Days at the Pound

So today I got to play cowgirl. Well, not literally, but you try giving dewormer to a 150 pound Mastiff/Shepherd mix that doesn't want it and tell me that's not a rodeo. At least I had help. I restrained the dogs, and I had someone else administer the Pyrantel. Which means I'm the one that gets bashed into walls and beat up when the dog decides to not cooperate. But it also means that the other person is safe from being injured because I'm good at what I do because this was part of my training. The dog warden's office I volunteer at is seriously understaffed (like many) and since I have so much experience with canines as well as medical experience, I donate my time to help out the poor girl who's the kennel manager and does everything herself.

I became friends with the kennel manager the day I pulled my first fosters from this particular pound. They were Pits and scheduled to be euthed and she helped me get them out. I realized her desperate need for someone to help, and began going up there. Over the last eight months we've developed a wonderful friendship based on our love for these dogs and our compassion for their situation. She's one of the most wonderful people I've ever met in my life, and I'm so blessed to have her as a friend.

Some of the dogs up there are so pathetic, and their situations are not unique. There's a Chocolate Lab named Nellie that was abandoned there by her owners. They wanted her put down because she has a severe food allergy to corn and wheat that has caused almost 70% of her hair to fall out and her to skin to become inflamed and itchy. All she needed was a grain-free food and medicated shampoos to help her skin clear up and stay that way. They just didn't want to deal with it. So now she sits in her run, waiting for her mommy to come back and get her and take her home. Of course that won't happen and the kennel manager won't put her down unless she's told she has to. Unfortunately, the pound is full, bordering on over-crowded. We had three more dogs come in today and four yesterday. We have forty dogs right now in that place, so the ones that are less adoptable, like Nellie, are more likely to not have much time left.

Really, to save lives, three things need to happen:
1) People need to be made aware of the situation in pounds and shelters. They need to know that "no kill" is still inhumane because the dogs go "cage crazy" and are literally insane after years of confinment to a small run. They need to be made aware of what happens in a gas chamber, of what heartsticking is, and how horrible the lethal injection can be for some dogs. They need to know how these guys suffer every day and we just try to lessen it.

2) People need to start having their animals sexually altered and not letting them breed unless they are running a high-end breeding and showing operation for the betterment of the breed. If this were to happen, and I mean EVERY person was to have their pet spayed or neutered, shelters would be out of business in twenty years. God, I live for that day.

3) We need foster homes for dogs and cats. Instead of buying, why not take on a foster? You can do short-term (a few weeks to a few months) or long-term (until they find a home). You get the enjoyment of knowing that you're saving lives, making a huge difference, THE difference, not just to one animal, but to many. Of course, letting them go is hard, but it opens up the door to save another. It's a beautiful gift of yourself to these poor guys that so desperately need it.

The solution is simple. People just need to care, to be made aware of the harsh reality that those of us who work in shelters experience constantly. We have nightmares, we pray, we cry our eyes out. And they follow us to the back room, wagging their tails, because they trust us that everything will be ok.