Nursery School, Emma Robinson & family, Wendy Boshi, the Ockerts, Maggie Taylor, Nicole and Danielle Watt, the Cilliers family, super-efficient and dedicated Sharon Nicholls who makes such a difference to the Sanctuary operations, Shopping Club, Heidi Oates, Danny Fernandes, Joe Davies, the Ballistics ladies, Rick Stainton, Beverly Bridger, Cecilia Cabodie.
There is no need to book to visit us. We are open every day except Mondays from 9 – 5. Entry for adults is $6, children below 12 $3. Join us for Predator Feeding and a free guided tour every day at 4pm. Our restaurant is open serving light meals and drinks all day. Please note that we do NOT have overnight accommodation. The Sanctuary, run by Sarah Carter, is a separate entity to Mwanga Lodge, and has been since 2005!
Visit www.ballyvaughan.co.zw or follow our blog at ballyvaughansanctuary.wordpress.com. Contact us on email@example.com or call 0772 592 944 or 0733 436 238 or 9.
With love and thanks
Sarah and all at the Sanctuary
THE BALLY VAUGHAN SANCTUARY
Tel: 263 772 592 944 263 733 436 239
PUPPY TRAINING. Have you just got a new puppy, do you want it to grow up to be a well behaved member of your family. I am starting a 4 week course on Saturday 21st January, all puppies welcome, provided they have had all injections. If interested contact Ursula McKinlay Land Line 744417 Cell 072 336055 email. firstname.lastname@example.org Or phone Cherry Blake Cell 0772 326922.
DOZY DOGS – NOW OPEN!
For all your DESIGNER pet accessory needs & requirements!
TO ORDER AS WELL AS STOCK AVAILABLE.
IF ANYONE WOULD LIKE TO FORWARD ME
PUPPIES/KITTENS FOR SALE I WILL ADD THIS
ONTO OUR NOTICE BOARD…..
WE ARE SITUATED AT
PLANT PLAN GARDEN NURSERY –
STOKESAY CLOSE, BALLANTYNE PARK.
ENQUIRIES CALL: TARA CRUGER- (0912 253 677)
WE WILL BE AT THE ‘ARRAY EXPO’ – 4TH SEPTEMBER
AT PLANT PLAN!
Hi, all you animal lovers!
This is pretty simple... Please ask ten
friends to each ask a further ten today!
The Animal Rescue Site is having trouble getting enough people
to click on it daily so they can meet their quota of getting FREE
FOOD donated every day to abused and neglected animals. It takes
less than a minute (about 15 seconds) to go to their site and click
on the blue box:
This doesn't cost you a thing.
Their corporate sponsors/advertisers use the number of daily visits
to donate food to abandoned/neglected animals in exchange for advertising.?
Here's the web site! Please pass it along to people you know.
AGAIN, PLEASE TELL 10 FRIENDS!
Latest offers and services
PAMPERED PETS INC.
Paul's Pet Boarding Chalets (the only licenced boarding kennel in
Posh Pets Beauty Parlor.
Pomona Dog Training School
Pomona Farm (Quarry) Alpes Rd Pomona
Ph 0912 352 348 , 0913 164 234
Due to popular demand grooming is now available
on Tuesdays as well as Thursdays by our professional groomsman.
Please phone the surgery to book your appointment. Doors open at
7.30 but you tell us what time you would like to come in and we
will try to accommodate your pet.
Small dog $10
Medium dog $15
Large dog $20
Prices includes bath, grooming, clipping and nails.
Please note that if the dog is very matted an extra $5 is charged
by the Groomsman.
GPS for Pets
Do you shudder at the very thought of calling out to you dog and he
is know where to muzzle and drool on you in his usual Hello!!. Oh
My! The dog is gone walkabout and he is no where to be found.
If you really love your Dog. Please consider A GPS Tracker with SMS
calling and your dog like your husband will be a phone call away.
Just call your dog and it will send you SMS of its whereabouts to
come fetch it. Now that’s My Street wise Omali!
For details and to place orders contact: