It’s called Brand Management

As a business consultant with over 10 years experience working at some of the world’s largest corporations I’ve dealt with a number of issues affecting a businesses’ profitability.  One of the things I’m seldom flown across the country to address is Brand Management.  For the most part, companies that can afford to hire my company, and me by proxy, have figured out Brand Management and that’s what’s made them so profitable.

Not only do I research any brand I’m about to deal with (Pepsi, Sprint, Dow, Cargill, or the USDA), it’s expected that when I join a project team leadership from both sides will combine efforts to ensure I am educated on their brand so I can immediately fold into the troops fighting for their market share.  Anyone coming to work at Halfway Home Pet Adoptions (HHPA) or volunteer for them need the same indoctrination, "Here's our brand, this is who we are, now join us."  This entails telling but also listening for the first things they see or question so you can tell immediately the difference between the brand you claim to be and the brand your coming across as.

Part of Brand Management is Brand Experience, this is what it means for you as a consumer to interact with their product, hopefully take it into your home, and then when you need that product again have had such a positive overall experience you no longer compare prices, sizes, or ingredients, you don't look for or use coupons, you just reach for their bottle and move on.

One thing to quickly clarify, is that you don’t need an MBA in telecommunications to understand basic business precepts of a telecommunications company – business schools don’t specialize in that way because business precepts are a constant.  Your MBA will be good at Motorola, ING, Nissan, or Nabisco.  But I don't need an MBA and I don’t need to have worked in kennels to evaluate them, no one does.  Without any knowledge of an animal shelter, anyone can walk into a facility and look for the same basic business practices you’d see anywhere and judge your brand experience accordingly.  What this means is that the consumers for an animal shelter - effectively every person that walks through the door even if they’d never been in one previously - will try to understand what they see and experience with the same thought process they’d judge any retail store or service provider, they may deal with in their lifetime.  We might wish they knew more of the challenges to operating a facility like HHPA, but tough noogies, they won’t.  They aren’t there to understand the kennel, they are only there to pick out a dog.

I’ve been thinking of the brand experience of our shelter considerably.  Part of my research into the animal welfare industry in Kansas City has been to visit as many places and talk to as many people as possible.  With my consultant hat on, my goal of working at this shelter is to stand behind the brand (as I would for any company I’d be on a project for) and extol the virtues to others.  But when I talk about the brand of HHPA to our consumers, I realize they can just as easily go to or might have experience already in their Veterinarian’s office, Petco, Petland, Animal Haven, and Wayside Waifs. 

Some of those are indirect competitors (Vets and Petco) but they still convey an idea to consumers of how animals should be treated and what a facility with animals in it should look like, some are direct competitors (Petland, Animal Haven and Wayside Waifs) because they are doing much the same mission as HHPA, trying to get animals into families.  While all of us use the term ‘adopt’ it’s really selling a product; dogs.

There is the argument that we can’t compare all these because they aren’t all a municipal animal shelter, but that’s irrelevant because in the mind of the consumer they don’t see that.  In fact, if they do have an awareness that this is a medium to high-kill municipal shelter, that should actually work to our advantage helping to push our products off the shelves and into their arms.  But the fact is, someone bringing their kids in to pick out a new family dog is looking for a brand experience whether they are aware they’d be saving a dog from possible euthanasia or not, and if they know we might kill a dog that isn’t adopted, it actually holds us to a higher standard because the consumer will expect us to work harder than our competitors to get these dogs homes.

In 2009 the shelter management was privatized, this means we lost our identification as a city facility and aren’t a non-profit, to the consumer this means we can’t use that as a crutch and we have to compare with the same treatment they’d see for animals at their Vet office, because they are for profit, and for Petland and Petco, because the images they put forth impress the consumer with the idea all dogs should have blankets, soft beds, colorful toys, and a full bowl of food and water at their side.  And by the way, we need that image too, that image is helping push these people into changing their lives forever and taking a dog into their homes.

As a brand experience we have to raise the bar and be at least comparable to our direct competition, which in the eyes of our consumers, is Animal Haven and Wayside Waifs.  And here’s the rub, while price points do vary, we’re not the low cost leader*.  To the consumer, we may ask $100 for a dog and they may ask $110 for the exact same type of dog, so the brand experience for these consumers can mean the difference between walking through our shelter, looking at and considering adopting our dogs, and going back outside driving across town and doing the same thing at their facilities.  *Btw, we do not want to be the low cost leader because we can’t use that concept to our advantage like Wal-Mart, we can’t sell a dog for $15 because that same consumer will walk over and then buy a $200 dog.

With the busy Holiday Shopping Season already upon us, comparing our brand experience to Wayside Waifs, and there are easy things we can address that don’t cost money but do take a consistent process, leadership, and a unified effort to accomplish.  As one of my business professors once said, “Look at the big brands, see what they do, and copy it!”  It’s that simple. 

1)    Cleanliness – proven research indicates consumers stay in a store longer if it’s clean and orderly.  They increase their ‘shopping stare’ if they are looking at the products (dogs) and not the dust or dirt (dog feces / urine).  So our ‘store’ has to be clean, and free from cobwebs, bugs, dirt on the windows, animal waste in the kennels, and grime on the doors.  We’d get a significant advantage if we paint the walls a brighter color rather than the outdated aqua two-tone ‘facility paint job’ that’s been left there by the city*.  The point is we want to keep consumers in our shelter longer so they’ll evaluate the dogs more, take time to look into the top and bottom kennels, and have a chance to talk to an adoption counselor so we have time to tell them all about Lilly, Wilma, or Ellis.  The dogs are doing their parts, coming up to meet them, wagging tails, begging for their attention, we have to make certain we get a chance to give our sales pitch to help close the deal.

*I’ll wager a bet volunteers would be thrilled to help with a ‘Clean the Shelter’ day every six months to supplement the staff already responsible for cleaning duties.  Afterall, volunteers will stay longer in a clean facility too.  They might even know a way to get paint donated or help do some minor painting on doors with paint chipped, or wash windows so dusty you can'y see through them.

2)   Smiles – as simple as that sounds, it’s also shown retail sales increase when associates smile around consumers.  I don’t see many smiles at HHPA, likely because everyone is so crazy busy with running around trying to find paper towels that we don’t take much time to look at the people in the shelter let alone smile at them.  Walking from one end of the shelter to another throughout a given day and I can usually count the number of smiles I’ll see on one hand.  If we don’t look happy to be there, consumers certainly won’t look happy to be there.  And if we aren’t smiling, they’re reading our face as ‘something is wrong or sad’ and they associate that to the place we’re in.

3)   Marketing – when you walk down a grocery store aisle every product is telling a story.  Let’s take the cereal aisle.  Compare four different children’s cereals and you’ll see common themes on color choice used for the boxes, images (because kids cereals don’t need as many words as fiber ones do), and size of the product.  Children’s cereal usually comes in larger sizes because it’s fun for kids to grab, easy for them to be drawn to, and parents see the value in the size, whereas bran cereals come in smaller boxes because no one gets excited about a pound of fiber in their shopping cart.  So if cereal has to sell itself from the shelf, then dogs do too.  We have to give consumers more information about these dogs to intrigue them, and start that journey to brand loyalty, i.e. adopting from a shelter. 

Our kennel cards are half a sheet of paper, black ink on white.  They convey basic information, but most the consumers I’ve approached can’t read them and don’t understand them.  Our competition, they use pink paper for girls, blue paper for boys, and orange when two dogs came in together and they have to go out together.  We can do that, or at least high-light the dog names in pink or blue.  They also print the bios of the dogs and hang them on the kennels as part of the ‘selling process’ so the same experience consumers may have online looking for a dog is mirrored by their visit to our kennel where they actually meet the dogs.  You’re managing your brand from online to in-store, and that’s what consumers expect.

There is some cost to this change because right now our kennels only have holders for this half-sheet of paper.  But, it would be a one time capital investment to get holders for a full sheet of paper, and since we use half the sheet for the statistical information, it would be a matter of re-feeding the same paper through a printer to copy and paste the bios we already have out on the Internet.  Maybe we don’t want to do this extra effort, but then since our competitors are doing it, maybe we have to find a way to do it.

And since I mentioned the Internet, we have to address that as well.  Imagine a consumer perusing our own website, finding exactly what they’re searching for, contacting the shelter only to be told – adopted, rescued, euthanized – UNAVAILABLE!  Well, how much would you trust that website again?  So on the phone we often say, you need to come out and look.  That would be great if our brand experience at the shelter was on target, but it’s not.  So we’re giving them less convenience, bringing them to a facility that’s not always clean or smells good, is definitely loud and emotionally trying to be around.  Basically, when we don’t keep our Internet listings current we’re taking two steps back.  And we all know this; NO ONE is doing less with their websites, everyone is doing more.  It’s not a matter of increasing the workload, but being more efficient with it.  Bios start the day the dog comes into the facility, volunteers should build them up each time they walk a dog and data entry is adding one sentence to a paragraph to help sell that dog.  It’s not hard work, but it takes organization and efficiency and has to be a basic business process.

4)   Product Placement – For our own brand management we have to decide if we want to be a Specialty Store (Best Buy / Pet Stores), or a Used Goods Store (well, because we kinda are).  If we act like a used goods store consumers expect discounted prices, and clearance.  This means we’re targeting consumers that make a buying decision based primarily on cost – a low cost.  This is NOT the types of consumers we want to send a product home to that has an average annual cost of $500 just for their food, not to mention their annual Vet bills ($100 to $500) and ancillary supplies ($30 to $1000).  But if we act like a Specialty Store we have an opportunity to appeal to consumers who see the product value as outweighing the sticker price, and subsequent costs of maintenance.

At a used goods store, I don’t care if a shirt is missing a button, I don’t mind if a sweater has pills on it, I’m getting it for the low cost and can put a button back on or use that sweater shaver thing we all got Christmas 97’.  But if we are a Specialty Store carrying specific breeds, shapes, sizes, if we capitalize on the very variety that comes naturally to our doors, we instantly expand the product choices from ‘Dog’ to Rhodesian Ridgeback Mix, or Chow Chow Mix.  Then, give the selling points for a Rhodesian Ridgeback (bravery and used to help athletes train) or the Chow (blue-black/purple tongue and extremely loyal to its family and will bond tightly to its master) and help consumers understand what they might be getting, even if we have to caveat it with ‘We don’t know the mix exactly, so these are just possible qualities of this dog.’   

This will be an initial effort, but even if we only use Wikipedia to gather fast facts about dogs, we create a file and re-use that information over and over again.  How many times do you think KitchenAid® re-writes descriptions for their blenders?  Not often.  And you can bet anywhere you see a KitchenAid® they make sure their description is there to help sell.

There’s two steps to product placement as it applies to the shelter; Brand Recognition for the dog we have, and Brand Ideal for the potential this dog has to be.  To recognize what we’ve already got, it all starts with the data the dog is entered into the system.  We have to go deeper into identifying the breed, the gender and if we’ve noticed whether it’s been altered previously (a good sign this dog was once cared for) to explain their breed type and personality, their coat and expectations for grooming, their age and energy level, and give the dog a story.  We have to create the brand awareness for potential consumers tying an energetic active dog to marathon runners or busy professionals who need a dog to get them into Penn Valley at the end of their hectic day. 

Connecting a short coat with minimal grooming but an ‘oh-so-amazing to be petted feeling’ like what Corinthian leather did for Chrysler.  This is where Brand Recognition ties back to cleanliness, we have to bathe every dog which comes into HHPA at least once before they are put on the shelves, we have to remove the fleas, trim the nails, cut out the matts, and give them a better smell.  Even used clothing stores won’t put soiled shirts on their racks, so we can’t put dogs covered in dust or burrs out for the public to see. 

No we can’t professionally groom all the Poodle mixes we get, but we can tell the story of how good this little Pierre will look once that professional grooming is done by the new parents, we’re creating the Brand Ideal for the potential this dog has to be.  This won’t cost us money, but this will take a process in place to see that it’s done for every dog.  Maybe it’s using Community Service, maybe it’s organizing a SWAT team of volunteers, maybe it’s hiring someone for $9 an hour and making it their responsibility.  Minimal cost, extreme payoff.

5)   Close the Deal – The last thing I see as an opportunity for improvement is closing the deal with the consumer, getting them to the register and getting the dogs out of the shelter.  To make this process go smoother we need to change our front office area and adoption office area and smarten up the paperwork we shuffle around.  We have to use words like ‘pet parents’, and ‘if you adopt’, and ‘if you’re approved’, and treat this exchange more like what it is; changing the lives of the people and the dogs forever.  As hard as it may seem, it also means we have to avoid buyers regret or indecision by forcing potential adopters to wait longer for the dogs, we have to insist everyone in the family meet the dogs before they are approved, we have to send new parents on their way with clear marketing pieces to tell them what to do next, what to expect, and what to do if there is an issue.  We have to equip them with the right resources to enable a successful and permanent transition and most importantly, to increase repeat business.  It’s commonly known it takes more effort to earn a consumer than keep one, so if we don’t keep them, we’re only making our own jobs harder.  But if we make our process more professional, we’ll attract better consumers, and better consumers will be better to work with in the long run.

I’m new to animal welfare in Kansas City, but not new to consulting.  I’ve been doing the same types of projects for over 10 years for completely different industries because the business processes do not change despite the fact products vary significantly.  Consumers all want the same thing, they want a brand experience they will enjoy, will help them buy (or they wouldn’t have come to the shelter in the first place), and will help them feel good about their purchase.  For those with more experience in animal welfare, the next thing they should do after reading this is go to see the competition!  See what you like and what you don’t, look for what they do as part of the brand management and adopt it for ours, and talk to others you volunteer with, work with, and get on the same page.  We each have to be leaders in changing the brand of HHPA so we can all see more dogs get adopted, it’s that simple.

What are you willing to do for your pet? Anything??!!

There’s a lot of controversy over an emotional topic like animal welfare, especially when we’re talking about animals that are normally pets.  At first everyone has the inclination to roll up their sleeves and help, touch the animals, and somehow get some of that amazing magic they possess to make each of us feel better for being near them. 

A dog who is a total stranger one minute, makes us smile and soft-hearted the next as we hold their shivering body next to us.  We believe we are comforting them, when in truth they are just as frightened of us as they are of the large dog in the kennel across the way, or the one beneath them they always hear and feel going in circles, but rarely see.

So you take this dog out of the kennel, take him for a walk, give him moments of love and compassion, but inevitably you’ll have to return this dog to the same kennel they were extracted from.  It’s just like people in prison getting a chance to walk in the yard, they aren’t really free, but we give them this time believing it helps.

Then there are the dogs you can’t take out, the ones so scared they go to the back of their small cell and look at you with total mistrust, even growling or barking with a clear warning “I don’t trust your kind.”  Those, you have to leave in the kennel, those are the ones that may never leave the shelter, and will die there.

Of course there are the special cases, the ones you email your friends about, the ones you check on as soon as you get there to volunteer, the ‘projects’ you take on to get them out of that place.  The ones that fill your heart and drain it at the same time.  They make you wonder about reincarnation.

And then there are the ones you never noticed at all.  The dark pit bulls in the lower kennels where it’s so dark you can’t see them fully.  The old ones crossbred in such a way they have no distinct breed whatsoever, nothing about them jumps out at you, and one day when they are gone and another dog is in their kennel, you can’t recall who was there prior.

So you vow to come back, you try to spend more time the next visit, get to more dogs, but it will never be enough.  Because we’re dealing with the symptoms and not the disease, animal shelters will never go away and dogs will always be there, and they will continue to die there.

The disease is simply greed.  We want affection, we get a dog.  We want attention, we get a dog.  We want companionship, we get a dog.  We want status, we get a dog.  How often does anyone say they want a dog because they want to give up hours of their lives, part of their paycheck, adjust their lifestyle, and commit to an animal for the rest of their natural life?! 

Well, some of us say this, but so many more do not.  The man who came in with his wife and child and wanted all four puppies from a litter, until I said they ALL must be spayed and neutered.  He wasn’t as interested when the dogs couldn’t carry the status of being unaltered.  The young couple who came late and stayed past closing, sticking their fingers in all the cages taking germs from one dog to another, and then said they really hadn’t looked into which breed would work with their home life, just they wanted a good looking dog that didn’t need too much attention and wouldn’t take too much time.  I’m sure their hearts were in the right place, but where were their heads?

Then there was the mother and son who brought in their own small dog to surrender.  The dog was eliminating inside the house.  “Have you taken the dog to any training classes?”  “Have you read any books or articles on how to housetrain your dog?”  “Have you asked any of your friends if they’d be willing to take your dog?”  “Do you know that this shelter is a high-kill shelter and it’s possible (read: likely) your dog will be euthanized?”  But $10 later and they surrendered their dog without having taken any of those steps, just producing one excuse after another for why they hadn’t really taken care of their dog at all.  I guess they expected the dog to know everything that they themselves had been taught at one point in their lives.

Will this household receive a large red X painted on their roof to say “Don’t allow another dog here, they don’t know what they are doing!”  Of course not.  They will probably get another dog, and another, and continue disposing of them like a shirt bought on sale that wrinkled after washing.

WE are the problem for dogs and cats, not the other way around.  WE as a culture have an epidemic pet overpopulation problem that few people are aware of, or blind to, and a few are trying to fight, but we won’t win this battle until WE realize we are the cause.

Of the six people I saw today at the shelter that aren’t good owners, aren’t prepared to be owners, and are causing dogs to be euthanized instead of take responsibility for their own actions, there was one man who adopted a dog who said what anyone should expect to hear “It’s like taking home a baby!”

So one in seven people may make good dog owners.  That number seems about right given the number of dogs and cats that come into the shelter.  One in seven people are good for dogs and cats on this planet, and the other six aren’t.  Maybe the most significant thing any of us can do is to dissuade friends, coworkers, and family members from getting dogs or cats until they’ve proven their worth.  Maybe anyone who is deemed a responsible pet owner should volunteer to do in-home inspections prior to any adoptions being approved.   Maybe this would cause huge numbers of dogs and cats to be euthanized because we wouldn’t adopt to those six people.  But maybe that’s what it takes to stem the tide of disease.

As I write this at nearly midnight, my own beautiful Lab has woke from bed and come to see why I’m not there.  When I say “It’s ok, you can go to bed.”  She looks at me, stretches, turns her head to look back at the bedroom, and then turns to face me.  She sits on her haunches and stares at me to say “Not without you.”  See, that’s what my dog will do for me, anything.  And that’s what I’ll do for her, anything.  And that’s what anyone who brings a dog or cat into their world should be willing to commit – to anything.  If you don’t hear someone utter these words, they aren’t ready and they aren’t fit.  They don’t deserve a dog or cat, and no dog or cat deserves to be with them.

We should talk about pet ownership with the same passion we discuss Racism, Sexism, Classism...maybe it should be called Petism.  It's discrimination against pets.

There are Amazing Days

Some days make you believe in others, make you happy to be shaken on by a wet dog with fleas, and make you so grateful to know the people you do.  Coming off a high from the day prior that volunteers, rescues, and adoptive parents had found homes for all 43 of the dogs that had been on the euthanasia list, I refocused on the dogs that remain, because there will always be more dogs a the shelter.

I started the morning with a noise at the front door; our door handle was being turned.  Slinking out of bed and tip toeing over to it, I rose up on tiptoe to look out the peephole.  No one there, so I turned the handle and opened the door to find a brown bag full of home made cookies with a note “For the volunteers.”  My ‘Hallmark’ neighbors had struck again.  (Insert pleasant smile as I return to the bedroom, and get dressed to go to the shelter).

At the shelter, I see Sam who finally answers the question I’d been asking for weeks.  “Are you the volunteer coordinator?”  “Yes.”  This is awesome because SAM is awesome.  She’s headed to an adoption event, where we’ll have a great representative there to spread the name of the shelter and hopefully get a dog or two adopted.

Turn around and I see Britton, on her birthday, giving orientation to a new group of volunteers.  To anyone who volunteers their time, seeing more hands to help, is always a welcome sign.  Seeing one of the core volunteers there on a day other women might be pampering themselves with manicures and pedicures (NOT that there’s anything wrong with that ;0) is inspiring and helps you realize how amazing the people around you are.

Getting organized and ready to give a number of dogs baths and shaves I run into Barb, who agreed to wash dogs with me, and she’s getting organized as well.  I ask, “How long do you have?” expecting two or maybe three hours of her Saturday and she replies “As long as you need.”  (Insert relieved smile as I so look forward to working with someone on this exhausting task).

While bathing the dogs, one of us washes, one of us dries and walks, and we make excellent progress.  For the first time, we meet a dog that allows us to shave her matted ears and rear while she’s still awake.  This is RARE at a shelter since so many dogs come here never having experienced real care, let alone grooming.  Because we don’t have to anesthetize this pup, we have more time to bathe more pups.  Excellent!

The only hiccup in this day, when Barb and I prepare to wash one of two dogs housed in the same kennel (because they came in together) and talk about how we’ll try to address their mattes, their long nails, their dirt and their fleas, occurred when one of the staff leads a ‘owner’ back to our area who nearly freaks out that we are washing ‘her dogs.’  She is here to reclaim one of six dogs taken from her home for neglect and being over the limit for KC of four pets. 

When I turn to her and say, “That dog still needs a bath, and has fleas, and the dog I’m washing now has mattes…” she interrupts me to say, “I’m a groomer!”  Well, obviously not.  Mattes, fleas, and long nails are something a groomer would not allow.  YOU, are simply a liar - or delusional.  She took back one of the dogs, relinquished several others, and left one there.  Not much of an owner, absolutely not a groomer.  I hope I see her again because Barb and I thought of all the things we wished we had said, so next time…

Not allowing that to slow our progress, the next visitor to the spa for the day, was one of the neighbors that also gave the cookies.  This time he had so many paper towels to donate he had to bring them in his car because they’d be too much for mine.  Not waiting for thanks, he just wanted to know where they should go.  Nice.

At the end of day Barb and I got to all but one dog we planned to bathe, and that little girl is on my list for Monday.  She’s a senior chow, Shelley, who came in so matted for a whole week we considered her ‘Sheldon.’  Now that her Kennel Cough is better, washing her will be ok so we don’t chill her too much.

Working the full day, when I’d only planned a few hours, I headed home damp, exhausted, smelly, but feeling really good.  A quick stop at Lowe’s to get an attachment for the hose so washing dogs in the future will be easier, and I’m verklempt as the extremely helpful man in plumbing, noticed my shirt, asked where I was working, and said “Keep up the good work.  I got a dog from there once”  It feels pretty good to be recognized for doing this work, and wonderful to know he's smart enough to save a dog rather than shop for one.  (Insert exhausted smile and tears at corner of eyes).

Approaching our door I find more paper towels from another neighbor, and a plate of brownies.  More treats for the volunteers and more recognition that people support and care about what we are doing.

Crossing our threshold I walk down our long hallway, hoping hubby just started slicing, peeling, and prepping for our Mexican dinner at home.  What I found, sitting brilliantly on our granite counter, was a literal PILE of supplies for the shelter with a handmade sign taped to the tower of paper towels “Happy Anniversary, Love Mike”.  I cried.  That was not only the cap to an amazing day, where hope and accomplishment reigned supreme, but also absolutely the best anniversary gift I could ever receive.  I can hardly wait to get to the shelter again and deposit the puppy food, scissors, clipboards, peroxide, bleach, peanut butter, collars and puppy toys (to name only some of the treasure) to the others.  I’m pretty sure they will be almost as excited as I am.

So, there are amazing days.  :0)

A Matter of Perspective – Death Penalty for Criminals and the Homeless

As Missourians watch and read the news whether a convicted murderer will be put to death, they also get the debate whether he should be put to death or receive a stay of execution, life without parole, and whether the death penalty should even exist in a modern society.  Odd parallels are present to the fight to save dogs from a shelter. 

Capital punishment is only prescribed for murder, and many argue the idea that “…an eye for an eye makes the world blind.”  Euthanasia is dictated for some dogs that aggressively hurt a human, a dog, a cat, particularly if they killed the other animal and their owner will not reclaim the pet and get them training.   Once a ‘Bite Dog’ is in the shelter, they have approximately 10 days until they are put down.  What if Capital Punishment happened 10 days following conviction? 

The Capital Punishment debate has proponents on both sides, with some of the same arguments for humans and dogs.  Some believe a convicted murderer can be rehabilitated or that extenuating circumstances should be taken into consideration, for example someone beaten as a child, someone coerced or trained to be bad. 

The same argument holds for dogs, just because they bit or even killed once doesn’t mean they will do it again, and the situation under which it happened may explain the behavior.  Was the dog taunted, was the dog frightened?  Did the owners think it was funny when the dog tormented the cat, did they let it kill birds and squirrels and not realize the possibility of escalation?  Not to mention those terrible owners who train their dogs to be aggressive.  Even with all this, I still feel safer around a dog that has bit and even killed, than I do around a human that has killed.  

Anyone condemned to death has protestors and lawyers trying to save their life, or at least prolong it through court appeals; a preference for life in jail without parole.  Even for the most heinous among us, someone will stand up and say taking any human life is wrong and they are spared. 

So what if a dog never bit, what if a dog did nothing more than get picked up for being on the street without identification, without someone to claim them – they are just homeless? 

The dogs in shelters have volunteers, with the help of rescue groups and potential adopters, frantically trying to save them all.  We send emails, cross post in all social media we have access to, and call our friends and family and all say the same thing – This is a good dog that doesn’t deserve to die. 

The staff at the shelter appreciate the help but also face the brutal reality that we don’t have space enough.  More dogs arrive at the shelter every day and we have to find a way to service the public.  Sometimes I wonder if we’re really enabling the public?

As Missourians talk about how expensive maintaining death row is, and the court costs of death penalty cases, I think of our municipal shelter struggling to maintain daily operations.  More like a field hospital or disaster relief center, the shelter focuses on what MUST happen every day and staff tell themselves “Maybe tomorrow I’ll get the time to bathe that dog…”  What if Missouri stopped debating the death penalty, just sentenced to life in jail without parole, and all that money spent on their trials and stays and even the execution itself was instead spent to better the community they had harmed?  It costs less for life without parole that an execution in most cases.

What if we call euthanasia at shelters, in the case of healthy and adoptable dogs, exactly what it is; Killing…a death penalty for doing nothing wrong but being homeless.

What is it saying about all of us that dogs are treated like criminals, shelters can be like jails, and a death penalty is imposed on a dog just because there are too many of them?

What if we rounded up all the homeless in every city, put them in a jail for five to 60 days, then if no one came to claim them, if no one wanted to foster, rescue, or adopt them, we killed them too?  They are on the streets, they don’t have an address, they dig through trash, need baths and shaves, and are perceived as a nuisance.  (Just ask me, I live in an area with plenty of homeless.)  In reality they are as kind and nice as any dog at the shelter.  But I’d take a dog into my home before I’d take a homeless person.  What’s that saying about me?

What if we advertised ‘Spay and Neuter’ as ‘Sterilize and Vasectomize’ on bumper stickers, and told the Octa-moms, the Duggars, and John and Kate we need to remove a few of their kids because they are over the limit?

What if city ordinances were passed to say you can’t live here if you’re Irish, Italian, or Muslim, or Jewish?   But go to another city and you’re ok.  People want to adopt Pit Bulls, but they can’t if they live in the wrong neighborhood.

What if we treated humans like we treat animals?  What if we treat animals like we treat humans?

There’s no clear right or wrong here, no opinion to press or sell.  Only the quote from Gandhi you probably all know: “The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated.”  And then a quote from a comment board “Do people realize we are all animals or is there a documented belief that humans are not animals?”

An Open Letter to Volunteers- Perseverance

Today the euthanasia list for this week came out; 34 dogs most the volunteers know will be humanely put down Wednesday at 5:00 CST due to time and space limitations.  This means 34 dogs we have walked, gotten to know the character of, and shown love to will no longer exist the next day simply because the shelter has no more room for them and they've been there long enough now a decision has been made to make room for more dogs coming in each day.

I know 34 sounds like a lot (it is), but there are over a 100 dogs at the shelter now, and we simply cannot sustain support for that many animals.  Our building is far beyond it's life expectancy, and literally, we don't have enough kennels let alone staff to care for this many.  At some point, the quality of life for a dog that has been at a shelter for over 30, 40, and 50 days has to be a consideration.  If you saw the shelter, you'd understand.  You wouldn't like it, but you'd understand.

One of the dogs, Peaches, was likely mis-labeled as a Pit Bull and just missed being adopted because the family lives in a city with an ordinance against the breed.  After the family selected another dog and left, at least two of the staff determined she is really a Rhodesian Ridgeback.  That paper work error, will likely cost this dog her life.  One other, Tabitha, has a cherry-eye, and is often overlooked by potential adopters because they don't know what it is and haven't stopped to ask us or we could tell them it's easily remedied and she would make a wonderful pet.  And each of these 34 dogs has a story, has traits and ways about them which the volunteers could tell you if you were interested in hearing.  So here's my letter to some of the core volunteers, who share my sadness as I write, and have to find a way to face tomorrow working against a clock, and then Thursday to return to walk the dogs that remain.

I post it here so others know what it's like so they will decide to adopt a dog rather than shop for one, and when they refuse to support a shelter that euthanizes for time and space limitations, realize that's not changing the equation it's only ensuring a new list is published each week.  If you choose to go to a 'no kill shelter' I'm glad you're still adopting -- grateful even -- but they can't be 'no kill' without a network of other organizations that enable their position.  The dogs still exist, even if they aren't in the best facility.  Pet overpopulation IS an epidemic in this country.

Ladies,

I know this is already a hard and long week, but I want to let you all know how much you mean to me, and I haven't even met you all in person - we've emailed like fiends!  It's amazing the work we've been doing, and work we will get done.  We won't save all of them, but we will save as many as we can.  I know we are looking for a 'success story' to share with others, and right now all I have to offer is one thing which keeps me going each and every day; Buddy's brooms.

Ever since volunteering there, I could easily see basic necessities were needed; bleach, spray bottles, paper towels, peroxide, alcohol, etc.  It was shocking to me the day I asked Jeremy where more paper towels were and he pointed to a roll in a plastic bin sitting to the side, to which I said "No, where do we keep back stock?  I don't want to take these, the Treatment Room needs a new roll."  When he shrugged, then said "That may be it" the full weight hit me; an animal shelter with (at that time) over 40 dogs might just have run out of paper towels -- are you kidding me?

So I've started my modest 'Stock the Shelter' program for my building to gather these much needed items for the Holidays.  Obviously I've just started and we haven't reached any of the goals yet.  But each day I come home, I find something at my door.  One neighbor family, who adopted their pup Buddy from a shelter, have consistently given me supplies to bring in almost every day I've been there.  Towels, peroxide, a dustpan, trash bags, toys, food, leashes, collars, and yesterday two happy yellow brooms were waiting for me -- I think of them as Buddy's brooms.

Nearly every day Buddy's Dad emails to make sure I got the items, to check how the list is coming along, and promise he'll bring more tomorrow.  Nearly every day I feel like a secret admirer has left a Hallmark card on my doormat and I get to feel less alone, more supported, and know it's going to get brighter.  I also remember why I'm doing this, not just because I love dogs, but because I want them to live lives like Buddy has.

Living near the 'Hallmarks' of this world, and getting to work with women who persevere as you all do, is an amazing way to live a life.  That we face some horrific and heartbreaking things is unfortunate, but accurate testimony to our own strength and perseverance.  I believe in each and every one of you.  We are doing what we can, we are giving what we have, and we are making a difference to every dog that is saved and that's what we have to focus on.

What we see, is dismal.  But what we forget to see because it's not in front of us every day is a shelter dog like Buddy is alive today, he is living every day to the fullest with two parents who love and adore him, neighbors who know his name and greet him before his mom and dad, and I remember that Buddy is still around because at one time, one week, and when his time was almost out, he got out of a shelter and got to live the life he was meant for.  We wont' save them all, but we will save as many as we can.  And those we save, will live long happy lives because of us.  

Keep your chins up and your hearts open -- they're counting on US.

Who Hates Puppies?

Once watched a show on Discovery or Nat Geo that explained why babies are so attractive in nature.   Whether through scent, appearance, or sound, Mother Nature saw fit to make babies pretty irresistible – literally.  The show purports that infants in all species are attractive to keep them cared for, and keep parents from abandoning them when they need care so desperately.

So of our own species we have to ask, Who Hates Puppies?  Well, you’d think that would be a tough question to answer, but the behavior of some tells me they just aren’t natural creatures themselves to reject these little pups. 

One puppy arrived because the ‘owner’ was kicking the little guy and force-rolling him down a hill.  Concerned people saw, pictured, and called police.  A crack-pipe was found in the persons’ pocket, the puppy was taken away, and taken to this shelter.

One puppy was found with a sibling, in a box that someone happened upon.  Abandoned and cold, we don’t know where the mother is or any other litter mates are, and their little faces, little eyes tell us, they don’t know either.

One puppy was dropped off by an ‘owner’ who stated he just couldn’t care for him or the four siblings anymore after raising them for five months.  When asked if they were healthy or any concerns we should know about – “Na man, they’re all good.”  About an hour later and two of the puppies were spilling blood from mouths and rectums because the Parvo was that bad.  Another showed similar symptoms of a virus so advanced there is no help for them, and only two remain.  These two may or may not live since this virus kills 80% of puppies inflicted.  Worse, because of this ‘owner’ bringing in pups he HAD TO KNOW WERE SICK, he’s now exposed over 80 other dogs in the kennel to this highly contagious virus.

So you have to ask, Who Hates Puppies?  I don’t know what is wrong with them, but obviously they’re unnatural.  Maybe that means they’re just evil.

Layla's Social Network

Holding Layla, wrapped like a baby, upon my shoulder, listening to her cough, feeling her warmth, knowing she’s nuzzling into my neck, and I’m a new mom.  I guess this is what it feels like, not having any kids of my own, but holding this little pup in my arms, I’m her mom today.

It’s an amazing journey she’s already been on, but an even more astounding one  upon which she’s about to embark.  Born, we don’t know where, cared for or loved, we aren’t sure.  She came to the shelter picked up by ACO.  She was matted head to toe, had no teeth, and not able to walk well because of the burrs sinking into her paws and pads with every step.  She was, in short, a mess.

In the 8 days she was in the shelter, she sat 5 alone in the kennel with only food and water offered since volunteers are not allowed to walk dogs for the first 5 days because their ‘owners’ might come back for them.  It’s a ‘liability-thing.’  Without teeth, she was offered hard food which had been soaked in warm water until mushy, and that was the best we could give.   Noting she wasn’t eating, we tried a few soft foods, but she seemed disinterested.  I don’t know if she ate anything in those first 5 days.

Emancipation date, and we took her from the kennel for the firs time, injected her with anesthesia, and shaved her body clean.  Wrapped in towels she woke in my lap, someone she only met today, and someone who delivered her to a quick shot in the rear end.  Cold, nearly naked, and in a new room I can only imagine how that must feel for someone so small.  She’s 8lbs against the world, and the world has the upper hand.

Bringing her home to foster, she knows the world finally gave her a break.  Meeting the 80lb Lab in this temporary home must have been daunting, but something she could learn to live with.  Eating food, drinking water, being warm, safe and dry, and she’s 180 degrees from whence she came.  Last night she slept in the king size bed, surrounded by a lab, and my arm, that loved the feeling of her lungs lifting, lowering, and that tiny heartbeat in my hand.

Today, she’s spry, perky, but still feeble from her experiences and still naked with cotton ball hair whisping from her back and tail.  I wonder if she thinks this is ‘home’ forever, as she likes laying on Denali’s bed (my lab), sitting in my lap, and is already growing into a place in this family.  It’s not her forever home, but another stop on this journey.

Tomorrow, at 8:45 am, I’ll hand her to another kind stranger who will start Layla’s next chapter.  Traveling with a car load of other dogs, she’ll begin her ‘transport’ to the rescue who will care for her going forward, until that forever home really comes.  From Kansas City to Bethany Missouri (90 miles), then from Bethany to Ames Iowa (114 miles), then Ames to Owatonna Minnesota (135 miles), then Owatonna to Brooklyn Center (75 miles), and on she will go to Milwaukee where her rescue awaits.  Nearly each leg of the trip is driven by a separate volunteer, each taking their time, their gas, and their wards to new homes, rescues, and hopes for a forever future of love and kindness. 

If Layla could write a book, this would be a harrowing journey from rags to riches – canine-style.  She could journal to explain her desperation, destitution, and ultimate salvation at the hands of strangers who loved her, and will always have her in their hearts.  We’ve come together in such an amazing ‘social network’ to save these dogs, give them a chance for the life they were born for, but also for ourselves.  We’re saving ourselves every step of Layla’s journey, we’re becoming more whole than we knew we could be.  Thanks to Layla for saving us.

If you’re interested in volunteering at Halfway Home Pet Adoptions, helping with foster dogs, giving time to transport dogs to a better world, if you want to join this ‘social network’ – we’d love to ‘Friend’ you.  

Is Fostering a Dog like Crack?

So I describe myself as an avid dog lover…while picturing large dogs in my head.  I have an 80lb Yellow Lab and she’s more or less the sun – read, center of my universe.  It’s not that I don’t like small dogs, they just never took up space in my heart, probably because they often stay so close to their own parents I haven’t bonded with them, or true to little-dog form they’ve snipped, snapped, and chased my larger dog around the park until even she turns to say “For cryin’ out loud stop – we’re on the same side idiot!” – in Bark of course, which I don’t speak, but can hear.

However, lately at the shelter, I’ve had the opportunity to learn guerilla grooming, which basically equates to shaving a dog bald trying to get all the matted hair removed.  We only resort to this when it’s the last resort and I’ll add it’s much easier to learn grooming on a dog that’s knocked out w/ drugs.  (I don’t recommend bathing them though – just keep that little note to yourself.)  The dogs have to be anesthetized for this, as no sane dog would permit clippers on his body this much, and removing matted hair clumps can be very painful depending on how bad and gunky they are.  The worst are burrs which lodge in soft leg hair and prick little leg skin whenever dogs sit or lay down.  Getting these free takes approach from all sides, breaks in between to avoid that nasty clipper burn, and re-approach with a one-two combo scissor / clipper action until they come off.  Seriously, show me the tree that needs to seed down this badly and I’ll show you one annoying tree!

The first shave I watched changed Sheldon to Shelley and the listing for this Chow from Male to Female - honestly, you couldn't tell because s/he had so much hair.  The first dog I guerilla groomed was George, he went from being a ‘Poodle Mix’ to a ‘Schnauzer Mix’ once we unstuck his ears from his front shoulders, and sheared the curly coat from his back side.    Amazing what a good shave can do, and because of this shave he went to a Schnauzer Rescue the very next day.  The second dog was Shandy, whom I’ve written an earlier blog regarding, and by now she’s well settled into her new home and some of her hair is starting to grow back.  I’m sure she’s forgiven me for the clipper burn, and maybe forgotten me because she has two new humans and a sister so spend all her time with now – Bliss.

But yesterday was Layla the poodle.  She’s so small, less than 8lbs, and so timid it’s hard to see a little dog like this go through so much, and go back to a 3 x 3 kennel that seems to swallow her up.  She gets brought to the shelter, knocked out for grooming, shaven naked except for her head, then wakes from anesthesia with a two playful pups in the same room and must wonder at the universe for this strange day.  After she’s fully woke up, it’s time for a bath to remove the dander and dirt and tear stains from around her eyes.  The only ‘good’ part of her day probably started then, being wrapped in a Turkish towel and hand fed lamb and rice (she doesn't have teeth anymore)  as my best ‘baby-voice’ spoke sweet nothings in her ear.

After shaving and bathing her yesterday – the best shave I’ve done yet which isn't saying alot but I'm sure she's happy I've improved – she still has most the hair around her head, giving her something of a poof-for-a-pooch hairdo.  Her skin is a fairer pink and brown freckles can be seen everywhere, including her wrinkled tail, all in prep for her big trip.  Saturday, she will be taking transport to her new rescue all the way in Milwaukee WI.  So that she doesn’t get sick between now and then, I’ll foster her for the rest of today thru Saturday morning when I’ll pass her along.  I already know tears will flow, but she’s going onto a better place on this planet – which she richly deserves.

I’ve been desperate to do more, and fostering is the perfect way, but living in a loft it’s challenging to know which fosters will work and which will not.  And my husband, justifiably so, is concerned at bringing in too much dog for our living space, which wouldn’t be fair to him, our dog, or any dog we’d foster.  But at the size Layla is, she won’t even take up as much space as a bag of chips.

Like an expectant parent with a planned c-section, I’m looking at the clock again and again counting down to my appointment; when I can go get her.  Today she’ll receive her shots and be spayed, and I’ll likely pick up a ‘punch-drunk’ Layla when I bring her home.  Once home, I’ll introduce her to Denali and see how this arrangement may be arranged so the two can get along – can’t have Layla nipping at Denali and can’t have Denali laying down on Layla!

Everyone says this, but it’s different when you feel it – saving a dog is really saving yourself.  But love is always like this, you do just know.  I’m so danged happy at the chance to do more for a dog, for this dog, I can hardly stand it.  Knowing I’m helping her get to a new home, even if it can’t be my home, feels like I’m working the Underground Railroad, or being a Suffragist, or just making the world a little better for one other living creature.  Do I miss my paycheck, well sortof, do I love this feeling – like you can’t imagine!  I grew up looking at role models and sometimes wondered, how did they do so much?  How can I ever do as much?  I don’t think that way now, every little, tiny, miniscule bit matters, but it’s like crack.  Do it once – help someone or something when you don’t have to – you’ll be hooked.  It’s not such a bad addiction to have really.  Want some?  :o)

Two Mastiffs

Looking for a positive thing to write is like looking at pennies in a dustpan and trying to sift for them through the debris.  I’m still looking.

In two weeks two Mastiffs’ have come to the shelter, both with very different stories.  Cecil, a tan Mastiff with a black muzzle, laid in the ‘Bite Section’ of the shelter for several weeks.  I caught a glimpse of him when helping with other chores or duties, but didn’t realize how long he had been there until I read his card.  This area of the shelter is where new intakes go until there is room on the main kennel floor for them.  It is also where suspected ‘Bite Dogs’ are held for 10 days until either their owner claims them, or the owner surrenders them and they are euthanized, or on a rare occasion the animals behavior can be evaluated and the incident explained or understood and the dog may still go up for adoption.  It’s not really death row, but it’s not a very good place for a dog to find himself.

Cecil was full-grown and very large, and there are only three kennels on the main floor that could even hold him.  So he sat in these back kennels, able to basically stand up and turn around and lay down again.  Every time I saw Cecil he looked depressed.  Head on paws, he looked up but did not always lift up his head.  I was told he’d lost 15lbs since coming to the shelter, and showed little interest in the food placed in his kennel.

I felt so sorry for him, and vowed to get him out for a walk and get him some fresh air.  But as days grew busier and the shelter took in enough animals to be nearly beyond capacity, another day would slip away and I hadn’t taken him out.  Then I found out normal volunteers are not allowed in the Bite Section at all, because there are not supposed to be adoptable dogs even back there.  As such, there aren’t any dogs for the volunteers to walk, pet, or treat.  Despite the fact Cecil was simply a stray, he was isolated with these other more aggressive dogs, and rarely had a chance for companionship.  (I want to note, this isn’t how the shelter wants things to be, they just don’t have enough kennels, enough floor space, or enough staff to address all the dogs received.)

Cecil was fed, and his kennel was cleaned daily, but no one took him out, no one rubbed behind his ears, and no one ran their hands from the crest of his crown down his long spine to rub that ever so high butt of his that was higher than my waistline.  He just lay waiting and waiting.  Maybe he was waiting for his chance to walk outside, at least get out of his kennel, but I think he was waiting for his parents to come find him in this place he should never have ended up.  No dog gets to the size Cecil was without a family – so where was his now?

Finally, on one day last week I took him out.  I made a bee-line through the shelter avoiding all the pleading sets of eyes, ignoring all the yips and cries, and I went straight to the back with borrowed keys for this area and I asked Cecil if he wanted a walk.  Rising to his royal stature befitting his bloodline, this ever so gentle giant stood, and then lowered his head so I could place the lead around his neck.  Only then had I discovered Cecil had a collar – a novelty for a stray -- so without hesitation I flipped the leash around to the other end and attached it to the ring rather than subjugate him to the humility of slipping a lead over his head and around his neck.  Taking him out the back door, I tested his ability to obey commands, or at least respond to the tone of my voice, and discerned whether he would be an easy walk or a trial.  His size alone demands respect, and my experience thus far meant I should size up whether I could handle Cecil or not.  Well, creampuff isn’t the right word, but by comparison to others I’d walked that day, it’s about right.

With almost disbelief on his face, in his eyes, Cecil stepped out of the kennel and looked back at me for indication of where to go.  I motioned with my hand and he found the path without waiting to be shown.  Passing through the large gates around the back of the kennel, Cecil began to take longer steps, increasing his gate, as if to test me back; was he really out of his kennel, was his ordeal finally at an end?  I’m not a trained animal behaviorist, but anyone with eyes could see what Cecil was doing.  Walking him from the back of the shelter and down the long driveway, his head was held high, his ears erect, and his eyes brightened.  He was looking for his way home. 

Now, many dogs walk down this driveway and want to keep going, but they often display a true reckless abandon; they just want to be away from where they were, but they don’t always know where they want to go.  Cecil did.  Whether he was trying to pick up the scent of owners, or simply a yard, he had somewhere he preferred to be and showed intent to discover it. 

Once at the end of the drive, with a busy street ahead, with remorse, I turned Cecil around, and used soothing tones of voice to encourage him to keep walking, even as he knew the direction was not where he wanted to be.  He continued to look over his shoulders as if to indicate, we’ve surely made a wrong turn.  But obligingly Cecil kept walking, although I noticed a shortened gait, and lower ears.  Cecil was intelligent enough to interpret this turn as a direction back to which a kennel nearly the same length as his body awaited.

As you could imagine inadvertently parading with Cecil like this drew stares.  Others wanted to meet this massive canine, get close enough to realize the full size, and be part of his existence.  One family, looking at other canines, changed their perspective entirely and said they would even give Cecil a loving home and come back the very next day for him.  In one fell swoop, the sympathy I felt for Cecil longing to find his parents evaporated as I felt at least, he’d find a new loving family and home of his own.

Quite different from Cecil, the black Mastiff known only as #A11456897 came into the shelter this weekend while I was gone.  I saw him today as soon as I made my way to this end of the shelter.  Larger in size, much larger head, and ferocious bark, this Mastiff is a true ‘Bite Dog.’  This Mastiff mauled a child and was being held in case the child developed further symptoms and for purposes of litigation.  This Mastiff growled, barked, and lunged toward me through the kennel door and made his presence, his territory, and his dislike of my presence in his territory abundantly clear.  Working at the shelter for several weeks now, a bark or lunge rarely intimidates, but this Mastiff is scary.

This Mastiff will likely be put down, and it will probably take several humans to do it.  This Mastiff is in the same kennel that Cecil was, in a similar body even, but is nothing like the other.  His eyes show only distrust and anger where Cecil showed kindness and observation.  Aside from sharing a bloodline, the two canines have no other similarities except for this – terrible owners.  One owner lost his or her dog, the member of their pack they neither placed a tracking chip in nor successfully sought out when Animal Control Officers (ACO) picked them up.  The other owner failed to train their large dog, or perhaps they trained him the worst way possible, but this dog is a danger to his own kind and ours.  Neither dog should have been at this shelter, neither should be hurt or have hurt anyone else – it’s not their breeds’ fault though, it’s our breed to blame.

To my sadness, Cecil died in that kennel from a turned stomach the same night I’d taken him for his one walk.  Even after the volunteers had discovered a rescue group to take him, we weren’t in time.  Cecil died alone, at night, with only a body of remains to mark a life once lived.  The black Mastiff will more than likely also die at this shelter, sharing the same kennel and fate as the other.  They represent to me those pennies, both swept up amid other debris and dirt.  Both had the same potential worth as the other and neither collected from the trash.

Shandy's Shawshank Redemption

Today was the 'emancipation date' for a Shih Tzu named Shandy.  This means when dogs are brought into the shelter by Animal Control Officers (ACO) as a stray, we cannot take them out of their kennel for five days, thus allowing their owners to come looking for and find them and decreasing liability for the shelter.  With the exception of medical care, this means strays must eat, sleep, and eliminate in their kennels without human touch for these days until they are 'emancipated' or available for adoption.

Patiently I waited for Shandy's emancipation date, which is also the date they move from being just a number (A115422309) to being given a name.  First from the kennel, covered in matted hair, she practically leapt into my arms, so happy to be free of her cell.  Smells, covered in burrs, and very wary of her environment, I wasn't sure if she was excited to be out or ready to nip at any hands near her.

What makes this blog about Shandy's Shawshank Redemption, is the rigors she had to endure through a 'normal process' of being picked up a stray and then adopted by new parents.  Whatever she went through being apprehended by ACO, I know not.  Whatever she thought of her five days in the kennel, I'm not sure.  But after being taken out of that kennel by me, I can catalogue one hellacious day in her life I will never forget.

To clean a matted pup like Shandy, we have to anesthetize her.  So quick and skittish, I couldn't determine if she would bite or not when presented in the surgery room as a candidate for a shot so I could work on her.  Thelma, the vet technician with more experience around dogs than I have, didn't wait to see.  She swept Shandy up, injected her in the back hip with the anesthetic, and said 'There you go.'  A quick yelp from Shandy, but it was too late.  To tell us she was being hurt didn't matter when the hurt was already inflicted.  Anesthetic administered in the muscle takes longer to affect the patient than that administered intravenously, so I had to wait to see it take affect of her.  I walked Shandy down the hall, then as I noticed the heaviness of her head increase, and the sleepiness take over, I picked her up.

Laying her on the corner of a table, I had a section of an old blanket for her padding, one pair of Oster clippers, a can of 'clipper spray', a pair of scissors, and paper towels nearby should she vomit or urinate during the 'grooming.'  For an hour and a half I shaved Shandy, working on the matted face, head, legs, and backside.  Her tail was actually five inches shorter than the length of matted hair I shaved off it.  Her ears, which had been matted down to her shoulders, now raised up half-perk.  Her face, a slight snub nose, was now free of gunk and mess, and her eyes were clearly visible.  She was also missing her whiskers - unavoidable when shaving or trimming off matts, and her coat is of varying lengths since I left good patches of hair.  I removed what I had to, and shortened what I could.

Waiting for Shandy to wake from the anesthesia, I wrapped her in a blanket and brought her to the adoption room.  Holding her like a baby, I heard her muffled breathing, and felt her slight twitches and efforts to fight the false sleep and wake to find what was happening to her.  In the adoption room we have a kiddy-pool with blankets I could lay Shandy in while I went about other duties, checking back on her every chance I had.  Soiling her blankets, as anesthetized dogs and cats will do, I lifted her from that pile of garb and wrapped her in a fresh dry towel.  With her in my lap, I did some data entry until she was awake enough to stand on her own.

While still -- what we call 'drunk' -- a woman comes to the shelter based solely on the picture of Shandy with a matted face, and wants to meet her and actually applies to adopt her.  She lost one of her Shi Tzu's recently, and wants to find another for the litter mate still at home -- and the hole in her own heart.  Success at a shelter is a quick adoption.  She seems a wonderful person, accepting of Shandy's temporary lethargy as what it is, drug induced, and sees past the choppy shave I'd given her to the sweet face beneath.  Following her application for adoption, and approval thereof, Shandy was listed on the next days surgery list.

To complete my 'grooming' of her, I bathed Shandy.  In a bathtub also used to clean bowls and dishes, I fill a small plastic bowl with warm water and drape Shandy in it with my hands, as the hose scares most who hear it's serpentine hiss.  Using Dawn dish soap, the few fleas that remain after the shaving drop off dead, and with a plastic cup I slowly pour warm water over Shandy's head and work on the tear-stain and gunk stuck around her eyes.  She doesn't like the bath, but is equally uneasy about the myriad puppies and recovering dogs in this same room, whining, barking, and generally begging for attention.

Clean, but sopping wet, once again I wrap Shandy in fresh dry towels, and hold her in my arms to help warm her.  She was already unnaturally cold from anesthesia, now missing most her coat, and I'd just given her a bath which would further drop her body temperature and increase her discomfort -- this would be a tough day, and then she'd face another one tomorrow.  But without that awareness within a moment Shandy naturally perched on my shoulder and licked my neck.  She was grateful the bath was over, and I was holding her high and away from other dogs in their kennels.  She is a perfect lap dog so content to be in a warm caring embrace.

We go back to the adoption room once again, and I work the towel over her small body, removing what dampness she will allow me as she just leans into me, pleading to be held close.  Once dry and up and about, and since tomorrow she was slated for surgery, the safe place for her is in pre-op.  I begrudgingly placed her in the stainless steel kennels just off the surgery room.  She wanted to stay in my arms and I wanted to keep holding her, but I had other pups to help and other work to be done.

Approximately 30 minutes later, I stopped by to check on Shandy, and she was lethargic, dizzy, and having trouble standing.  There were also a few dark red patches on her skin which alarmed me.  Sweeping her into my arms again, I begin looking into her face and pleading with her to fight, stay with me, and please be ok.  I thought she was having a stroke, too much stress was wearing her out.  Walking to Doc's office, I report what's going on with desperation in my now cracking voice.  I'm emotional while everyone else is calm.  "She's drunk because of the anesthetic I just gave her" says Doc.  "But Why?!" I ask with absolute confusion, "She just recovered from anesthetic from this morning??"  "O, we'll get her surgery in today yet" he said, and then went on with the conversation my entrance to the small office had intruded.  This relieved and alarmed me, two bouts of anesthetic in one day is tough on any dog.

This happens quite a bit to someone new to the shelter like myself.  Why is something happening?  Who is supposed to do this?  Will it get done?  Did it get done?  As it turns out Doc and Thelma had enough time for one more surgery today and decided to fit Shandy in.  So in the same day Shandy was knocked out for a shaving, given a bath, and shown to a stranger who will be her new mom, she's been knocked out again and will be spayed, as all dogs and cats adopted from the shelter must be spayed or neutered prior to release.  I place Shandy back in that kennel, promising she'll be ok, and this will all be better soon.  I hope she couldn't sense the sadness in my voice but rather the hope in my words.

About an hour later, after helping Journey administer medicines to dogs on the main kennel floor, I stop to check on Shandy one more time.  Before I opened the door to the room I could hear she was screaming.  Turning on the light, in her kennel, just waking from surgery and unable to turn off her side and onto her belly, she was in obvious distress and confusion.  Alarmed is not the right word, but desperate more describes how I felt.  Turning her over and finding another towel for her comfort, her cries subside but do not completely quiet.  She is in pain, she is confused, and in one day she has been through a hellacious ordeal.

The red spots on her skin were my fault, a novice groomer trying her best to help dogs, it's called clipper burn.  Thelma applied ointment to her, and they'll be gone in a day or two, but they add to one full day of stress for Shandy.  Tonight she sleeps alone in that kennel, completely unsure why we've done everything we did to her.  She'll be sore from the operation, the shots given, the vaccinations administered, and the burns inflicted.  This time tomorrow she'll be in a loving home with a new best buddy all within one week of Shandy's life.

I won't see her again, won't be able to hold her or make up for today's treatment with tenderness or kisses.  I've helped her on this terrible journey from stray to pet, and she's left an indelible impression on my heart.  Like being falsely imprisoned and finding her escape, it's a place she should have never been in and I'm so much more at peace to know she should never be back -- but somehow I still feel we've let her down, she should never have been at the shelter in the first place.  I hope her previous 'owners' lose sleep too, feel pains in their stomachs, and itches on their skin with any amount of worry where their Shih Tzu ever got off to.

Beetle Got Adopted!!!

Finally, something really happy to share with anyone reading this.  Beetle, the adult pit bull terrier mix that was a 'long-timer' at the shelter is finally going home.  I’d begun to think I was the only human still connected to this big energetic boy, as several other volunteers were getting too exhausted walking him. 

Beetle and I worked out a deal, wearing a red harness that is so beautiful against his dark brindle coloring, he pulled me up the hill at a running clip and I brought biscuits for the rare moment he stopped to sniff, eliminate, and receive a well-deserved ‘Good Outside, Beetle’ from me.

Running for 20 minutes solid, then playing in the field at the top of the hill became my daily ‘thing’ with this great guy.  I found out how much he likes to jump and chase, and how wide his pitty-bull mouth smiles when I straddled him between my legs and rubbed his neck and talked to him like the baby he is at heart and told him he was good, he was sweet, and he was worth loving.

In the field, he gladly ran in circles as I pulled anything in front of him to chase.  He is just so happy to be alive – you feel the vibe within minutes in his presence.

Shockingly, in the tub while I bathed him, he was so obliging I have to believe he’s had many baths before and knew the routine.  Not only did he stand, sit, and take the bath with patience, he gave me his first kiss at the end.  I was as proud as any temporary mother could be.

The couple who is becoming Beetle’s parents seem nice enough.  She is pretty, young, and has a sweet voice.  He'll love her baby-talk to him.  He seems strong enough to give Beetle the appropriate love and discipline he’ll need.  His tattooed arms and close haircut struck me as ‘tough guy’ until I heard the boyish enthusiasm in his voice when he yelled at me ‘We’re getting that dog.’

I don’t know if that guy knew his words would make me tear up.  I’m so happy for Beetle, and at the same time I’m going to miss him so much.  But isn’t that how things should be?  I’m in the shelter, the place dogs shouldn’t be for as long as this kid was, and now he’s going to a forever home.  When I talked to Sharon, another volunteer, and told her the good news, she said ‘I know, isn’t he great?!’  And then I realized, Beetle has meant a lot of things to many people, not just me, and the world is a luckier place with him in it.

Good luck Beetle – forever in my heart!

Why Don't Dogs Hate Us?

As anyone can imagine, remaining positive and channeling my own time and energy into 'the good I can do' is an effort unto itself.  After several weeks of volunteering I’ve gone through the emotional initiation anyone would.  From seeing so many pleading sets of eyes behind bars desperate just for a touch if not a chance to get out for a walk, to helping Animal Control Officers (ACO) intake strays, seizures for cruelty or neglect, and owners ‘surrendering’ their pet for a variety of reasons, to moving animals around as we prepare them for transport to a rescue, and bringing animals to the front of the house for their adoptive parents to take them home and away from this desperate place, it takes a toll on you each hour of every day.  But because there is so much to be done, you stick these emotions in your jeans pockets where they stay until at end of day you sit in your car and they come poking out like your cell phone and the dog biscuit you never gave.

As hard as it is to accept, it feels good to leave the shelter.  It’s a relief to not see those eyes, not hear the barking, the mewing from the cats, and not smell the waste from all the kennels.  It’s a quiet gift not to hear the cries as we stuck them with needles for their shots, physically assessed them for injuries which – once discovered – betrayed the trust the animal has for you when all you’re trying to do is help. 

Driving away, a deep breath and clean air comes in your nose, the radio is a calm decibel, and you’re getting closer to your shower and changing out of the uniform of despair, dirt and grunge.

Your car is nice, I wonder how many dogs had been saved if I’d not bought one this cool and gave the money to subsidize spay and neuter operations here in town.  That guy has a Corvette, a show-off car that appears unnecessary, as it’s likely only out of the garage on sunny days.  Why didn’t he give money to the shelter instead of a car dealer?  That girl passing me in her Honda, talking on the cell phone and lighting a cigarette – she’s totally absorbed in herself.  Doesn’t she know what’s happening three miles to the west of our location? 

Pulling into my secured garage, every loft in my building is considered ‘luxury.’  What if we’d lived in less luxurious surroundings and all the people here gave more to help shelters sponsor ‘Free Spay and Neuter Day!’

Going out with friends at night, I see restaurants filled with couples, bars overfull with groups of friends, and store after store of merchandise that’s marked-up so much it feels ridiculous anyone pays full price.  Skipping the appetizer, one less round of drinks, and wearing last season's t-shirt; this money could have saved hundreds of dogs -- HUNDREDS.  Are they totally unaware, or don't they want to know.  Part of me wishes I didn't know, but the other part wants them ALL TO BE AWARE.

Watching ‘The Apprentice’ on TV and I literally feel angry toward the whining, bitching, moaning and pathetic efforts they put forth to show ‘I’m an amazing person’ when all they are is unemployed scrappers trying to make huge sums of money when they could be volunteering at a shelter for no money but doing something that will really make a difference.

Then I think that these people are no more close to the problems than the other people directly involved.  The owners that kept their dog chained in the back yard until she was so matted we didn’t even know there was a collar until we started shaving her under anesthesia.  The owners that didn’t neuter their male pit bull who got out, killed a neighbor dog, and now sits in the bite section of the kennel until we know if he bit any human who might have gotten rabies.  The owners that surrendered their three cats because they took an apartment that doesn’t allow pets.  The owners who did something horrible, something we can’t imagine, which made their dog so afraid after several days they still go to the back of their kennel rather than be touched by one of ‘US’ again.

I begin to hate our species for what we’ve done to their species.  We let dogs and cats die by the thousands in Kansas City, but still seek out Christmas Puppies and think cats can take care of themselves outside.  We don’t train our own dogs and then complain about a ticket for the injury they inflicted on a neighbor child.  We bring dogs and cats, puppies and kittens to the shelter rather than find them homes because we don’t want to fix the problem ourselves.  We, as a species, are the worst thing to every other species on the planet.

Today while my two friends who do grooming volunteered their Sunday morning to shave the incredibly matted Chow, I walked Beetle and Tabitha.  These two dogs ran and played, jumped for joy and licked for gratitude.  They nuzzled into my legs as I pet and ran my hands down their soft short fur.  Beetles ears were cropped to his head so he could be a fighting dog, but he still loves it when I rub where they should have been.  Tabitha was neglected and starved and her ribs still show through, but she can’t wait to raise up on hind legs to get closer to my touch, my hugs and rubs.  I don’t know why they both show me love every time I am near, why their species hasn’t completely given up on mine, but they seem to hope for a home, hope for pet-parents, and just hope every hour of every day that it might be their last in this loud and obnoxious surrounding. 

They still have hope for my species, that we’ll take the awesome responsibility of being top of the food chain and be better than we have been.  I obviously need to keep learning from these two dogs who will sit in 3 x 3 kennels for the next 16 hours and hope Monday brings enough volunteers they’ll at least get a chance to get out and feel the sun, or at the least not eliminate in the same space they eat, sleep and hope.