Showing posts with label homeless pets. Show all posts
Showing posts with label homeless pets. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

The Short-Lived Victory Dance

We had a grand total of 43 minutes to celebrate after Jack's new family told us they wanted to adopt him.  In those 43 minutes, we danced, we laughed, and we cried. We spent nearly two months working with a dog who, by all accounts, was as good as dead, and matched him up with the absolutely perfect family who will treat him like a king for life. We felt so accomplished—so proud of the partnership between the rescue, ourselves, the family, and Jack.

Then we got an email with the subject line, "Your Next Foster." It began with the qualifier, "only if you say yes." This email was a disheartening reminder—there are millions of Jacks out there. 

But for us, it's one dog at a time. It's one "yes" at a time. And how couldn't we say yes to this face?

Meet Sable. She was found on the side of a road, pregnant, with a broken pelvis after being hit by a car. When a shelter in West Virginia wanted to put her to sleep, a vet stepped in and took Sable into her own home. Once there, Sable gave birth to 6 pups, only one of whom survived. That one pup has since been adopted out; now it's Sable's turn. She's scheduled to join us on Saturday night.

In the mean time, we have a few days off from life with a dog. That means an extra 30 minutes of sleep in the morning, five fewer walks in the freezing cold, and one quiet and lonely household.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

The Underworld

Beneath the world of pampered pets live millions of unfortunate dogs—in shelters, in alleyways, and worse. I’ve come to call it “the underworld.” They'll know nothing this season of photos with "Santa Paws" or over-sized stockings stuffed with rawhide bones. I’ve been grappling with the sheer number of dogs who live far, far away from the well cared for pets that we meet in people’s home and see walking down the street.

It has been my most depressing revelation thus far.

The Humane Society of the United States estimates that 6-8 million cats and dogs enter shelters each year. While about half of these animals are adopted, the other 3 to 4 million are euthanized. Even on the low end of that spectrum, 8,219 cats and dogs are put down every day, and their only crime was being born. Black dogs and breeds like pit bulls have disproportionately high euthanasia rates because of the unfair stereotypes placed on them as aggressive dogs.

It’s especially a problem in the American South. Because of economic conditions, many dog owners do not spay/neuter their pets. As one volunteer told me, many families have to choose between putting food on the table and fixing their dogs.

There is the potential for one female dog and her young to produce 67,000 dogs over a six-year period. The offspring often end up in local shelters where adoption rates are very low because people cannot afford the cost of pet ownership. These shelters are brimming with dogs that might be highly adoptable in other parts of the country. Instead, the dogs are sentenced to death to make room for more dogs coming in.

State laws regulate euthanasia. Some states require a dose of sodium pentobarbital—the same injection that a caring veterinarian would administer to the family pet whose suffering can no longer be justified. The animal dies a quick and humane death. However, for many shelters with little funding, it’s an expensive "option."

In states that allow for other means of euthanasia, some animals are put down using carbon monoxide. That’s the politically-correct way of saying “gas chamber." It’s as bad as it sounds—ten times over.

Where does this take me? It takes me to a black-and-white collie mix named Jack who won the proverbial West-Virginia doggie lottery this week. He was set to be euthanized on Tuesday. But when shelter volunteers pleaded for help, the organization we’re fostering with decided to rescue him. He’ll be part of the transport up to New Jersey this week. In doing so, he'll cross the border from dog of the underworld to pampered pet. When he arrives late Saturday night, we’ll have a cozy bed and a nutritious meal waiting for him in our home.

Yes, he’s only one dog, and yes, 8,218 other cats and dogs were likely euthanized that day. But to the future family who adopts Jack, that one dog will mean all the world.