January/February
2004
See
Me, Hear Me
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One
at a Time: A Week in an American Animal Shelter
By Diane Leigh and Marilee Geyer
In beautiful black and white portraits, One at a Time: A Week
in an American Animal Shelter by Diane Leigh and Marilee Geyer
documents the stories of 75 individual cats and dogs who went through
a northern California shelter system during one week. The following
is an excerpt and a selection of portraits and stories from the
book. Reprinted with kind permission.
Over half the households in America include an animal companion.
Yet behind this immense love of animals lies an equally immense
tragedy: each year, community animal shelters take in eight to twelve
million lost and unwanted dogs and cats who face an uncertain fate.
One at a Time: A Week in an American Animal Shelter brings
this issue vividly to life. With compelling photos and moving vignettes,
it chronicles the stories of 75 animals who passed through a northern
California shelter during one week. Their gripping stories include
excerpts from actual shelter records; the words of shelter workers,
volunteers, and visitors; and the final conclusion of each animal’s
journey through the shelter system.
Look into the eyes of these animals and let their stories give you
a riveting and unforgettable glimpse into this nation’s homeless
animal tragedy. One at a Time will help you to see the
real faces behind the numbers, and to experience the miracles and
heartbreak that play out every day in our nation’s shelters...
one animal at a time.
Even more importantly, One at a Time will give you hope,
because this tragedy can be ended and each one of us can be part
of the solution... offering us the chance to become better people,
to reawaken our connection with other living beings, and to reaffirm
the sanctity of life itself. The animals of One at a Time will show
you how.
One at a Time is a project of No Voice Unheard, a nonprofit
organization established by the authors. All proceeds from book
sales support outreach and educational programs bringing attention
to the homeless animal population problem in this country. $16.95
paperback. To order: www.NoVoiceUnheard.org
or (831) 440-9574. |
Pumpkin Pie
Found alone and on her own, this sweet little orange
tabby kitten was brought in to the shelter as a stray. She was 10 or
12 weeks old and had a bad case of upper respiratory infection (URI).
URI is not a serious illness for an otherwise healthy cat. But in a
shelter, time for rest and recovery is at a premium, and cats whose
systems are stressed by the shelter environment can take even longer
than normal to get well.
One tool many shelters use to increase the options for animals is a
foster program. Volunteers temporarily take shelter animals home, give
them the care that the shelter is not able to provide, and then bring
them back for adoption.
Luckily, a family was available to foster the little orange tabby; they
took her in and named her Pumpkin Pie. By the time she was better, her
foster family had become so attached to her that they decided to adopt
her themselves so she could quickly get on with the business of enjoying
her kittenhood.
Sadi
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From Sadi’s shelter records: “Sadi is being
returned because she cannot be confined. New guardian was not willing
to try keeping her in—he lets her out in the morning and she hops
the fence. He is used to having dogs in a certain set-up and Sadi did
not come ‘ready made.’ I tried to express the importance
of working through the adjustment period, but he does not feel she will
ever change or learn.”
Many people are surprised by the adjustment period an adopted animal
can need. Caught up in the joy of welcoming a new member to the family,
expectations run high and it is easy to forget that, for the animal,
a new home can be a difficult life change. Being in the shelter is already
an experience that leaves many animals shaken and confused. They may
also be grieving for the people who, to them, are inexplicably gone
from their lives—animals remember, even years later, people they’ve
known.
At their deepest nature, dogs are “pack” animals and their
emotional well-being is rooted in living in a group with others they
know and count on. For domestic dogs, the “pack” is the
family they live with, and every change of home translates to a confusing
and stressful change in their most basic social structure and emotional
foundation. A sensitive dog can be quite affected, losing confidence
and her sense of security. It gets harder and does more damage to her
psyche each time she has to go through it again.
In a new home, a dog does not automatically know what is expected of
her. It takes time to learn her place in the “pack,” to
form bonds, to become accustomed to new rules and routines, and to regain
a feeling of safety and stability. It can be a tenuous time during which
she will need gentleness, patience, and realistic expectations from
her new guardians. Many adoptions fail during this critical period,
as did Sadi’s.
Five days after Sadi returned, a staffer noted, “Sadi is very
depressed, not looking good emotionally.” Fortunately, a young
couple who had adopted a dog from the shelter some years ago decided
to adopt another. They met Sadi and began to love her right away. The
shelter staffer knew that if Sadi were returned to the shelter again,
she would probably not hold up to the strain. “Be careful, she’s
under stress,” he counseled, almost pleading with them to understand,
“she’s been here, then left, then came back.” The
couple listened carefully and understood, committed to helping Sadi
through yet another major adjustment in her life, and to making it the
last one she would have to go through.
They brought their other dog, a ten year-old black retriever mix, to
meet Sadi. In the shelter courtyard, the new pack—white dog, black
dog, two humans—was formed, their bond already growing. They left
the shelter together, the older dog walking closely at Sadi’s
side, seeming to sense that she needed friendship and comfort. In the
car, Sadi looked uncertain, but she didn’t know, yet, that she
finally had a stable and happy future ahead of her.
Kelli
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Kelli, a cute little terrier mix with a heart-stopping
face, had been found on a busy highway near the county airport. Her
stray hold—a designated number of days intended to allow families
to find lost animals—expired and no one had come forward to claim
her, so shelter staff set about getting to know her, to assess her temperament
and determine what kind of adoptive family would be best for her. “This
poor girl is very frightened but seems sweet. I will continue to spend
time with her,” noted one of the staffers in her records.
Two days later, the staffer noted, “This pooch has potential,
but needs a little work. Quite the little street urchin—wants
to be nice but has not learned what affection is all about, will move
in close for treats, but is very unsure.”
Kelli had no concept of a leash or how to walk alongside a human companion.
She craved comfort, wanted to be touched, but was fearful and sometimes
skittered away when someone reached to pet her.
The little ragamuffin dog captured the staff’s hearts. Each day
they gave her basic training and showered her with love. Ten days after
entering the shelter, a staffer noted, “Kelli is doing really
well, really starting to come around. Very excited to see people and
loves to run and play. Very treat-motivated and attentive. Still needs
socialization, as she is a bit unsure, but I think she’ll do well.
Adopters should be prepared to spend some time bonding with her and
building her confidence.”
Kelli was clearly learning to trust people, to understand what kind
of behavior was expected of her, and to enjoy human contact. But the
shelter is a stressful place for a frightened dog who lacks confidence,
who needs a steady, calm environment in which to develop trust and social
skills, who needs time to blossom into her potential of a happy, loving
dog.
Staff continued to work with her, and Kelli continued to make progress,
but it was a race against time, a race against the onset of kennel stress.
A month into her stay at the shelter, she lunged at a small child standing
outside her kennel and began to show other signs of stress-induced aggression.
Emotionally, Kelli’s time in the shelter must have been very uncomfortable—her
newfound, growing trust of humans in conflict with the fear she had
lived with for so much longer. Despite the loving, encouraging attention
she received, in the stress of the shelter environment her fear finally
won out.
Surma
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Even after long, difficult days of dealing with the
homeless animal problem on the job, many shelter workers take it home
with them at night, too. Literally.
Surma and her sister arrived at the shelter as strays. The staffer who
took them in noted, “These little babies are pretty young—four
to five weeks—but are very social. They are eating well (however
messily) and seem strong.” Still, they were undersized and several
weeks shy of being ready for adoption.
It is not uncommon for staffers who care for animals at the shelter
to also open their homes to them. Indeed, when faced with animals who
have needs the shelter cannot meet, it can seem like the only thing
to do.
A staff person offered to provide a foster home to Surma and her sister
so they could have time to get a little bigger and a little older. They
lived with him and received his skilled care for nearly four weeks,
and when they were ready, he brought them back to go up for adoption.
He gave them the Indian names Surma and Kajol, and posted hand-written
cards on their cage, describing their personalities and revealing his
affection for them: “Kajol is a cuddler. She seeks out companions
for play, lap sits, and purring. She loves to explore. Surma is playful
and independent. She is very inquisitive and very affectionate.”
In an exceptional stroke of good fortune, an adopter came to the shelter
who wanted to adopt two kittens. It is rare for littermates to be adopted
to the same home—most adopters want, or are prepared for, just
one animal. It must be bewildering for those left behind as each of
their siblings are adopted and inexplicably, to them, gone, after spending
every moment since birth in each other’s company. But these sisters
would be growing up, and growing old, together.
The staffer who fostered the kittens handled their adoption, and when
the paperwork was completed, the new collars and tags put on the kittens,
and the cat carriers assembled, he asked quietly, “Can I say goodbye
to them?”
He whispered softly in their kitten ears things the rest of us could
not hear. Perhaps he said he’d miss them. Perhaps he told them
to be good girls. Perhaps he told them what the rest of us were thinking,
and wishing, and hoping: Good luck… be safe… have a long,
happy life.
Misha
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Misha’s guardian was moving to Oregon and left
Misha in the temporary care of a co-worker, promising to return for
her in a week. One and a half months later, she still had not returned.
Unable to keep Misha any longer, the co-worker brought her to the shelter.
Shelter staff attempted to track Misha’s guardian in Oregon, but
could not get a forwarding address or new phone number. With no leads,
Misha was now alone.
It is difficult enough to imagine what life’s changes will bring
five or ten years down the line; it is even more difficult to imagine
how to accommodate an animal when those changes come along. But an animal’s
fate rests on that very consideration.
Throughout their lives, many companion animals bounce from guardian
to guardian, from home to home to home. A stunning statistic: only one
animal in three has a home that lasts their entire lifetime. For the
others, millions of them, they are left behind, or given away, or surrendered
to shelters, while their guardians move on, assuming, wanting to believe,
convincing themselves, that somehow their animals are fine. The reality
is, many are not.
Misha spent three weeks in the shelter, then began to show signs of
kennel stress. “She was probably a feisty pup to begin with and
being kenneled has not helped,” a shelter staff person noted in
her records. “She is very mouthy and nippy and does not seem to
do well with other dogs. This dog would need an experienced guardian
without small children.”
A week later, Misha’s stress had gotten much worse. “She
is going kennel crazy here,” the animal care supervisor noted
in Misha’s records. “Disposition for euthanasia.”
“Sorry, we tried.”
name unknown
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Many people want a puppy or kitten as a new companion,
and it’s not hard to understand why, but there is something very
special about adopting an older animal. These often-overlooked animals
offer unique qualities that only age and maturity can provide.
This fluffy orange and white cat was a stray who had gone unclaimed
by his family. “This incredibly sweet boy looks well cared for.
Older, neutered. Super purr!” noted staff in his records.
He was not a playful kitten who would entertain a new guardian with
high-energy antics. He was a ready-made lap cat, which is exactly what
he showed the older woman who came to the shelter to adopt a companion.
Flopping on the floor in the “get-acquainted room,” he gazed
up at her and kneaded his paws in the air, as if to show her how relaxed
and affectionate he would be in her home, what a lovely companion he
could be for her.
She gazed back at him and saw a good match, and decided to take him
home. In doing so, she granted the gift of life to an older animal who
was at a distinct disadvantage for getting a second chance. She made
a poignant commitment to a sweet, old cat who needed and deserved someone—someone
like her—who would look beyond his years to see his loving being.
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