Lacey, Our Very Own Jeffrey Dahmer’s Love Child
Last but by no means least, we’ve got Lace.
Lacey to people who don’t know her well enough to take the piss.
Also known as Jeffrey Dahmer’s love child.
Don’t ask. Just look at her.
Now, this woman has the heart of a fucking lion when it comes to dogs. If you’ve got four paws, bark and have some form of resource guarding issue, she’s interested.
If you’re a human being wanting a nice chat and a bit of emotional support?
Unlucky, mate. Try somebody else.
She’s not being rude. She’s just busy looking at a dog that’s tried to bite three people and thinking, Aww, I love him.
It All Started With a Cockapoo. Obviously.
Lace started out as one of them crazy cockapoo owners who bought her dog a dog.
Yep. You read that right.
Not another dog for herself.
A dog for her dog.
And while we’re here, we may as well introduce you to her children. Because if you think five dogs is a lot, wait till you meet the little shits.
Truffs — The Firstborn
The original child.
A cockapoo, obviously.
Truffs hates anything with four legs that isn’t related to him. He were spoilt absolutely fucking rotten, and it took Lace the best part of a year to sort out the mess she’d made.
She’ll probably tell you that weren’t her fault.
It were.
Sable — The Golden Child
Another cockapoo.
Sable is the dog Lace bought for Truffs.
You know, the dog-reactive dog.
Because apparently the obvious solution to having a dog who doesn’t like other dogs is to go out and buy him one.
Truffs were basically told, This is your brother now. Fucking deal with it.
And somehow, it worked.
They’re inseparable.
I’m not saying it’s a sensible method. I’m just saying Lace got away with it.
Violet — The Radiator Kid from Croydon
Then came Violet.
Now, at one point, Lace joined a Cockerdor Facebook page and started telling us about this crazy little pup who’d been tied to a radiator because she was biting people.
Most normal folk would read that and think, Bloody hell, that sounds like hard work.
Not Lace.
She were practically packing the dog’s bags herself.
A year later, we’re asking whether Violet might be ready for adoption.
“No, she’s not ready.”
Then someone actually applied for her.
Lace promptly hung up the fucking phone and refused to speak to anybody for a days.
So that were that, then.
Violet weren’t going anywhere.
Turns out she weren’t even a Cockerdor. She’s a spaniel–Malinois mix.
Which, quite frankly, explained a fucking lot.
Our little radiator kid from Croydon had found her mum.
And her mum had found yet another reason to ignore the rest of us.
Bandit — The Most Expensive Decorating Trip in History
Next up, Bandit.
Lace went to Nic’s to help decorate.
She came home with dog number four and a bank account a few grand lighter.
How the fuck do you go round somebody’s house to help with decorating and end up adopting a disabled cockapoo?
Only Lace.
And why any of us thought it were a good idea to let her foster not just a cockapoo, but a disabled one, I’ll never know.
He were never leaving.
We knew it.
Nic knew it.
The fucking wallpaper probably knew it.
Lace were the only one pretending otherwise.
Rolo — The Problem Child
Now, when most people hear the words problem child, they think, Oh God, what now?
Lace thinks, Where is he? I’ll fetch him.
She saw an advert for a reactive dog who were at risk of being put to sleep.
And you’ll never guess what breed he were.
Go on.
Have a guess.
A fucking cockapoo.
In walks Rolo. Chocolate. Fluffy. Looks like a teddy bear.
Would happily fuck you up for breathing wrong.
And Lace?
Absolutely smitten.
Because apparently a dog who might rearrange your fingers is exactly what this woman looks for in a companion.
So there we have it. Five dogs.
Truffs, Sable, Violet, Bandit and Rolo.
And I’m sure you’ve noticed a pattern.
IT’S ALWAYS A FUCKING COCKAPOO.
Well, apart from Violet. But she were advertised as a Cockerdor, so I’m counting it.
From Helping With Home Checks to Running Half the Bloody Rescue
What started out as Lace offering to help with a few home checks somehow turned into her becoming a trustee.
And not just any trustee.
She’s the backbone, the brainchild and the mini commander of all things dogs.
She’s spent hours, days, nights and weeks working non-stop behind the scenes.
Building websites.
Pulling dogs into rescue.
Finding placements.
Going through adoption applications with a fine-tooth comb.
And that’s just a few bits of what she does.
All while putting everything she’s got into her own five dogs and the rescue dogs she’s fostered herself.
People see the dogs on our page. They see the updates, the adoptions and the happy photos.
What they don’t always see is Lace sat there at stupid o’clock, still working through something because there’s a dog who needs a placement, an application that needs checking or another job that can’t wait till tomorrow.
She doesn’t just do a bit for CWF.
She lives and breathes the fucking place.
Which is probably why her phone’s permanently going off and she’s got the patience of a wet fart when one of us rings her with yet another problem.
Heart of a Lion. Emotional Range of a Brick.
Now, back to that lion heart.
Because as much as I take the piss out of her, I’ve never met many people who’ll go to the lengths Lace will for a dog.
She doesn’t do emotions.
She hates praise.
Try telling her she’s done something brilliant and she’ll either change the subject, tell you to fuck off or find a dog to hide behind.
But give her a spicy little shit with a few behavioural issues and she’s all in.
Even when that dog has her in tears.
Even when she’s had enough.
Even when she’s shouting, “MARRRR! MAKE ME A BREW!”
Even when the dog in question would quite happily have a go at her.
She’ll keep trying to understand them and work out what they need.
And that’s what I love about her.
She doesn’t just want the easy ones. She’ll stand up for a dog that other people have already written off, while still being honest about the work and responsibility involved.
She’s stubborn as fuck.
Which can be a pain in arse when you’re trying to have a conversation with her.
But when there’s a dog who needs someone in their corner?
It’s exactly what you want.
We Argue Like Sisters. And Then We Argue Some More.
Now, me and Lace don’t always see eye to eye.
Shocking, I know.
Two stubborn cows working in rescue together. What could possibly go wrong?
We’ve had silly misunderstandings, she’s had a go at me, I’ve had a go at her, and we’ve ended up not speaking for a week.
This is where Nic usually has to step in and bang our heads together.
one of us has to ring the other day sorry under nics watchful eye and it’s back to being about a dog, and that’s that.
Back to business.
Because here’s the thing about Lace.
We can be arguing like fuck, but she’ll still have my back in a room I’m not in.
And I’ll have hers.
That’s what matters.
We don’t have to agree on everything. We don’t have to pretend we never fall out.
We’re a team, and when it comes down to it, we’re there for each other.
Even if one of us is a moody southern cow who collects cockapoos like they’re Pokémon.
Right, I’ve Been Nice Enough Now
Anyway, I’ve been far too fucking nice here, so I’m going to wrap this up before Lace gets a big head.
Lace, you’re a bloody credit to CWF.
You put so much into this rescue, and I know you don’t want the praise, but you’re getting it anyway. Tough shit.
You’ve built so much of what people see when they find us, and you do an awful lot that they’ll never see.
You’ve given dogs a chance when their options were running out. You’ve put the work into your own lot, taken on rescue dogs who needed you and kept things moving behind the scenes when the rest of us have been running round like headless chickens.
And even when we argue like sisters, I wouldn’t swap you.
Well. Depends what you’re offering.
But seriously, you’re a pretty cool dog mum, and we’re lucky to have you.
Love you, Lace.
Now go give your five children a kiss, tell Rolo not to bite anybody and try not to adopt another fucking cockapoo before teatime