Shelter animals. (+ a heartwarming page about my rescue dog).

Shelter animals and the part we play

To be a rescue dog.

Rescue animals are so common now, we (as humans) adopt an animal, find out a behaviour or an illness that we dislike, or perhaps we move and can't take the animal with us, then we give them to a shelter, and quickly forget about them and the large impact we had on their lives. Then the animal gets adopted again and lives a happy life, right?

Wrong.

For the animals that find themselves in shelters, it's a dark, scary time. Now picture this - you're unable to communicate with the people around you, you lived most of your life in a family that you loved and adored, only to one day be dropped off at an unknown building, alone. Thrown into a small "run" or pen, and forgotten about. Bars on all sides keeping you imprisoned like an animal. With a strong chance that if nobody wanted you, or you showed too much aggression or sadness, your life would be exterminated. This would be absolutely ludicrous, wouldn't it? To treat humans this way on such a large scale? So why, as "humans" do we allow this treatment for other species?

I've done my fair share of time helping out at animal shelters, and would do it again in a heartbeat, despite the amount of tears I shed and the emotions that surfaced. I was stationed specifically helping the dogs, my role was to go through the pens, walk them, feed them, clean the feces off the cold cement, then tick them off on the checklist until tomorrow. Due to the large number of volunteers at this specific shelter, I changed my duties to walking the dogs, cleaning their pens, feeding them, and spending quality time with each and every dog (or at least as many as I could during opening hours). The dogs I missed one day, would be seen the next, and so on and so forth. I grew strong attachments to each and every dog. Whether they were there for reasons out of their control or if they were dogs deemed as "aggressive" or "not able to socialize" they all became huge parts of my day to day life. Time spent away from the shelter was time I spent researching their specific breeds, what some of their actions may mean, and how I can try to help them get over their fears. During that time, I learnt a lot. Before that I hadn't ever owned my own dog, or spent a significant amount of time with a dog (just due to living circumstances, we were unable to own dogs). So with my new found information and skills, I'd return to the shelter and try to help them.

The dogs that were there and deemed as "aggressive", were usually away from the other dogs, away from anyone that could see them, and (depending on the severity of their "aggression"), put on death row.

One thing I strongly believe, is that no dog is truly aggressive. A dog protecting its home is not aggressive, merely protective. A dog that bites a stranger when feeling threatened is not aggressive, merely scared. And an animal that has been dumped in an unknown place surrounded by strangers, is not aggressive, merely terrified. So when these terrified dogs are put down, that's a life lost that could have been so easily saved. All it takes is a gentle hand, a reassuring voice, and a will to see them get better.

There was one specific dog that for some reason, to this day, I can never forget. Her breeds were put down as a Bull Mastiff x Boxer. She was surrendered by her owners due to them moving. When the staff attempted to vet check her, however, they quickly learned that she was "aggressive", and they were unable to get near her without muzzling her first and pinning her down.

This dog was clearly used as a breeding mill, probably as a profit for the owners before she got too temperamental. She had a strong hate towards other dogs (unless they were significantly smaller, or puppies). Having her in a pen next to other dogs was not an option.

She was put into her own kennel, and forgotten about. Fed, water replenished, and had her kennel hosed down from the outside, as the staff members were too scared to enter. It had been a few days since she was surrendered, and all I could think about was this dog, how much I wanted to be able to help her.

I got the ok from one of the lead coordinators, so I entered her pen, and I was met with a dog that cowered, growled, and bared teeth at me. All driven from fear, mind you, this dog did not want to hurt me and I could sense that by the way she didn't approach me, or lunge at me, she just kept her distance but stood her ground.

I decided that my best course of action was to allow her to approach me, so I went back to my personal locker and grabbed out the book I was reading at the time "Last Dog on the Hill". Returned to her pen, and sat on the opposite end, quietly reading my book. After half an hour, she began to relax, she laid down in the same spot, but kept her eyes fixated on me, ready to growl if I attempted another approach. After another hour, she walked to her bowl and ate, with her back towards me, only steeling looks if I made a slight noise. It took a total of four, maybe five hours before she came near me, but when she did, she lifted my hand over her head with her nose, and laid down on my lap, begging me to pat her, to rub her belly, to show her the affection she may have never received. After another hour I decided that I could finally clip the lead on her and take her out of her pen for the first time, without the muzzle. I walked her around the back, and she spent a lot of time sniffing things, we found a shady patch of grass under a tree and decided to sit there together. I think in the back of my head, I was avoiding taking her back to her kennel, the staff were talking about putting her down, and all I wanted was to be able to steal her away and find her a home myself. Little did I know, that's exactly what I was going to do that day. We spent a long time sitting under that tree, and she spent most of that time on my lap (she was a large, heavy dog, but clearly believed she was a lap dog). A young couple came by, and stopped when they saw her. The male exclaiming how beautiful she was, and how much he was looking for a bull mastiff (she was the only bull mastiff in the pound at that time). They walked over, and her hard tail began hitting the dirt. I explained to them that she had only come out of her shell that day, and explained to them that she may be hard work, especially if they're not understanding that she needs to form that trust first. They fell in love with her, despite her problems, and took her home that day. She never again returned to that shelter, and all I can hope is that she found her forever home with that couple.

When you surrender an animal that you haven't successfully trained, or socialized, you are setting them up for failure. There are shelters that will keep an animal for as long as they need. Get them the medical attention they need, the training they need. But even those shelters are not fun to be in. The animals get forgotten about, usually laying in their own muck, lonely, cold, scared. For the shelters that do put down the animals, they will usually find any excuse to do so. Old age, aggression, fear, illness, too many other animals so some have to be sacrificed. The list goes on. Some shelters have a strict 72 hour rule, where the animal has a mere 72 hours to find a home, or else it gets destroyed, no matter the circumstances. How can we as "humans" not have the humanity to treat our animals as family members? How can we give away our family members if we know they are probably going to be exterminated.

If you've ever watched an animal be put down, perhaps that would change your mind? I'm sure most people have had to put down an animal before. It's genuinely quite peaceful, and you know that you've done the right thing, seeing your beloved companion peacefully slip out of consciousness. When you take your animal to a vet, they (usually) administer 2 shots. The first injection is a strong sedative, so that when the second injection enters their body, it's not painful.

Because of funding issues, shelters do not administer the first sedative injection, meaning that when the animals are put down, they feel everything. It's not just the needle itself - but their vital organs slowly shutting down. These animals endure a painful agonizing death, with no one there to love and comfort them in their final moments.

I've heard a lot of stories of animals jerking away and slicing their legs open with the needle, many animals defecate on themselves.

In just Australia alone there were 70,000 reported cases of animal abuse in 2017 (according to RSPCAchief executive Paul Stevenson).  That's the amount of cases that were caught, the total number would easily be in the hundreds of thousands.

According to RSPCA's annual statics, there were a total of 37,758 animals euthanized between 2015-2016. That's within one year, in Australia alone, JUST with RSPCA's count. This isn't including AWL, or ANY other shelters.

It is estimated that the total amount of cats and dogs in the whole of Australia that get put down yearly would be well over a quarter of a million.