I hope you had a good day today. I hope I have a good one tomorrow.
It's hard to have a good day when all around you there is desperation. At the large municipal animal shelter where I spend my days, it's not easy to have a good day. It's not a county-run shelter, it's a humane society. It's been around since 1925 so I figure they know what they're doing. More educated minds than mine are working on the problem of homeless animals and yet they still keep coming.
I blame Bush.
I do. I blame him because in this horrendous, reprehensible economy, people are losing their homes. Their houses are getting foreclosed, and people are becoming desperate. Oh we all love to say that animals are part of the family, but which member of the family do you think is the first to go when the house is being taken away? It's not little Emily or Stephen. It's Rover or Fluffy. We have more lovely, adoptable, pampered animals in our shelter than I have ever seen before. They are cute, they are smart, and they are confused. I see their sad faces, I look into the eyes of these animals who, just last week, were lounging on someone's couch, running by someone's side or begging at someone's table. Their haunting eyes tell the story. They're confused, they're sad, they don't understand why they are in such a strange place, surrounded by strangers and kept at bay by iron bars and cement blocks.
How can you go to work when this is what you face day after day after day? How can you not? These animals need hope, they need friendship, and they need a new home. When it's your job to be that friend, provide that hope, and find that home, you don't stay home, you yearn to get in there and do your job because you know you can't rest until you do.
I doubt that pet stores, with their overpriced, underbred, genetically-needy dogs, are faring much better. But if anyone is still purchasing a dog at a petstore, shame on them. If anyone is still breeding dogs and selling them, shame on them. We don't need to bring more dogs into the world when shelters are overloaded, full to the max with perfectly healthy, well-adjusted, adoptable dogs.
You know, it's those eyes. You look into the gentle, benevolent brown eyes of a sweet-tempered yellow lab and you can almost hear the plea: "Can you take me out of this cage now and bring me back to my family please? I don't like it here. It's noisy, and it smells bad. I miss my bed, my toys, my humans." And you want to fling open the cage door and fly to the door and open it wide and say RUN, RUN, RUN AWAY TO FREEDOM but of course you can't do that because they would no sooner be out the door when they are hit by a car, or picked up by some sicko. So you try to explain it. You tell them, "you're safe here" you say "we will take good care of you here" and you mean it with all your heart but still, they look right through you, into your very heart and soul, and plead, "let me out, please, I want to go home now."
It takes everything you have not to throw them all in the car and bring 'em home. But of course, even if you could do that, the next day the shelter would be full of homeless dogs and cats again, and then what?
I think it's the cats for whom I feel the most sympathy. The dogs, at least, get to go for a walk now and then. They get to feel the fresh air and sunshine. The cats, well, they live for months and months in a sterile, steel-bank cage, no bigger than an open newspaper. They cannot walk, or climb, or scratch, or even play very well. All they can do is sleep. We have an awful lot of beautiful cats. Of course, all cats are beautiful. But the cats seem to be getting more beautiful all the time. They are bigger, somehow, and fluffier, and their eyes are green or blue or gold and wise beyond light years. I spend as much time as I can with them but it's never, ever enough. And then, when I go home to my own cats, I hug them just a little tighter, feed them just a few more "mouse bites" and linger with them just a little longer. I cannot imagine my sweet tiny Siamese, or my huge orange tomcat, or my little white 'fraidy cat ever spending even an hour in a place like that. And yet, here are a hundred or more, just like them, enduring life in a cage. It's not the shelter's fault. They do the best with what they have to work with. Nobody likes to see them in cages. But what can we do?
I had lunch with a friend of mine today who is an animal cruelty officer with the Sheriff's office. She told me about the newest fad, "Trunking". If you think what Michael Vick did was bad, you're going to really hate this. This is where they lock two fighting dogs in a trunk, drive around the city with their boom-boxes blaring, and take bets on which dog is left alive when they open the trunk.
So yeah, as much as I hate to see them in cages, I know they are much safer with us than out on their own, or even with a family who won't make a commitment to them. If I can't find a dog or cat a good forever home, maybe it's better to send him off to the Rainbow Bridge. It's kinder. The animal suffers no more. But of course, it haunts forever those who have to do administer the blue juice that sends them on their way. It's never an easy fix.
My job, as a humane educator, is to go out in the community and into the schools and convince everyone that the shelter is the place to get your pet, and do it now, quickly, because euthanasia looms like a eagle in flight, ever ready to dip and dive below and pluck some unfortunate, unwary little critter out of the sky. I must be happy and cheerful and positive and upbeat. After all, I work with kids, most of the time.
And you can't fool kids. Kids know. They always know. So if I think they see the desperation in my eyes, they do. And if I think they hear the desperation in my voice, they do.
And maybe they can somehow get through to their parents and teach them to be kinder to animals. Maybe they can start by voting for someone who will turn this economy around. Maybe, just maybe, our next new president will be responsible for keeping families in their homes. Every member of the family. Every day. Every time.
Oh, and vote Obama. He promised his kids if they get into the White House he would get them a dog. He promised US that the dog would be a shelter dog. What a fine example that would set! So for the sake of shelter pets, the economy and the world, please vote Obama.
Bye Ce
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