Protecting the Children? Seriously?

I got to the shelter early today - it was about 10 minutes to 7:00. No, I'm not a workaholic. Although I am indeed a morning person, I am usually home-based until 9:00. But today I had a morning appearance on WCFN, so I had to get to the shelter, select an animal to bring, and then get across town to the station in time for the live segment at 7:37.

I went into my office to fire up my computer and let the weekend emails pour in while I was gone. I hadn't been there a minute, when I noticed through the window that a woman had pulled into the parking lot. She was already out of her car and walking around with a little dog (looked like a Lhasa Apso to me, but I'm not too good at identifying the little breeds) on leash. She obviously had realized that I was in the building, came to the staff entrance near my office window, and knocked on the door. I checked my watch and wished I could pretend I wasn't there. But I didn't.

At the door, she said they (I assume she was referring to herself and her husband) got the dog from an elderly woman who could no longer keep him. They had thought he would be a companion for their dog, but the two dogs weren't getting along. I explained that we weren't open yet (as if she didn't know that, at 7 in the morning), and asked her to please return later. I explained that I had to leave shortly and that by 8:00 some staff members would be available to do a proper intake, take down pertinent information, examine the dog, etc. She resisted. And resisted. She assured me that she would come back after 8:00 to do the paperwork and provide the dog's vet records, but she really wanted me to take the dog. She said she could not bring him back later. She indicated that this had something to do with her children. She was not entirely coherent, but I realized later that she wanted to off-load the dog while the children were still asleep and planned to tell them that he had gone to live with a family where he would be the only dog. I wasn't really listening when she explained this; I just wanted her to agree to come back later. Why did I care what she told her children? I had someplace to be. And I had to be on time! I wanted the conversation to end. But when she told me that she had planned to leave him tied out in front of the building, I took hold of the leash. I didn't say anything after that; I was done.

Lucky for me, Dr. Stone arrived at about that time, and took care of the dog so that I could round up a kitten and head over to WCFN.

As you probably guessed, the woman never returned to do the paperwork. Our staff brought the dog over to Animal Control because he was not surrendered to us, he was abandoned. I didn't even have the owner's name, let alone her signature on a relinquishment form.

Naturally, as I drove across town (with Peanut, the adorable gray kitten), I thought of all the choicey things I should have said to the woman. I'm very good at caustic retorts when the moment has passed and I've had a few minutes to pull myself together. But it was too late, and probably for the best anyway. No use engaging in hostilities with someone whose mind is made up. Besides, I haven't walked a mile in her shoes. How do I know what was really going on?

As I put the pieces together though, and realized that this whole thing was about protecting the children from the experience of surrendering the dog, I got pretty annoyed. I'll admit right off the bat that I'm not a parent, so perhaps I don't know what I'm talking about. But why is it better to steal the dog away while the children sleep and tell them a lie, than to allow them the opportunity to say a proper good-bye to the dog and explain why surrendering him to a humane facility was the right decision for both the dog and the family? I don't get it.

She robbed her children of closure, as well as the opportunity to learn lessons about consequences and taking responsibility. Instead, her children will learn nothing. Except maybe that sometimes things you love disappear in the middle of the night. Good job, mom.

Our Best Efforts Aren't Always Good Enough

This is Whoopi. She is a German Wirehaired Pointer (mix), somewhere between 18 months and 2 years old. At this moment, I have my fingers crossed for Whoopi because she is scheduled to have a dog-dog introduction today with her potential new family's Boxer. I'm on pins and needles.

Whoopi has been with us a long time and we would really like to see her go home! She has been at the shelter since March 23rd. That's 15 weeks -- about 12 weeks longer than an average stay for a dog at our shelter. It's not that we mind having Whoopi around, but when a dog is with us this long we start to get a little anxious.

We have some pretty good ideas as to why Whoopi is taking a little longer than other dogs to place. For one thing, it's not uncommon for dark-hued dogs to stay longer at animal shelters than others. In addition, Whoopi is a medium-large, adolescent dog with a lot of energy. How many people you know want to take that on? German Wirehaired Pointers aren't as popular as say, Golden Retrievers, either. The good news is that Whoopi came to us with some training under her belt and we know she has it in her to be a very good girl, in the right home.

But let's get back to the "dog-dog introduction" for a moment. We require all dog adopters to bring any already existing dog family members to the shelter to meet their potential new "sibling" prior to finalizing the adoption. This is a pretty important step in the adoption process. The following story illustrates the point . . . sort of.

Week before last, a very nice dog was returned to the shelter, after about a week in his new home, with multiple -- and I mean MULTIPLE bite wounds on his face, head, and front legs. The incident had occurred on about the third day after the adoption. One of the resident dogs had attacked the new dog. The new dog did not fight back. The adopter's veterinarian put drains in a couple places on the injured dog's face/head and sutured a wound at the base of one ear. The adopters kept him for a few more days before realizing that the adoption would not work, and returning him to us.

By the day after his return, our veterinarian was able to remove the drains and we sent the dog into foster care with a very caring and responsible volunteer. On that day, we let the dog hang-out in the administrative office until his foster mom could pick him up. He still looked a mess, and was a little sensitive about having his head touched, but otherwise he was happy and affectionate. He is a really sweet dog.

So, you're probably wondering, as I was, what the heck happened?

No one on staff had any reservations about these adopters. They brought their dog in for a dog-dog introduction and it went fine. The staff told me that the adopters were devastated when they returned the injured dog to us; they were in tears. But, here's the twist. The dog that came in for the introduction was not the dog that inflicted the damage on the new dog. They had lied on their application about a second dog at home--they indicated that this second dog was deceased.

In the interest of full disclosure, I have to admit that they had obtained this dog, the aggressor dog, from us some years ago. That's why they didn't leave him off the application altogether; they knew we would have records of that adoption. Whether the dog had "issues" from the time of adoption or they developed later, I don't know.

It's more than frustrating when this kind of thing happens. All of our adoption requirements are designed to (1) minimize the likelihood of harm coming to our animals and (2) maximize the likelihood of a succesful permanent adoption. Yet we failed to protect this dog from harm and his adoption failed miserably. Not much we can do when people are dishonest.

We're frequently criticized for making people "jump through hoops" to adopt a dog. How do you think the polygraph requirement is going to go over?*

*This is a facetious statement. Please do not alert the media.