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.