Rescue Me
As a small number of shelters across the country adopt a "no-kill" policy, refusing to euthanize homeless animals, one of Boston's best-known shelters isn't interested in joining the movement. One emotional day inside reveals why.
Approaching the Animal Rescue League of Boston's facility at 10 Chandler Street, I brace myself for what I've come to expect in my volunteer work: an array of confused, sad, scared, caged animals awaiting uncertain fates.
It doesn’t help that the building is dingy and institutional, that the late-September day is overcast, and that I am already weighed down with worry over my own beloved mutt, rescued from the streets of Puerto Rico seven years ago and now suffering from congestive heart failure. More a family member than simply a pet, Rico was clearly given an amazing second chance, but there hasn’t been a moment that he didn’t return the favor in spades. Each of the animals I would meet this day would probably do the same for some person if given the opportunity.
There are two main rooms inside the adoption center, separated by a glass partition, that seem barely able to contain the amount of activity taking place. Volunteer Jessica Hekman has just arrived to pick up and foster a 3-week-old kitten named Faith who had been abandoned. A family has come to take home Bailey, a feisty 11-month-old Pomeranian. He’s their first dog, and one of the three young sons has already whipped Bailey into a playtime frenzy with a toy.
Near the main desk, a couple of cages are on prominent display. I learn later that this location is meant to maximize exposure for hard-to-place animals. At the moment, the cages are occupied by two felines, Tara, about 7, and Speedy, about 6, who have been at the shelter since March and May, respectively. Next to the cats is a two-story cage that is home to Godzilla, an iguana about 5 years old that someone purchased from a pet store, apparently without realizing that the tiny lizard would grow to be 4 feet long (he’s 2 ½ feet now) and put a damper on apartment living. So Godzilla was surrendered in June and hasn’t attracted any serious interest since, even though people are instinctively drawn to his cage, where he basks under a light. Later, I’ll see Godzilla out of his cage, resting on the shoulder of volunteer Keri Nixon, and marvel at the way he closes his eyes when he’s getting a good scratch or inclines his head to indicate where he’d most like to be stroked. "Godzilla" is obviously a misnomer.
On this rainy Saturday at Boston’s first permanent animal shelter, founded in 1899, there are about 30 cats, six dogs, two ferrets, seven rabbits, four guinea pigs, and four rats available for adoption. Another 60 cats, 10 dogs, and 10 small animals – including a turtle and two birds – are working their way through the evaluation process and will be deemed adoptable or, in the worst case, euthanized.
Some shelters across the country are joining a small but growing movement toward a "no-kill" nation, in which no healthy or treatable animal would be euthanized simply because it didn’t have a home. But no-kill shelters often adhere to this mandate by being very picky about which animals they take in. The Animal Rescue League of Boston, which accepts any comer, has not signed on. The nonprofit group – which, in addition to its South End facility, has branches in Brewster, Dedham, and Pembroke – is concentrating on rehabilitating the sickest animals, preventing the birth of new ones, and improving the relationship between humans and animals. With its first new president in 28 years, the rescue league is also trying some novel projects, one of which might include building condos for pet-friendly owners above its animal shelter in the South End. All this ambition made me hopeful that I wouldn’t encounter the pitiful caged animals I’d seen so many times before. But will every animal I meet today really be able to find a home?
In the shelter’s second main room, I see cats, ferrets, rats, rabbits, and guinea pigs in cages along the walls and people milling around. The middle of this small space is divided into caged visiting areas, where prospective adopters can get to know an animal. In one of the visiting areas, a woman plays with Zoey, a 3-month-old cat. (The dogs are kenneled in yet another location behind this space, and their muffled barks punctuate the constant buzz in the main rooms.)
Zoey is one of about 30 felines up for adoption today – many of them adults and therefore less attractive to most potential owners. There’s Max, a gorgeous 3-year-old longhaired gray cat who has already been returned twice because he was too playful; he liked to stalk and then pounce on his previous feline housemates. There’s Batman, about 1, who was given up after his owner’s home burned down. And there’s Speedy, the 6-year-old in the cage at the main desk who was surrendered because he didn’t get along with the other cat in the house. Speedy developed what could have been a food allergy that caused him to lick himself bald, so a shelter employee fostered him for several weeks in hopes that a change of scenery, not to mention a new diet, would do the trick. They did. Speedy’s fur grew back, and he returned to the shelter in late August, but he is still waiting for someone to recognize his special charms.
Though the ARL does practice euthanasia, Marianne Gasbarro, manager of the league’s Boston Animal Care & Adoption Center, tells me that it is typically performed only on animals that are too sick or whose behavior is so poor they’re a danger to themselves, other animals, or humans. She assures me that none of the cats here this day will be put down because of a lack of space. Last year, the rescue league euthanized 2,651 cats, 723 dogs, and 772 other animals. The push to have only no-kill shelters in the country is admirable – but the truth is that there is still too much animal overpopulation for it to be a reality, and keeping an animal warehoused for years gives it no kind of life. The 9.6 million animals estimated by the American Humane Association to be euthanized annually in the United States underscore the greater need to keep so many from being born in the first place.
At least when it comes to dogs, the message has gotten through here. Today the shelter has only six canines technically available for adoption, and every one has been spoken for and is waiting to be picked up. These low numbers reflect the situation across much of New England, where successful spay and neuter campaigns have effectively solved the problem of dog overpopulation. The rescue league’s own Spay Waggin’, a mobile surgery clinic that reaches people with limited financial means in about a dozen cities and towns, has performed more than 11,500 cat and dog sterilizations in the past six years.
Unlike many other suburban Boston shelters that have responded to the dearth of locally surrendered dogs by accepting dogs from rescue organizations in the Southeast, Midwest, and Puerto Rico, where overpopulation is still a staggering problem, the ARL has chosen to put its resources into helping animals with severe but treatable medical and behavioral problems. (My dog Rico came from the Northeast Animal Shelter in Salem through the Puerto Rico-based Save a Sato program, for which I volunteer.) But that choice often means that few dogs are available.
One of the six dogs today didn’t even make it to open adoption. Shu-Shu, a Shih Tzu about 6 years old who was surrendered because his owners were moving, was reserved through a wish-list program that allows prospective adopters to be preapproved for certain breeds and get first dibs when such an animal arrives at the shelter. "It’s our way of encouraging people who are looking for a purebred to still rescue," says Gasbarro.
One breed that isn’t on many wish lists is pit bulls. The rescue league typically has one or two pits at each branch – which is actually a low number, according to Kim Intino, director of animal sheltering issues for the Humane Society of the United States, who says that shelters throughout the South and in inner cities are typically overflowing with this often abused and misunderstood breed. The two pits today, Brinks, about 10 months old, and Jelly Roll, about 5 months, had been living together in filthy conditions when ARL law enforcement officers persuaded their owner to surrender them. Brinks is already spoken for, but Jelly Roll won’t go up for adoption until he has recovered from kennel cough.
Hidden from the public today are the 80 animals yet to be evaluated. The Animal Rescue League’s director of the Center for Behavior and Training, veterinarian Amy Marder, has developed a method to assess shelter-dog behavior that is also used by the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals in New York City and eight shelters in Australia. Now Marder is evaluating Jake, a 5-year-old black Lab mix who was surrendered with his best friend, Jack, a 1-year-old gray cat, when their owner went to jail. Regular viewers of Animal Planet would quickly recognize this drill, which includes tests such as touching the dog almost roughly on his ears and face, playing tug of war with him, and poking a plastic hand into his food bowl while he’s eating. The way the dog responds – his tale movement, head position, excitement level, vocal expression – is all noted.
When I ask if Jake has "passed," I am quickly corrected. "It’s not pass/fail," says Gasbarro. "The only thing black or white is the dog." Instead, the results are used to make the best possible match. Jake, for instance, could go to any home, including one with children. But, Picasso, a Catahoula leopard dog about 2 years old that the shelter took in as a victim of Hurricane Katrina, will need an experienced dog owner who can give him the strong hand he needs, along with plenty of exercise.
The ARL doesn’t just want to make the right match; it wants to support that match for the long term. That means helping the new owner bond with the new pet. "The only difference between a shelter dog and an owned dog is a human being who cares," Marder says. "Shelter animals aren’t as fortunate, because their owners didn’t develop as strong an attachment to them for cultural, economic, or other reasons." The rescue league offers canine obedience courses to new adopters at discounted rates in hopes that person and pet will bond. This approach seems to be working: The number of returned dogs fell from 11.6 percent in 2000 to 9.7 percent last year.
In today’s Good Manners II course at the shelter, Wally, an 8-year-old sheltie, is doing tight turns around owner Kerry Weiss-Pena and then sitting with a flourish. Weiss-Pena and husband Gustavo Pena live nearby and fell in love with Wally when he was being walked by a volunteer last year. After adopting him, they took him to an obedience class, and the dog responded so positively he’s back for his third. "Basically, you start learning about your dog’s personality and abilities and about your abilities and how to manage that relationship," says Pena. "The things that he learns bring us closer together."
Still waiting to make a special connection are the first "graduates" of the CeCe Fund. Started earlier in the year by Marder in memory of her Australian terrier, the program provides medical care to animals with severe but treatable health and behavioral problems that ARL might not otherwise be able to help. There is Pooki, a 6-year-old cocker spaniel whose ears became so infected that he had to have both ear canals removed in separate procedures, with painful recoveries. Pooki distinguished himself by developing a near-maniacal love of peanut butter after the staff began hiding his many medications in it. There’s also L.J., who was surrendered because his owners couldn’t afford to treat his deformed right front leg. He was born without a radius bone, so his forepaw protruded at a right angle. What was less obvious was that the 9-month-old German shepherd also suffered from hip dysplasia. L.J., who’s so sweet that his initials quickly came to mean "Love Junkie" among the shelter workers, is recovering well from his leg amputation but faces a triple pelvic osteotomy because of the hip dysplasia and six weeks of cage rest before he’s ready for a home.
Not a CeCe Fund recipient but nevertheless making her presence known is Angel, a 3-year-old shepherd mix who was surrendered three days ago and is barking frantically. Her owners said they didn’t have enough time for her, but she appears traumatized: Angel displays a fear of men and is so aggressive that she could be a candidate for euthanasia. Shelter workers will attempt to spare her life.
As sad as these stories may be, Gasbarro says the hardest thing to see is an animal that should be free in the wild living in a cage. Her co-workers seem to share that view. "He wasn’t meant to be a pet," an employee at the desk can’t help but mutter as someone looks at Godzilla, the iguana who outgrew his previous apartment. Exotic animals are not only apt to outgrow their cages, but they also typically outlive their owners. Nikita, an African Gray parrot, is 15 and may live another 65 years. He and his longtime roommate, Sammy, a Senegal parrot who’s 15 and could live to be 30, are here because their owner was evicted and is trying to find housing that will accept the two birds. They’re great company: Nikita’s mumbling monologues are punctuated by crystal-clear outbursts: "Is that fresh water?" and "Are you OK?" Sammy likes to sit on volunteer Nixon’s shoulder to intercept a cantaloupe slice or two as she’s cutting fruit and vegetables for Godzilla and the rabbits.
By day’s end, 13 animals – all cats – will have been surrendered to the shelter. The neighbor of an elderly person who has just gone into a nursing home brings in George, an 8-year-old 30-pound cat who’s obviously terrified. Several staff members take an extra moment to hold him and reassure him. Also arriving is a tortoiseshell cat that was found by a good Samaritan in the street with her two newborns. The end of the day will also see nine animals off to new homes. As usual, dogs and kittens win attention from potential adopters – but most of the adult cats, small animals like guinea pigs, ferrets, and rats, and exotic animals like parrots get no interest.
This picture reveals a lot about the state of animal welfare. Massachusetts, like most of the country, has a severe feline overpopulation problem, and adult cats like Tara and Speedy suffer the consequences. Also, people are not in the habit of going to shelters to adopt guinea pigs and other small animals, preferring instead to visit pet stores. ARL president Jay Bowen says the organization wants to focus on both of these issues.
Bowen is completing his first year on the job and is facing his most challenging project yet – the complete overhaul of the two-story facility on Chandler Street. The league’s board is evaluating eight proposals for a greatly enlarged facility of 10 to 12 stories with an expanded veterinary community health center; improved shelter and adoption facilities; a broader animal behavioral program; offices for administration, humane education, rescue services, and law enforcement; and – on the top floors – condos. "It’s never been done before," says Bowen of mixing residential units with these kinds of animal services. "This project is really part of a larger strategic planning effort to reach out to the community more and be more responsive to the needs of the communities where we have locations. We’re as much about people as we are about animals."
When I check in again several weeks later, there’s lots to report, and much of it’s good news. George, the giant cat, now lives with Michele Ross, her three other cats, one dog, and two horses in Boxborough, where he has assumed a position of "regal leadership." "He never hisses at the other cats," says Ross. "He’s so gentle. It’s as though he’s been here forever." Pooki, the peanut butter-obsessed cocker spaniel, Jelly Roll, the pit bull puppy, and Jake and Jack, the dog/cat combo, have also all been adopted and are thriving in their new homes. The iguana Godzilla, who turned out to be a female and is now named Mithra after the deity of friendship and contracts, was taken in by Karen Penrod of New Boston, New Hampshire, who already had an iguana habitat. "We thought the name was appropriate because we had to sign a contract saying that we would always take good care of her," Penrod says. "She’s a real sweetie pie." The potential adopter who was playing with Zoey in the caged visiting area didn’t end up taking her, though someone else rescued the cat. Picasso, the Katrina refugee, has gone to work with a dog trainer in New Hampshire who is addressing his issues – and his rural leanings – and plans to find him a home.
But Tara, the adult cat who’s been at the shelter since March, is still waiting. So are parrots Nikita and Sammy, whose previous owner was unable to reclaim them. Angel, the shepherd mix who was acting aggressive, went to a so-called behavioral foster home but was later deemed "dangerous to re-home"; she was euthanized about two months after she arrived at the shelter. The frail kitten Faith, who also went into foster care, died of an undetermined cause. Rico didn’t make it, either. My beloved dog died in my arms on October 17, and there hasn’t been much joy since. I realize the shelter’s president is right: Animal rescue really is about people.
Boston Globe animal rescue audio slideshow
Reference: www.boston.com
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