Pet project saving dogs in China

CHENGDU, China — The white short-haired mutt was found dragging his crushed hind legs through rubble-clogged streets after the massive earthquake devastated China's Sichuan province.

The shy terrier mix was lucky to live through the May 12 quake that killed nearly 70,000 people. He was even more fortunate to survive the squads of police and soldiers who were gunning down homeless canines for fear they would spread disease in the disaster's aftermath.

But his luckiest day was when he was picked up by Chen Yunlian.

Now he's among some 100 "quake dogs" rescued by the former businesswoman, who has created something extremely rare in China: a private animal shelter.

For 11 years, the 60-year-old Chen has been rescuing strays off the streets. She now cares for about 900 dogs and 100 cats in her shelter built among rice paddies on the southern outskirts of Chengdu, the provincial capital.

"I think that dogs and humans have the same right to live. They're equals," she told The Associated Press as a brown brindle hound missing a front leg jumped up on her and snuggled his snout in her lap.

Chen's views about animal rights are radical in a country where dogs can just as easily be a pet or the main ingredient in a spicy hotpot. Although dog ownership has grown in popularity as the Chinese become wealthier, many people don't have the strong emotional attachment to the animals that's common in the West.

Chen is also on the vanguard of a new movement in China of citizens who start their own groups to deal with social problems that were once mostly handled — or ignored — by the Communist Party-led state.

The government and party — wary about anything that might challenge its monopoly on power — is still trying to figure out how much of a role it wants people like Chen to play.

She was reluctant to discuss the matter. "I love my country and government. I want it to become even stronger and more prosperous," said the soft-spoken woman, dressed in a baggy white T-shirt and black pajama-like pants with white polka dots.

Chen calls her shelter "Ai Zhi Jia" or the "House of Love." A tall metal fence surrounds the facility off a narrow tree-lined road about a 45-minute drive from downtown Chengdu. From the street, a cacophony of yelps, barks, growls, whimpers and whines can be heard. The air is filled with the smell of dry dog food, fur and the faint scent of urine and feces that's constantly being scooped up by a staff of eight.