In the middle of a military base outside Mexico City, an army colonel runs what he calls a kindergarten for dogs.
In the middle of a military base outside Mexico City, an army colonel runs what he calls a kindergarten for dogs.
Puppies that one day will become rescue dogs, or sniffer dogs for drugs or explosives, get their basic training here, at Mexico’s Army and Air Force Canine Production Center. The puppies are born and spend their first four months at the facility, before being sent to military units around the country for more specialized training.
Founded in 1998, the center has in the past produced breeds such as German Shepherds and Rottweilers.
Now, it exclusively breeds Belgian Malinois — about 300 of them a year.
“It’s a very intelligent dog, it’s a dog with a lot of hardiness, very resistant to diseases,” said Col. Alejandro Camacho Ibarra, a veterinarian and the center’s director. It is the Mexican military’s only such production facility, and Camacho said it may be the largest in Latin America.
The mainly green-and-white, one-story buildings look like any others at the military camp in the State of Mexico, near Mexico City. But the difference here is in the sounds that fill the air: high-pitch barking from dozens of puppies scattered through its maternities and training camps.
Precautions here are strict because of a recent canine parvovirus outbreak that sickened some of the puppies. Visitors are disinfected with a spray, and must step into a watery solution to clean shoe soles. Only military personnel can touch the puppies. If you want to get close, you need to wear scrubs, shoe protectors and a mask, but you still cannot hold or pet the animals.
The training starts early in life, about a month after birth once the weaning process finishes. And everything is taught as a game.
“We start playing with the dog,” Camacho said. The idea is to draw them to items that trainers call “attractors” — like a ball or a rag — and puppies are challenged to catch them. “Every time it holds his prey, it’s rewarded, congratulated, and it learns to go after that prey, after that attractor,” Camacho added.
Unlike in civilian life, where puppies often get food treats, in the military the only prize for a job well done is a caress and some praise.
In one section of the camp, there’s a trail with obstacles including rocks, a tunnel, a section of empty plastic bottles to clamber over, a ladder and tires.
A soldier beckons the little dogs with a rag they must capture. The brown puppies with black snouts begin running through the trail, jumping over the rocks and crossing the obstacles. One takes the lead and the second struggles to cross over the plastic bottles, but also finishes. Both go to bite the rag the soldier holds.
“Very, very good, sons! Very good, boys,” he repeats while dragging the puppies as they maintain their grasp on the rag for several moments.
Camacho explains that the puppies are known by a number until they are three months old, when they are given a proper name. Each year, the center gives names according to a single letter of the alphabet. In 2023, that letter is “F.”
Febo, Frodo, Fósil, Forraje and Fido are some of this year’s names.
The basic training ends when the puppies are 4 months old. Then, they move to other military units to become specialists in detection of drugs or explosive, in search and rescue or in protection and security.
The current government of Mexico’s President Andrés Manuel López Obrador has relied heavily on the armed forces for various initiatives, from public safety to the building of airports and a tourist train line. And K-9 units have been a key element of some of the military’s activities, like the detection of drugs.
Col. Camacho said that some dogs born at the center have been trained to detect fentanyl, a synthetic opioid trafficked by Mexican cartels that has been blamed for about 70,000 overdose deaths per year in the United States.
That kind of specialized training happens elsewhere, but the colonel says it builds on his center’s basic training by using “attractor” objects but having them impregnated with the scent of what the dogs need to track, such as a drug.
Dogs retire from their military service after eight years, Camacho says.
Many of the dogs have become unsung heroes of missions in Mexico and abroad. Occasionally they become publicly known, like a German Shepherd named Proteo who was part of a rescue team sent in February to Turkey after a 7.8-magnitude earthquake that killed more than 40,000 people.
Proteo died during the search for survivors of the quake. A statue of him now stands at the center.
Another dog that made headlines in Mexico and abroad was a yellow Labrador retriever rescue dog named Frida. The Navy dog gained fame in the days following Mexico’s Sept. 19, 2017, earthquake that left more than 300 dead in the capital. She retired in 2019 and died in 2022.
Col. Camacho said that the dogs have a symbiotic relationship with their handlers during their working life in the military.
“The dog uses us to survive, but we also use the dog to do a job,” he said. “So it’s a coordinated work where we both get a benefit.”
Animal rescue volunteers launch Gaza’s first spay-and-neuter scheme
In the impoverished Gaza Strip, where most people struggle to make ends meet amid a crippling blockade, the suffering of stray dogs and cats often goes unnoticed.
Said el-Er, who founded the territory’s only animal rescue organisation in 2006, has been trying to change that. He and other volunteers rescue dogs and cats that have been struck by cars or abused and nurse them back to health – but there are too many.
So in recent weeks they have launched Gaza’s first spay-and-neuter programme. It goes against taboos in the conservative Palestinian territory, where feral dogs and cats are widely seen as pests and many view spaying and neutering as forbidden by Islam.
“Because the society is Muslim, they talk about halal (allowed) and haram (forbidden),” Mr El-Er said. “We know what halal is and what haram is, and it’s haram (for the animals) to be widespread in the streets where they can be run over, shot or poisoned.”
Islam teaches kindness towards animals, but Muslim scholars are divided on whether spaying and neutering causes harm. Across the Arab world, dogs are widely shunned as unclean and potentially dangerous, and cats do not fare much better.
Mr El-Er and other advocates for the humane treatment of animals face an added challenge in Gaza, which has been under an Israeli and Egyptian blockade since the Islamic militant group Hamas seized power in 2007. Gaza’s two million residents suffer from nearly 50 per cent unemployment, frequent power outages and heavy travel restrictions.
With many struggling to meet basic needs, animal care is seen as a waste of precious resources or a luxury at best. Mr El-Er’s group, Sulala for Animal Care, relies on private donations, which can be hard to come by.
Mr El-Er says his team can no longer keep up with the number of injured animals that they find or that are brought to the clinic. “The large number of daily injuries is beyond our capacity,” he said. “That’s why we resorted to neutering.”
On a recent day, volunteers neutered a street dog and two cats that had been brought in. There are few veterinary clinics and no animal hospitals in Gaza, so they performed the operations in a section of a pet store that had been cleaned and disinfected.
“We have shortages in capabilities, tools, especially those needed for orthopaedic surgeries,” said Bashar Shehada, a local veterinarian. “There is no suitable place for operations.”
Mr El-Er has spent years trying to organise a spay and neutering campaign but met with resistance from local authorities and vets, who said it was forbidden. He eventually secured a fatwa, or religious ruling, stating that it is more humane to spay and neuter animals than to consign an ever-growing population to misery and abuse.
Once the fatwa was issued, Mr El-Er said local authorities did not object to the campaign as a way of promoting public health and safety. The Hamas-run health and agriculture ministries allowed veterinarians to carry out operations and purchase supplies and medicine, he said.
The Gaza City municipality provided land for a shelter earlier this year. Before that, Mr El-Er kept the rescued animals at his home and on two small tracts of land that he leased.
The new shelter currently houses around 200 dogs, many of them blind, bearing scars from abuse or missing limbs from being hit by cars. At least one was adjusting to walking with a prosthetic limb. A separate section holds cats in similar shape.
The group tries to find homes for the animals, but here too it faces both economic and cultural challenges. Very few Gazans would keep a dog as a pet, and there’s little demand for cats. Some people adopt the animals from abroad, sending money for their food and care.
Over the past decade, international animal welfare groups have carried out numerous missions to evacuate anguished animals from makeshift zoos in Gaza and relocate them to sanctuaries in the West Bank, Jordan and Africa.
But there are no similar campaigns for dogs and cats, and Gaza has been sealed off from all but returning residents since March to prevent a coronavirus outbreak.
Mr El-Er’s phone rang recently and the caller said a dog had been hit by a car. Volunteers from Sulala brought it back to the shelter on the back of a three-wheeled motorbike and began treating it. Mr El-Er says they receive around five such calls every day.
Leave a Reply