Chapter 4. Louise Clark, a right pain in the derriere!

I received a phone call the other day from someone at Whittingham Kennels, who shall remain anonymous. They left a message on my answerphone with information that all is not well at the kennels, I didn’t reply because sure as eggs are eggs, it’s going to get worse, so I will only watch from the side-lines as this once happy rescue turns into a den of iniquity. I will comment every now and then, which is my wont, but get involved? No!

One of the things that really irk my ire is hypocrites who never seem to grasp the fact they are hypocrites. I write this in deference to all those who keep cats as it’s a personal choice, which I don’t agree with, but tolerate, just.

On Clarks Facebook page, she has a long list of save this animal and save that animal, it’s really quite an impressive list of animals she would like to save. Admirable I suppose, until you are aware that she keeps cats that go out slaughtering small birds and animals without the Clark’s turning a hair and deciding this carnage must stop and they should cease keeping cats. I think it’s a case of not doing what I do, but do as I say. Yeah! Right!

There have been a couple of things which have happened at Whittingham that have put the Clarks in a very good light, which Louise Clark was quick to exploit to cement herself into the very good books of Johanna Beumer. The kennel’s roof needed replacing and a bore hole needed to be dug to give the rescue a reliable source of water. The Clark’s lent/gave the money to Whittingham so these jobs could be expedited before the RGT came up with the money to clear their debt.  Johanna is no fool; she was not going upset the Clark’s when they were going to put their hands in their pockets to quickly to come up with the cash whenever she needed a little financial help. I think that is what’s called holding a tiger by the tail.

Johanna Beumer owns the kennels and rescue, but it’s a kick in the teeth for the people who really care for the hounds and see what’s happening. I dread the winter, as I know there are greyhounds up there colder than brass monkeys. A very cold draughty kennel and greyhounds without coats, it’s a bloody travesty. Will it ever change? Well I hope so, but I’m not holding my breath..