Post by account_disabled on Mar 7, 2024 9:26:04 GMT 5.5
His owners brought “El Harrys” because they could no longer handle him, they said, and they left him in the men's Social Rehabilitation Center in Saltillo, Coahuila. He came skinny, skinny and had a cut on his left leg. That he had been crushed by a car, his masters said, and that they could leave him here because they were tired of chasing him every time they opened the street door and “El Harrys” came flying out. That they couldn't handle him anymore and if they left him, they asked. Then “El Harrys”, a chocolate Labrador, was eight months old and had an altered ball of hyperactivity, capable of driving anyone crazy. That they left him here, that they didn't want him anymore, his owners said and left. Who knew that three years later “El Harrys”, that chocolate and wandering Labrador, would become one of the most professional elements, a specialist in drug and corpse detection of the Canine Unit of the State Operational Police.
The beginning His story, like that of his fellow dogs, began nine years ago, in the outer courtyards of the men's Social Center ( in Saltillo, Coahuila, when his America Mobile Number List former masters looked, through the prison's cyclone mesh, at a group of men playing with some dogs. If they accepted dogs, which came from donating to “El Harrys” because they no longer wanted him, the puppy's owners and the men said yes, that they should leave him, that they would have him on trial, and “El Harrys” stayed. After a while, more people who had seen those men and their dogs play ball and hurdles came to the penitentiary asking if they could bring their pets because they couldn't handle them anymore. Most of them were purebred dogs like “El Harrys”. “Unfortunately some breeds are beginning to be in demand and fashionable. I always recommend that people when they buy a dog see what the function of their breed is so that they know, more or less, what to expect. “Right now they acquire them, then they see that they are not good dogs to be in a small space and they throw them out on the street or sacrifice them, or give them away later and that's where the problem comes,” says Luis Jaime Flores Moreno, head of Training. of the Penitentiary Canine Unit, one morning at the facilities of the Canine Training Center of the Decentralized Unit for the Execution of Sentences and Social Reintegration of the Government of Coahuila.
The Canine Training Center is like this: two modules of cages, a shed-office, a parking lot where there are several carcasses of vehicles that are used for dog training, and a green area with thick trees and overgrown grass, on a property located inside the male youth residence. Nine years ago, says Luis Jaime, a zootechnical veterinarian and dog trainer by profession, this did not exist. “There were colleagues who were already doing it, but it had not been given shape nor did they have that mission of extending it to the entire state, there was a need to give professionalization and value to the tool that are the canine units.” Luis Jaime is tall, plump, pearly white, has little hair, has a brush-like mustache and likes dogs. His story is similar to that of the former owners of “El Harrys” and that of other families who came to donate their dogs because they no longer wanted them, with the variant that Luis Jaime is a veterinarian and dog trainer: He also went to , he said he had some trained dogs that were no longer useful and he wanted to donate them.
The beginning His story, like that of his fellow dogs, began nine years ago, in the outer courtyards of the men's Social Center ( in Saltillo, Coahuila, when his America Mobile Number List former masters looked, through the prison's cyclone mesh, at a group of men playing with some dogs. If they accepted dogs, which came from donating to “El Harrys” because they no longer wanted him, the puppy's owners and the men said yes, that they should leave him, that they would have him on trial, and “El Harrys” stayed. After a while, more people who had seen those men and their dogs play ball and hurdles came to the penitentiary asking if they could bring their pets because they couldn't handle them anymore. Most of them were purebred dogs like “El Harrys”. “Unfortunately some breeds are beginning to be in demand and fashionable. I always recommend that people when they buy a dog see what the function of their breed is so that they know, more or less, what to expect. “Right now they acquire them, then they see that they are not good dogs to be in a small space and they throw them out on the street or sacrifice them, or give them away later and that's where the problem comes,” says Luis Jaime Flores Moreno, head of Training. of the Penitentiary Canine Unit, one morning at the facilities of the Canine Training Center of the Decentralized Unit for the Execution of Sentences and Social Reintegration of the Government of Coahuila.
The Canine Training Center is like this: two modules of cages, a shed-office, a parking lot where there are several carcasses of vehicles that are used for dog training, and a green area with thick trees and overgrown grass, on a property located inside the male youth residence. Nine years ago, says Luis Jaime, a zootechnical veterinarian and dog trainer by profession, this did not exist. “There were colleagues who were already doing it, but it had not been given shape nor did they have that mission of extending it to the entire state, there was a need to give professionalization and value to the tool that are the canine units.” Luis Jaime is tall, plump, pearly white, has little hair, has a brush-like mustache and likes dogs. His story is similar to that of the former owners of “El Harrys” and that of other families who came to donate their dogs because they no longer wanted them, with the variant that Luis Jaime is a veterinarian and dog trainer: He also went to , he said he had some trained dogs that were no longer useful and he wanted to donate them.