ETHICAL DILEMMAS FACING ANIMAL SHELTERS

Welcome to my first post, giving an insider's look at issues pertaining to animal shelters. I will be sharing a new personal essay every Sunday for the next 10 weeks.

On my 30^th birthday, after years of slogging through meaningless office temp jobs that did nothing to feed my soul, I landed my dream job as a shelter caseworker for a well known animal rights organization.

My first day at work, I was intoxicated by the passion and determination of my new colleagues: a young crowd of dedicated animal rights activists who worked 60-hour weeks for very little pay and loved every minute of it.

My new job was to work with animal shelters across the country, to improve those that were substandard, and to educate the public about the shelter system and companion animal welfare.

I came to the position misinformed about what constitutes a responsible, humane shelter. Like many people, I thought that “no kill” shelters were “good,” and “kill shelters” were “bad.”

I quickly learned that shelters erroneously called “kill shelters” are actually “open admission” facilities. And these facilities serve an important and valuable role in animal welfare for their communities.

I learned that open admission shelters, as the name suggests, take in any animal who needs care. Most city municipal shelters are open admission, thankfully, so every animal who is homeless, abandoned, or confiscated from an abusive situation has a place to go.

Most open admission shelters are required to hold animals for at least a week before euthanizing them. Many animals remain for much longer periods of time. But, since these shelters have a never-ending flow of animals coming in, they do run out of room, and animals who have been there a long time or who have behavioral issues that make finding homes for them difficult, are by necessity euthanized.

As sad as that reality is, open admission shelters are important. Without them, there would be strays all over our cities, there would be animals suffering on the street, sick and starving. There would be no place for animals rescued from dogfighting rings or other abusive situations to go. Open admission shelters ensure that they all have a chance.

“No kill shelters” are actually “limited admission shelters.” They do not euthanize animals, so when they are full, unlike open admission shelters, they must turn animals away. Many of these facilities take in animals with medical issues and provide veterinary care. But since they don’t euthanize, some animals, especially those with medical or behavioral problems, do not find forever homes, and wind up living in kennels for years.

And some limited admission shelters, believing that any home is better than euthanasia, resort to adopting out animals to people who are not good candidates for humane care, including those planning to use dogs as chained guards or even those who have been convicted of animal cruelty.

Because of this, the animal rights organization’s party line was that ALL limited admission facilities are misguided. But I wasn’t so sure.

My belief is that there are many great shelters throughout the country, both open admission and limited admission, providing excellent care and standing as examples to other facilities. Shelters do society’s dirty work, taking in animals neglected, abused, and unwanted, and giving them food, shelter from the street, and love. I believe that, ideally, open admission shelters and limited admission shelters should work together to help the most animals possible.

But in my job as shelter caseworker for the animal rights group, I was also exposed to the dark side of the shelter system.

I frequently received complaints about substandard “no kill” shelters. Some of these places were actually hoarding situations, with animals stuffed in filthy travel crates in someone’s basement for years, with no hope of getting out. Since the public confuses “no kill” with “humane,” these places often received money and kudos from the community, and no one realized how inhumane the conditions were.

I also dealt with methods of euthanasia at open admission shelters. Veterinarians agree that intravenous injection of sodium pentobarbital is the most humane method of euthanasia. Yet there were some shelters I worked with that practiced intracardiac injection, because it’s easier than finding a vein, resulting in the animals’ painful cardiac arrest.

Still other shelters around the country I worked to improve used carbon monoxide gas chambers to put animals down. The animals were put in a box, sensing the fear pheromones that previous animals had exuded, and the gas was piped into the chamber.

Occasionally I even encountered animal control departments in rural areas that shot animals or even drowned them.

I also discovered that in communities that did not have an open admission shelter, when animals were turned away from the limited admission facilities due to lack of space, the animals were often abandoned in fields, tied to lampposts, or thrown out a car window on a deserted highway.

When I started work at the animal rights organization, frankly I had no idea what I was doing. I worked sixty hours a week as a shelter caseworker, and I barely made a dent in the backlog of complaints that always sat on my desk. But over time, I learned that the ideal situation for achieving success in these cases was to partner with local activists, usually the people who had filed the complaint, and do what I could from my office.

I wrote letters to county commissioners, urging them to allocate funds and work with me to find solutions to their local shelter’s problems. Occasionally I traveled to communities and met with activists as well as officials.

“We have children in this county who don’t have food or running water,” county officials often told me. “And you want us to spend money on stray cats and dogs?”

What could I say to that? Sometimes I left meetings like this in tears.

I also did dozens of radio and television interviews, educating the local public about issues pertaining to shelter animals. I worked with local vets to recruit them to treat shelter animals free of charge. I wrote hundreds of letters to the editors of local newspapers, shining a light on problems the public probably wasn’t even aware of. If necessary, I sometimes tried to enlist local District Attorneys to press cruelty charges against county governments that failed to improve shelter conditions.

My victories were hard won, but sadly few and far between. A victory for me was convincing a municipal shelter to stop intracardiac injection or gassing, and sending animal control officers to training to learn how to properly euthanize. Another victory would involve accumulating enough evidence about substandard hoarding conditions at a “no kill” shelter and convincing humane law enforcement agencies to raid the place and confiscate the suffering animals.

In these situations, I learned that the people facilitating the hoard sometimes didn’t realize how bad things were. They really thought they were helping these animals, convinced that keeping them alive under gruesome circumstances was better than putting them down.

But the horrific conditions I witnessed convinced me that euthanasia is a better outcome for an animal than living for years in a filthy crate in a dark closet, with no medical treatment for eye infections, skin disorders, or respiratory illness.

Still, I was dismayed by the party line at my job that ALL limited admission shelters are “bad,” and that euthanasia is ALWAYS the best alternative. Yes, my colleagues and I were exposed to heartbreaking cruelty every day, enough to make anyone realize that there are certainly fates worse than death. But I still believed that good, limited admission shelters serve an important role in the animal shelter system, and that if we can find a home for an animal who has suffered, it is worth the effort.

I had to keep my opinion to myself. I had seen other staffers ostracized and even fired for disagreeing on this issue with the President.

The organization had a rescue team, and they frequently brought in animals confiscated from abusive situations, such as dogs kept on heavy chains with no food, water, or shelter.

One morning, the rescue team brought in a black chow mix who had outgrown his collar, which was now embedded in his neck. After working for a half hour to cut it off, we were so happy to see him joyfully running around the office.

“I can foster this dog,” I told the rescuers. He had suffered so much; I felt he deserved a second chance. But later that day, the dog disappeared.

Soon after, the President of the organization told me that I needed to learn how to euthanize animals. I went with the rescue team to the shed on the side of the main office building.

They had brought in a wiggly, stinky litter of three-month-old puppies. And I watched them inject the hypodermic needle into each of these young, adoptable animals, wait for the light to go out in their eyes, and then put the bodies in the freezer. When I looked in the freezer, I saw the dead, embedded-collar dog wrapped in a clear garbage bag.

Why did they euthanize him, when I offered to foster him? Why didn’t they take these puppies to the local animal shelter, to give them a chance?

Then the rescue team insisted that I euthanize a kitten. They showed me how to insert the needle intraperitoneally, check for blood coming back into the needle, and then inject the sodium pentobarbital.

My hands shaking, I did as they instructed. As the drug took effect, I watched the little animal stop moving and then go limp. I watched the rescue team place her body in the freezer, as well.

I certainly agreed with my employers that there are fates much worse than death, and times when euthanasia is a better alternative than a life of suffering. But in these cases, I felt that these perfectly adoptable animals should have been given a chance. That euthanasia isn’t ALWAYS the best alternative.

But I had to keep this to myself. I certainly couldn’t risk senior staff finding out that I disagreed with their policies. I went into the bathroom and had a good cry about killing the kitten. Then I went back to work.

The organization also advocated euthanizing ALL pit bulls, the theory being that these dogs too frequently wind up in abusive situations, like dogfighting rings. And they opposed the TSNR (Trap-Spay-Neuter-Release) efforts of other animal welfare groups, theorizing that cats rereleased may fall victim to cruelty, illness, or starvation.

Over time I came to realize that the ultimate goal of this organization was the elimination of all domesticated animals. When I told my supervisor I wouldn’t like to live in a world without dogs and cats, she curtly said that as long as these animals exist, there will be people who abuse them.

Not surprisingly, I burned out at the caseworker job after two years.

And, I was tired of sitting in an ivory tower philosophizing about what was best for animals. I wanted to work on the front lines.

I moved back to New York and began volunteering at limited admission shelters.

For the past three years I have worked at the same shelter. This shelter is among the best I have ever encountered. They work closely with the NYC Animal Care Centers, taking in animals who might have had to be euthanized, and provide excellent care for them. The cooperation between the city open admission shelter and this limited admission shelter creates a perfect symbiotic relationship, helping to maximize the chances of all the animals involved.

Animals like the embedded-collar dog at the animal rights organization, or the puppies and kitten that I saw euthanized there, have a chance at this shelter, and many wonderful animals find forever homes because of our work.

Thinking back to the animal rights group’s policy that ALL limited admission shelters are misguided, I have come to be very grateful that facilities like this exist.

The staff at this limited admission shelter is dedicated and wonderful. The kennels and catteries are kept immaculately clean, and cats and dogs are able to socialize with other animals and have playtime and walks. Trainers work with animals with behavioral issues, increasing their chances of getting adopted.

The shelter is well-funded and able to provide veterinary care for animals who arrive with cancer, skin disorders, or wounds from abusive situations prior to finding their way to the shelter. This non-profit also takes in animals from overcrowded, underfunded shelters down South, including some places I encountered in my caseworker position. Other animals come all the way from the Caribbean, where there is a terrible stray situation and few open admission shelters.

Volunteers are the backbone of the limited admission shelter I work at. We clean kennels, wash bowls, walk dogs, socialize with the animals, take them to the vet, and foster some of them in our homes. We also meet with prospective adopters and help staff find a good match among the animals in our care. We only adopt out animals to people we have carefully vetted and have proved to be responsible caretakers.

The shelter I work at has a policy that volunteers cannot adopt an animal until they have worked there for at least six months. I quickly learned the reason why. When I started, I wanted to adopt all of the dogs I cared for. I had to learn to toughen up, because I didn’t want to burn out the way I did with the caseworker job. I wouldn’t be any help to the animals if I was overcome by the sadness of the animals behind kennel doors, always looking at us with hopeful eyes, wondering when someone will take them to their forever home.

The only way to function in this environment is to put my sadness on the shelf, at least for my shift, and focus on all the shelter’s amazing success stories. But many nights I have been in tears, thinking about the plight of the dogs I took care of that day.

My heart breaks especially for the old-timers at the shelter, many of whom have serious medical or behavioral issues. Some of them have been at the shelter for several years, always waiting, never going home.

Maurice is a sweet lab mix who has an esophageal condition that requires him to sit in a special chair when he eats. He’s been at the shelter for four years and rarely gets any adoption inquiries. And Sandy is a paralyzed pup, recently outfitted with a wheelchair, who has spent her life at the shelter.

I am grateful for the chance the shelter has given these wonderful animals. But sometimes I wonder if euthanasia might be a more humane option than keeping them in a kennel for the rest of their lives. I have become attached to these amazing dogs and would be devastated to see them euthanized. But, is a life in a cage a fate worse than death? And, would money be better spent by freeing up these kennels to take in other animals who need shelter but may be more adoptable?

It’s something I continue to struggle with.

The animal shelter system in general is flawed, not without controversy, and complicated. Most people really don’t understand these issues, which shelter workers confront every day. But there are many things the average person can do to improve the animal overpopulation crisis.

First and foremost, adopt, don’t buy.

Spay/neuter all companion animals.

Foster shelter animals, and work to improve local facilities that may be substandard.

In the past year, such cooperation from the public has become even more imperative. Animal shelters across the country, including the shelter I work for, have seen record numbers of surrenders, and are stretched beyond full capacity. With many families experiencing economic hardship, animals become the last priority for households. And, many people who acquired animals during the pandemic are now abandoning them as they return to their busy lives.

Things are so bad lately, the NYC Animal Care Centers (NYC’s open admission shelter system) have had to make the difficult decision to close all their facilities to surrendered animals because their resources are stretched so thin.

With city shelters unable to fulfill their mission as a refuge for any animal who needs help, we are likely to see more animals dumped in parks or on the side of the highway. In the midst of this crisis, there’s simply no place for animals in any of these situations to go.

Please, if you care about animals, join your local shelters in being part of the solution.