Written by Dido Blagden
Professional photography Vanessa Bentley Photography
Kopi was his original isiXhosa name. He was a three-year-old matted Rastafarian pipe cleaner with a vicious disposition, living in a squatter camp until the intrepid superhero, Helga Tsoumbris, of Mama Kasi Rural Rescue arrived and took pity on him.
There were four other dogs on the property: a three-month-old, a seven-month-old and a mommy dog who’d recently had 11 pups, three of which Mama Kasi found dead (smothered by their mom because they were all crammed into a tiny kennel).
Kopi was surrendered, clipped and snipped – the dreadlocks and matting gone, along with his nuts (including the undescended one). He was spoilt at the vets and Mama Kasi visited daily for an hour to give him treats and fun, a release from his cage.
Sadly, despite losing his matted hair, he was still behaving like Samson – he was reactive and seemed to have a particular aversion to white men.
Unexpectedly, a seemingly perfect home for Kopi came up in a beautiful upmarket estate in Cape Town. He was renamed Stevie, and it seemed he’d be landing his butt in the butter. He flew there but after a weekend was deported back to Jo’burg. Mama Kasi was devastated and at her wits’ end.
Stevie (formerly known as Kopi) then became a terrifying terrorist and had the vets doing somersaults over the reception desk to avoid his vicious attacks. The final straw was when he attacked Mama Kasi herself during a game. She’d gone where angels fear to tread and had been to hell and back trying to tame his demons, but it seemed he was too big a liability to home responsibly and he couldn’t live out his days as a ward of the vets (to whom he showed no gratitude or respect either).
That was when I stepped up. Initially, I said I’d offer him a rehab – a foster home for three months. I’d already homed two Mama Kasi woofles, Biscuit (Squitty), who’d died of a turbo cancer far too soon, and then Poppy (as featured in a previous edition of Happy Tails https://www.happytailsmagazine.co.za/happy-tales/poppy/)… Being home a lot and having had quite a bit of experience teaching my previous rescues about boundaries and space, and empowering them to learn that the sense of safety and security is more a state of being than something one has to fight tooth and nail for, I became his last chance and lifeline!
When I arrived at the vet with my friend to collect him, I was assailed by the stories of this little terrorist… warned about his out-of-control vicious attacks, and not to touch his food or treats or toys, and to run for cover the moment I see the whites of his eyes. I wondered how he got the name Stevie (Steve Austen, die man van Staal?) rather than Achmed (Jeff Dunham’s infamous dead terrorist puppet).
Having been warned, I put him in a crate and we loaded him into the car. At home we cautiously released him from the crate (with a silent little prayer), but the meet-and-greet with my other five dogs was perfect. It was as if they were all expecting him, and he acted like he’d arrived home! I almost immediately decided to change his name to Schatzie (which means “skattie” in German, and was a term of endearment that the late, great CLAW vet Saskia frequently used for any being in need of her care and TLC).
It was bizarre, because it seemed Schatzie had been exorcised and left any demons and issues behind. I treated him with wariness very briefly but it clearly wasn’t necessary. He followed me wherever I went (often at my heel, pushing one of his toys into my ankle with each step), and when I wasn’t going he was pretty insistent about being on my lap. I found it wasn’t his space I had to respect, but I’d need to teach him to respect mine!
I couldn’t reconcile the warnings and labels that I’d been given about this little fur baby. Yes, he’s feisty, but not fearsome, and he seemed very predictable, with tons of pawsonality and chutzpah. He and Poppy, being of similar age, became fast BFFs (best furry friends), which honestly suits the rest of us. He was perfect with food at mealtimes, got his bowl served with everyone else, ate until he was full or food was done, and when he walked away had no issue with me removing (or one of the others licking out) his plate. He’d also respect their space, and if someone else left their food he’d then politely approach the bowl to clean any remnants too. The only minor issue has been a bit of “marking” inside and yapping at the gate (it’s a busy road of dog walkers). But hey, marking and barking is a breeze compared with biting and fighting! The marking is also now a thing of the past and he responds quickly when I call him away from the gate – he’s a smart cookie and responds well to praise!
He knows he’s home and we feel he is at home: “Mi casa, es su casa”, and I’m blessed as yet another furry guardian angel takes roost under my rafters. Schatzie lives up to his new name: he’s a treasure! He’s claimed my lap and stolen my heart. Blessed Be!
If you’d like to help Mama Kasi continue to do the good she does (by assisting her pay vet bills), your donations are gratefully appreciated!
MULDERSDRIFT VET
ABSA
4085387524
Ref: Mama Kasi (Schatzie)
Send proof of payment to: 0823338431
