Shy Fox

Let me tell you something about working with shelter/rescue dogs.

Everyone-EVERYONE-myself not excluded-goes in believing they’re going to save the world. 

Here’s the reality: You’re not. And you can’t. You’re not even going to be able to make a dent in the shit that happens to these beautiful and pure creatures. Knowing this will destroy you without question.

For every one you save, there are at least a thousand others that lived their lives being beaten and/or neglected only to end their lives being injected with sodium thiopental in the arms of a stranger on a cold stainless steel table, if they’re even that lucky. Everyone will tell you it’s a peaceful and painless death. They are either lying or luckily ignorant.

The dogs know when they are going to die from the second you come up to their kennel with a nylon slip lead. Most of the time, these are perfectly healthy, young dogs with minor flaws (e.g. jumping too much, pulling hard on the leash, being dog reactive, etc). When the uniformed worker shows up, the dog cowers in the corner of the kennel and will sometimes give a warning bark or growl. They plant their feet into the ground and refuse to walk inside, nipping at the leash or urinating on the ground out of panic. When they’re finally inside, they’re muzzled immediately by the euthanasia tech, which takes away their only method of defense, sending them into more panic. Sometimes the dogs, at this point, knowing they are completely helpless, will flail around. To save time, these dogs will be immediately restrained and quickly given the injection. These dogs die scared out of their minds, held down by complete strangers that are so used to seeing this that they don’t even flinch. Not to bash these people: they are doing what they have to do. Becoming desensitized to it is the only way they can get by without going completely insane.

This is something that will happen to dogs you know and love EVERY SINGLE DAY, and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. You, as someone who dedicated large parts of your life to trying to improve the shitty lives of these dogs, know from all the times you hand-fed them the best treats you could find, took them on walks, gave them mini-back rubs in their kennels to unsuccessfully try and relax them, that they were great dogs with a lot of potential. You know they could’ve been loving family members if anyone would’ve given them a chance. 

Sometimes, staff is kind enough to let you say good bye before they are killed. You will enter their kennel, and because they recognize you, their tail will thump against their little plastic cot and they will roll over for belly rubs. Your hands will shake as you scratch their warm tummies, and you may start bawling right then and there–the ugly cry, the kind with snot and popping veins. The cry of defeat. You’ve got to learn not to cry, for the dog’s sake. They worry about you and begin to stress. They will nuzzle you and lick your tears in an effort to comfort you. This is fucked up in a multitude of ways, because you know that you’re not the one who’s about to die in the way described above. You either learn not to cry, or you stop yourself from saying goodbyes. For me, I had to stop with goodbyes. It feels selfish, but if you can’t control yourself from showing obvious signs of sadness, you make the dog worried in their last hour. I can’t control myself, even now. The only difference is that I’ve learned to cry in the privacy of my room, where no one else suffers with me. 

Working with dogs is also the best way to launch you into misanthropy. It really is true what they say: for every death of a dog in a shelter, there is a human somewhere responsible. If you work with the shelter, chances are that you have access to all the records and notes made about each individual dog. You’ll see the owner surrender notes on dogs. Every single one of the pieces of shit that gave up their dog shirks any sort of responsibility. They note that, no, they do NOT want to be contacted if their dog is put on the “kill list”. They want to dump the dog and let it be out of sight, out of mind. Just about every single one of the surrenders are given up for transparently avoidable reasons: 

I’m moving. 

I’m having a baby and I don’t want to deal with the inconvenience of a dog and a child at the same time.

I don’t have time for a dog.

The dog is barking/digging in the back yard and pissing off the neighbors. I do not want to invest in training or even taking the initiative to put this dog inside, so I’d rather it die here alone.

When offered alternatives to literally leaving a dog who trusts and loves them unconditionally, they turn them down because it’s not easy or a “quick fix”.

Then, there’s the abuse cases. You meet dogs with acid burns on their backs and broken necks who want nothing more than to kiss your face. You meet yippy pit mix puppies that were bred for fighting that have their ears completely cut off. You meet hound dogs that were left to starve on the end of a heavy chain. You meet dogs that are so far gone that the kindest thing you can do for them is have them euthanized. You ask staff what has and could be done to the abusers, and usually it’s not much more than a slap on the hand. You then cry tears of frustration, confused as to why people who have it in them to severely hurt innocent and completely defenseless beings are allowed to roam the earth without being locked up for more than a few months. The feeling you get when you see dogs so weak and sick that they can barely lift their bony heads, yet use all their strength to greet you, will always haunt you. In short, the ASPCA commercials you see are not nearly as graphic and horrendous as the things you will see.

And then, there’s the most common cause of hatred for fellow humans to brew in the pit of your stomach: apathy. Once you’ve seen the abused and the abandoned, you can’t help but care to the point where your very core aches. You are so horrified that you can’t look away anymore. You’re way past that point. And that’s where your problem lies: you care too much, and no one else cares enough. You try and do everything you can to make them see; to make them feel; but nothing you say or show them is enough. They ingest what you tell them, but they do not feel compelled to do anything. You’re left wondering how other humans can be so enveloped with frivolous matters like who they’re going to fuck next and how much weed they’ll smoke this weekend with their friends, but can’t seem to care about the tremendous amounts of pain that others undergo. You never figure that one out, I’m sorry to say. So instead, all the aching care you bear in your chest turns to pure hatred for other people. 

When you finally reach the realization that, no, you aren’t really ever going to make a difference like so much propaganda teaches you that you can, you feel exactly how I do now. Helpless. Hopeless. 

This feelings will never leave you, and will eat you up from the inside out.

I’m sorry this isn’t encouraging or positive in the least. I just had to get this off my chest. 

blusunday:

PLEASE REBLOG!

thetrueamericanbreed:

Manhattan

WHITNEY - ID#A0927215

FEMALE, BLUE / WHITE, PIT BULL MIX, 10 mos
STRAY - STRAY WAIT, NO HOLD Reason STRAY
Intake condition NONE Intake Date 03/22/2012, From NY 10452, DueOut Date 03/25/2012

Medical Behavior Evaluation GREEN
Medical Summary SCAN NEGATIVE BRIGHT, ALERT, RESPONSIVE, HYDRATED PHYSICAL EXAM Thin under weight need to feed 3x a day Dirty ears cleaned Nosf
Weight 26.0

A volunteer writes:
It is almost impossible not to fall in love with sweet Whitney. She is a youngster, only ten months of age and life has not been good to her. Indeed, Whitney has been robbed of her puppyhood, Her owners have left her to starve, without care and ultimately abandoned her in the street. Whitney belongs to a soft pillow and the lap of a loving master. She needs to run after a ball and leap though the Central Park great lawn. Whitney is with us right now. She is liked by many and her behavior as been rated as excellent. Despite her extreme emaciation, she is pretty in her gray coat and matching gentle eyes. Her nails are extremely long and yellow. She was probably kept indoor or in a crate although , Whitney is quite good on the leash. She is a good listener. Whitney is the ultimate lap dog. She is very affectionate and showers her caretaker with kisses. Whitney won my heart… I hope that just like me, you will be touched by her. Whitney is at the Manhattan Care Center, wishing upon a star.