This is part II of my 3-month journey in Sri Lanka, as a volunteer for WECare Worldwide.
I started my volunteering journey in Sri Lanka, joining WECare’s mobile CNVR (catch-neuter-vaccinate-return) clinic as a Recovery Pen Assistant. My role, while straightforward, was crucial in the process. The veterinary team handled the most critical aspects: spaying or neutering, administering rabies vaccines, and tipping ears. Then, the dogs would enter my domain.
In the recovery pen, dogs typically spent their first 20-30 minutes unconscious, recovering from anesthesia. During this time, I’d photograph them, double-check data records, and ensure their microchip was functioning. Time permitting, I’d inspect for ticks, focusing particularly on their ears and faces. As the dogs regained consciousness and resumed breathing independently, I’d remove their breathing tubes and IV lines. Once they could stand and walk steadily, they were mostly ready to return to their territories.
For a perfectionist like me, this role proved surprisingly satisfying. As the final checkpoint, I ensured not only the dogs were fit to leave after a long day, but we also collected all necessary data before their departure. While I couldn’t guarantee every dog left in peak condition, I could at least ensure they departed in better shape than when they arrived.
On my first day, I toured the CNVR lorry. Despite my untrained eye, the vehicle’s interior looked every bit like a Western veterinary clinic in every respect. This monstrous cargo truck, first deployed in October 2023, housed four operation beds and an array of top-tier, always humming-and-blinking equipment. “We can even administer gaseous anesthesia,” our CNVR manager proudly said, emphasizing its safety advantage over the injectable forms still commonly used elsewhere.
While I couldn’t name or explain most of the equipment, I sensed the medical staff’s excitement at having such advanced tools at their disposal. The lorry undergoes daily cleaning, with a weekly deep-clean scheduled. Outside, the team diligently prepared kits, disinfecting tables and tools daily. My recovery pen was also flushed out each evening. The truck seemed to embody the charity’s ethos – a reflection of the founder’s commitment to providing street animals with the highest standard of veterinary care, without compromise.
However, working in Sri Lanka meant accepting and navigating imperfections. When you are in a remote fishing village, it wasn’t just about forgoing minor inconveniences, such as my morning coffee.
In my first week, we set up at “Jurassic Park,” our lorry parking lot. Usually mobile, the rainy season had rendered alternative grounds to be too wet for the lorry to set up at. (Later experiences would make me appreciate this initial location. Weeks later, I’d be wading through water in the recovery pen, prompting another volunteer to ask if I was risking trench foot.)
The necessity for compromise extended into animal care, often in ways that challenged our ideals. Anesthesia gas, a staple in Western veterinary practices, was unavailable in Sri Lanka. This scarcity forced our team to carefully ration their limited supply, impacting our efficiency and sometimes resulting in dogs waking more abruptly than usual. While most of our canine patients arrived in manageable condition, we consistently encountered three or four dogs each day severely afflicted by fleas and ticks. Our aspiration to maintain Western standards of care collided with economic realities. Bravecto tablets, each costing a hefty £20, could only be allocated to the most severe cases. Similarly, Frontline, priced at £23 for a modest three-pipette pack, was a precious commodity.
In charity work, everything is limited: money, medicine, and time. The medical professionals – trained to be meticulous – constantly balanced decisions on treatments. This scarcity isn’t unique to Sri Lanka; I’d seen similar challenges at a shelter in Korea where I previously volunteered.
To combat these shortages, WECare appeals for donations of excess or expired medication. Operating outside the UK allows them to use these medicines, knowing most remain safe and effective.
The recovery pen, far from a flawless operation, presented daily challenges. My very first day set the tone when a dog choked on its breathing tube, necessitating an urgent rescue intervention. Dogs sometimes escaped – occasionally my fault, other times due to their ingenuity in jumping fences or pushing gates open. The confined space occasionally reignited street rivalries, with skirmishes breaking out in extreme cases.
Sri Lanka’s unreliable power grid added another layer of complexity. While a generator sustained crucial surgical operations, its thunderous noise and diesel fumes often agitated the recovering dogs, rousing them prematurely. During outages, the fans stood still, transforming the recovery pen into a stifling sauna.
Even my time became a scarce resource. As the sole recovery pen attendant, I learned to process dogs efficiently, often sacrificing the luxury of thorough tick removal for the basics of ensuring painless, efficient recovery.
With the first mobile clinic in full operation, the organization has an ambitious goal is to reach 500-600 weekly with an additional lorry. However, when faced with Sri Lanka’s staggering estimate of 2 million street dogs, even this impressive pace would require over five centuries to address the entire population.
Research indicates that CNVR efforts must reach a critical intensity to be effective; otherwise, unsterilized dogs may rapidly fill the population gap with new litters. This reality is particularly daunting for a perfectionist like myself, who craves a clear path to the end goal.
Yet, this experience has taught me the art of doing one’s best within constraints, and to find satisfaction in steady progress rather than instant perfection. I’ve learned that WECare, while not the complete solution to dog overpopulation, is an integral part of a larger effort. Each day’s work — those 25 dogs, many receiving their first veterinary care — still represents a significant and worthwhile achievement. In the realm of animal welfare in developing countries, every small victory counts, and the journey itself is as important as the destination.
This is part II of my 3-month journey in Sri Lanka, as a volunteer for WECare Worldwide.