Hu·mane
adjective
Characterized
by tenderness, compassion, and sympathy for people and animals,
especially for the suffering or distressed
synonyms
Merciful, kind, kindly, kindhearted,
tender, compassionate, gentle, sympathetic; benevolent, benignant,
charitable
antonyms
Brutal
I started working for the
Amarillo-Panhandle Humane Society just about a year ago, give or take
a couple of weeks. I was already somewhat familiar with the facility,
having performed my volunteer hours there in order to gain my
Certification to become a Dog Trainer. In addition to that, I'd been
there several times just being a resident of Amarillo.
The Humane Society is essentially the
adoption arm of Amarillo's Animal Control. APHS is housed on the same
property as Animal Control, and must therefore abide by the City's
rules and regulations. This means it is a kill facility.
When a stray animal is picked up by
Animal Control, it has three days to be reclaimed by its owners. If
it has a name tag, rabies tag, or microchip, the owners are contacted
and have five days to retrieve their animal. Unfortunately, the
identifiable pets are in the minority. (There are a total of 8
buildings on the property with one reserved for tagged animals; the
building is smaller and usually has the fewest dogs in it.) Even
then, the owners often refuse to pay the impoundment fees and leave
their animals there to die.
The lucky ones who are extended by the
Humane Society are granted an extra five day stay in hopes that the
small amount of time will be enough to find them a new, loving home.
Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't. Through breed specific
rescues and external foster programs, an additional number of animals
get a ticket out. Because of the Humane Society's new Executive
Director and the staff she assembled, adoption rates are higher and
euthanasia rates were lower while I was there than they had been in
the history of its existence.
Saving lives was important work for me.
It was also the hardest work I've ever done. Not just physically
(working outside in snow or 100+ degree heat, carrying huge dogs who
refuse to walk on a leash because they're so frightened they just
shut down), but mentally and emotionally. The staff tried to prepare
me for what I was about to endure with pep-talks and warnings... but
no amount of second-hand stories can prepare you for the horror or
the atrocities that humans do to animals on a daily basis.
My first day on the job, I went with a
co-worker to pick up a litter of kittens from the vet. The vet had
diagnosed them with feline leukemia. Perfectly happy and healthy
kittens are euthanized every day because there aren't enough homes.
We certainly couldn't adopt out the sick ones. We took them directly
to the EU room and my partner asked me, “Do you want to wait and
watch?” Do I want to watch them die? That's enough for day one,
thanks. I'll skip it. (Although I would later carry several animals
back who were severely injured and hold them while they were injected
so that they would know someone was with them. I figured if it was
going to be their last breath, they should know that someone cared.
Even if it made me cry.)
At the end of my first week, I was
given a stack of “yellows” (the carbon copy we received of the
intake form from Animal Control) and told to go match them up to the
puppies in the kennels of the puppy building. If there wasn't a dog
matching the description on the sheet, I marked a blue line through
it and kept counting. Those puppies hadn't been adopted. They hadn't
been reclaimed. I was counting dead puppies. I drank myself to sleep
that night.
Some time during my first month, a
family came in to reclaim their missing pit bull. I was relieved,
knowing that more of those die than any other type of dog. One more
reclaim is one less death sentence. I went to the kennel with the
family to leash their dog and could tell the dog was horribly
frightened, even at the sight of his own family. Something was wrong.
What dog wouldn't be happy to finally see his family and get busted
out of jail? As we got closer to the door of the Humane Society, one
of the bigger kids said something ugly and kicked the dog. I stopped,
stuck my finger in his face, and said as sternly as I could without
yelling, “Do NOT kick the dog!” He was stunned for a second but I
could tell it hadn't made much of a difference. Within a few minutes, I
found out why. I watched the dad of the family drag the dog out to
their truck, pick him up by the skin of his neck and his back legs,
and pile drive him face first into the bed of the truck. I was
FURIOUS.
I went next door to Animal Control to
tell them what I'd seen. “Isn't anybody gonna DO anything!?”
Nope. According to Texas state law, the dog is that man's property.
He can do anything to it that he wants. I was told to let it go. Walk
away. Don't get involved. It's none of your business. “If you
actually CARE about this job, you'll lose your damn mind.” The
Director of AC tried to console me by telling me to give it about a
week and if I still remembered, I could have an officer dispatched to
their address to do a welfare check on the dog. I wasn't going to
forget.
Exactly one week later, I asked
dispatch to send an officer out for a welfare check. The dog was
outside on a chain, dead in their yard. No tickets. No charges of
animal cruelty. No prosecution. NOTHING. “Let it go?” I couldn't.
I came home that night and vented my
frustrations on Facebook. I posted a video of L7's song “Shit List”
with a caption naming the owners of the dog. “This is for …...
whose dog is dead now because I didn't stab them in the face when I
had the chance.” (The face stabbing isn't really a thing I would
have done. I admit I was being emotional.) Animal Control supervisors
saw it and called MY supervisor who then called me and said I had
been instructed to remove it immediately. “They might know she
posted it, and we can't have that.” I was actually hoping that
someone I knew would forward it to them. I wanted them to know I
posted it. I wanted them to know that someone was watching and that
what they had done was deplorable. Legally, I wasn't even allowed to
publicly humiliate them. Within a week, my supervisor had a new list
of employee regulations and guidelines we all had to sign, including
the promise that we would never speak of or mention anything
regarding business of the shelter in public or on social media.
I cried almost every day. Every face
behind every kennel trying to claw their way out while screaming for
affection would seep their story into my soul. The heart-wrenching
indifference of humans was turning me into one of those animals who
saw people as the predators. Because I cared - just as I had been
warned - my sanity was in serious jeopardy.
I was regularly called a “murderer”
for working in a kill shelter. It didn't matter that I poured
everything I had into my job and often went above and beyond what it
took to get every animal I could into a decent home. Nobody who works
for the Humane Society or Animal Control WANTS to see animals die.
They certainly don't enjoy it. An overwhelming majority of them are
on medication because of it, myself included. It's because of the
general public – not the animal staff – that thousands of animals
in our area per year have to die. They die because of neglect. They
die from starvation by people who don't realize they need to eat
every day. They die from lack of medical treatment. They die
because people have litter after litter after litter of unwanted
puppies who have no homes. They die because people can't be bothered
with flea and tick treatments. They die because they chewed on a rug
when they didn't have any toys. They die because they're given as
gifts to people who didn't want them. They die because people don't
have fences and dogs break chains. They die because people let their dogs out and when they
get picked up, they don't want to pay their tickets.
The people at Animal Control aren't the
bad guys. I've gone to bat for them publicly on more than one
occasion. They have incredibly hard jobs and get bashed way more
often than they deserve. Then there came a time when they needed me
to do it again, but I'd signed that nifty “shut-it” clause. If I
wrote anything in their defense, it would first have to be approved
by my immediate supervisor, then the board of directors for HS, then
finally the City Commission. I wound up posting my story anonymously.
The people at AC are there to keep
people and animals safe. Sure, you're upset about your tickets, but
would you rather have had your dog hit by a car? Possibly picked up
by a stranger who tossed it into a dog fighting ring? (Those aren't
just Pit Bulls, by the way. People use Boxers, Dalmatians,
Ridgebacks, Rottweilers, Dobermans, German Shepherds, cattle dogs,
and even smaller ones who would never be seen as “vicious” by
normal standards. Having a Beagle or a Yorkie doesn't keep them safer
from sociopaths.) Or perhaps left to their own devices, roaming the
streets for months until they starve to death? Is THAT better? No, it
isn't. At least when they're picked up and put in a kennel they have
safety from the elements, food and water until you come to get them.
IF you come to get them. If not, it is then squarely on the shoulders
of the Humane Society staff to do their best to clean up the mess
with which you couldn't be bothered.
One day I was walking through the
Quarantine building for sick and injured animals. I don't remember
what I was looking for but what I found knotted my stomach. At first,
I couldn't tell if it was the worse case of mange I'd ever seen or if
it was something else. My fears were confirmed when it was decided
this boy had actually been set on fire. I knew that nobody was going
to reclaim him. I knew that he would be dead by the end of the week.
All I could do was talk to him and try to comfort him with pain pills
and treats.
In this particular instance, I knew
that no cruelty charges would ever be filed. No one knew who owned
him and nobody knew who did this to him. Nothing would ever be done
to the monsters who sealed this dog's fate. I'm positive they're
roaming the streets today and this couldn't have possibly been their
only victim. Granted, that's me assuming this wasn't an accident. It
could have been, but I don't find it very likely.
People often forget that there is a
direct correlation between animal abuse and people abuse. People
living in a household with someone who can do this to an animal, will
likely face domestic violence issues themselves. That's not just me
being emotional about it - it's a FACT.
There was another case with a dog named
“Sponge Bob.” He came in with a broken jaw and a dried up, dangling eye. He'd been that way for a while. The
owner signed him over to be euthanized because she didn't want to pay
the vet bill. The Humane Society decided to pay for it and got him to
a vet. According to the vet, the dog wasn't hit by a car as the owner
claimed must have happened. The break to his jaw was too clean. And
since it was the eye on the opposite side of the broken jaw that had
come out, the vet determined that the dog was most likely kicked with
such force to the jaw that his eye had been dislocated from the
socket. Now, because I didn't personally see what happened, I was
told not to make any declarations or assumptions which is usually the
wise decision. However, once the previous owner of the dog admitted
that she had seen her grown, 40+ year old son repeatedly kick her
animals, there was very little doubt in my mind as to whom the
offender was. And wouldn't you know it, as soon as the vet bills had been taken care of through the generous donations of strangers, the woman decided she wanted the dog back.
Nobody saw it happen though, so it
couldn't be proved. His mother certainly isn't going rat out her own
son. Once again, animal cruelty charges won't be filed. And I was
once again reprimanded for being too sensitive.
When DO animal cruelty charges get
filed? That's the million dollar question I'm still trying to figure
out. APHS employs the ONE person who is certified to investigate
animal cruelty in the top twenty-six counties in Texas. ONE girl –
twenty-six counties. Needless to say, she's a little overwhelmed.
The trick to this is that the Humane
Society can only investigate inquiries outside Amarillo city limits.
Since that's the case, the sheriff's department of the offender's
county must first be contacted. If the Sheriff doesn't feel like
picking up the case because his county doesn't have the time or
resources (or give-a-damn) to deal with it, it's out the window.
There are endless amounts of red tape that prevent these
prosecutions.
Earlier this year we were involved with
some hoarding seizures from a woman in Dalhart. Our cruelty
investigator had been dealing with this woman for four years and
couldn't get anything done to her. There were finally enough people
involved that the news outlets started paying attention. Once the
spotlight was on the officers, they had to do something. After THREE
seizures back to back on different properties, more than a hundred
animals in total were confiscated. She finally served a few days in
jail.
Aside from that one case, I haven't
really seen any others prosecuted. I've never heard of ONE inside the
city limits. Why is that? “It's none of your business.” Well,
then whose business IS it?
Amarillo Animal Control officers are
allowed to give tickets for inadequate food, shelter, and water.
That's about it. Their hands are tied because there aren't any laws
in place to back them up. Even if there were laws in place in defense
of the animals, AC is only there to write tickets. They can't
prosecute any of them. That would be the Potter County District
Attorney's office. Someone needs to ask them why they're letting
people get away with murder.
Some of the more observant readers may
have noticed that I previously mentioned I haven't been legally
allowed to speak about any of these things. “What makes you able to
talk about them NOW?”
They can't fire me now. Here's why:
On Tuesday, July 2, I went to work just
like every other day. We've recently been painfully understaffed and
it was often down to me and one other girl in the office (who is due
to have her baby in 2 days, which left me with a lot of the legwork).
I took a call from a sobbing and belligerent woman in Indiana because
her pit bull had shown up in our tagged building. I went next door to
the AC office to check on the dog's paperwork before I could decide
if it was worth the effort to try and put together a transport for
the dog across the country.
While I was standing there, a man came
in with another pit bull to drop it off. He said he was moving and
couldn't take it with him. It happens every day. Knowing that “owner
donates” who are dropped off with AC are taken straight to the back
room to be put down, the girl behind the counter said, “Sheaaaa,
come look at this beautiful dog! Could you guys put him up for
adoption?” I exhaled a sigh of exhaustion and went around the
counter to see the dog, even though I knew he had about a 1% chance
of ever being adopted (and that's a 1% chance IF he's exceptionally
well-mannered and has been perfectly socialized). I knelt down
sideways and reached my hand out for him to sniff it. He growled.
Studying animal behavior is what I do every day. It's not just a
hobby for me. I knew exactly what that dog was thinking and precisely
why he reacted the way he did. He was scared senseless and had NO
idea what was going on. His owner obviously didn't know that or
didn't care and proceeded to smack the daylight out of his dog. Right
in the face. Right in front of me.
Imagine being less than 1/4 the size of
your protector. Now imagine being dragged into a strange place and
not knowing why. Imagine only being able to sense that something is
wrong and that your life is about to change drastically without being
able to do anything about it. Imagine cowering in fear. Imagine being
able to hear hundreds of other animals crying simultaneously just
outside the door. Imagine being able to smell the rotting corpses of
the other animals who didn't get adopted out and wondering if you
were next. Imagine vocalizing your fear in the only way you know how
to, and then getting beaten in the face for it by the only person on
earth who is supposed to care for you.
Within a fraction of a second, I DID
imagine all those things. I felt that dog's heart racing inside my
own chest. I was helpless and angry and disgusted, all at the same
time. And I snapped.
Before I knew what was happening, I saw
my hand raise itself into the air. My brain flickered a futile
synapse, “Stop!” But before the command of logic had processed,
it was too late. The damage had been done and could not be reversed.
As rumors spread, surely the legend of
what happened that day will grow. Years from now, I will have knocked
out the man's teeth and given him a concussion. That's not really
what happened. Dude got popped upside the head. It wasn't any harder
than a mother smacking the hand of her toddler for picking up a piece
of candy it shouldn't have... if that toddler is muscular and 6'3”
tall.
I went on about my business. Back at
the Humane Society office, I called next door and apologized about
the happenings. The girl who answered said that the same man was on
his way to our office. He was there before she finished her sentence.
I gave him our intake sheet for him to
fill out but wanted him to know that I was doing him a favor. I
apologized for my reaction while I pulled out my business card with a
picture of my dog Beau on it. I told the man, “This is my dog.” I
pointed at pictures on the wall of my other two (now deceased) pits
and said, “Those were my dogs.” He said, “You got pits?” Yes,
I do. And that's why I'm sensitive about their abuse. We went back
and forth and I promised I would do everything I could to help get
his dog into a new home. He thanked me for my help and shook my hand.
I thought that was the end of it. It almost was.
At closing time, I saw my boss come in
the office with the Vice President of the Humane Society board. I
didn't take the time to consider it odd because I was in the middle
of an adoption with some other people. Everyone was smiling and
laughing and taking pictures. I congratulated them and they went on
their way.
Then I heard, “I need to see you in my office.” Okay.
Even in that instance I still had no idea anything was wrong. I
casually said, “What's up?” She looked at me with confusion and
disappointment and said, “Did you HIT somebody today!?” Oh. That.
Yeah. I guess I wasn't supposed to do that, huh? Is that gonna be a
problem? “You did it AT Animal Control, ON city property, AND in
front of witnesses. It's a HUGE problem.” I hung my head in shame
as I finally came to process the situation. I knew I couldn't explain
why I did what I did, and I certainly couldn't defend it or justify
it. I looked at her and said, “I understand you gotta do what you
have to do.” Because my supervisor is also a very dear friend to
me, I know it put a dagger in her heart to tell me, “I have to let
you go.” I had put her in the position where she didn't have any
other choice. I'd finally become too much of a liability. It wasn't
the first time the word “liability” had been tossed in my
direction, but it was the last I'd hear it in that building. We all
knew from day one it was only a matter of time... and the time had
come.
All too often I heard the words, “I
don't know how you do it; I couldn't do it.” Well, apparently I
couldn't do it either. Not for much longer than a year.
I only sulked for a day or two before I
started seeing it as a gift. “Emancipation” is a fitting word. My
heart wanted a way out but my mind kept telling me I was needed
there. The way in which it finally unraveled was the easiest ticket
the universe could have possibly handed me. It kept me from leaving
in the back of a cop car or in a straight jacket. Either of the
aforementioned routes would have been highly unpleasant, although
highly plausible as well. I don't begrudge anyone on staff for the
way things happened. That was all MY bad and I'll own it. I still
love, respect, and miss them dearly. Someone has to keep doing the
work that I'm not able to do.
I wanted more time to read and study.
I've got that now. I wanted more time to do the job I love –
training people and their dogs. I've got that now. I longed for the
ability to use what I learned in my year at the Humane Society as an
opportunity to teach people through writing about it. I've got that
now. As for my sanity? That has yet to be determined.
