The Cellar - Sad Reality

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Quote:

A SAD REALITY

After I was discharged from the U.S. Navy, Jim and I moved back to Detroit to use our GI bill benefits to get some schooling. Jim was going for a degree in Electronics and I, after much debating, decided to get mine in Computer Science. One of the required classes was Speech.

Like many people, I had no fondness for getting up in front of people for any reason, let alone to be the centre of attention as I stuttered my way through some unfamiliar subject. But I couldn't get out of the requirement, and so I found myself in my last semester before graduation with Speech as one of my classes.

On the first day of class our professor explained to us that he was going to leave the subject manner of our talks up to us, but he was going to provide the motivation of the speech. We would be responsible for six speeches, each with a different motivation. For instance our first speech's purpose was to inform. He advised us to pick subjects that we were interested in and knowledgeable about. I decided to centre my six speeches around animals, especially dogs.

For my first speech to inform, I talked about the equestrian art of dressage. For my speech to demonstrate, I brought my German Shepherd, Bodger, to class and demonstrated obedience commands. Finally the semester was almost over and I had but one more speech to give. This speech was to take the place of a written final exam and was to count for fifty per cent of our grade. The speeches motivation was to persuade.

After agonizing over a subject matter, and keeping with my animal theme, I decided on the topic of spaying and neutering pets. My goal was to try to persuade my classmates to neuter their pets. So I started researching the topic. There was plenty of material, articles that told of the millions of dogs and cats that were euthanized every year, of supposedly beloved pets that were turned in to various animal control facilities for the lamest of reasons, or worse, dropped off far from home, bewildered and scared. Death was usually a blessing.

The final speech was looming closer, but I felt well prepared. My notes were full of facts and statistics that I felt sure would motivate even the most naive of pet owners to succumb to my plea.

A couple of days before our speeches were due, I had the bright idea of going to the local branch of the Humane Society and borrowing a puppy to use as a sort of a visual aid. I called the Humane Society and explained what I wanted. They were very happy to accommodate me. I made arrangements to pick up a puppy the day before my speech.

The day before my speech, I went to pick up the puppy. I was feeling very confident. I could quote all the statistics and numbers without ever looking at my notes. The puppy, I felt, would add the final emotional touch. When I arrived at the Humane Society I was met by a young guy named Ron. He explained that he was the public relations person for the Humane Society.

He was very excited about my speech and asked if I would like a tour of the facilities before I picked up the puppy. I enthusiastically agreed.

We started out in the reception area, which was the general public's initial encounter with the Humane Society. The lobby was full, mostly with people dropping off various animals that they no longer wanted Ron explained to me that this branch of the Humane Society took in about fifty animals a day and adopted out twenty.

As we stood there I heard snatches of conversation: "I can't keep him, he digs holes in my garden." "They such cute puppies, I know you will have no trouble finding homes for them." "She is wild, I can't control her."

I heard one of Humane Society's volunteer explain to the lady with the litter of puppies that the Society was filled with puppies and that these puppies, being black, would immediately be put to sleep. Black puppies, she explained, had little chance of being adopted. The woman who brought the puppies in just shrugged, "I can't help it," she whined. "They are getting too big. I don't have room for them."

We left the reception area. Ron led me into the staging area where all the incoming animals were evaluated for adoptability. Over half never even made it to the adoption centre. There were just too many. Not only were people bringing in their own animals, but strays were also dropped off. By law the Humane Society had to hold a stray for three days. If the animal was not claimed by then, it was euthanized, since there was no background information on the animal.

There were already too many animals that had a known history eagerly provided by their soon to be ex-owners. As we went through the different areas, I felt more and more depressed. No amount of statistics, could take the place of seeing the reality of what this throwaway attitude did to the living, breathing animal. It was over overwhelming.

Finally Ron stopped in front of a closed door. "That's it," he said, "except for this." I read the sign on the door. "Euthanisation Area."

"Do you want to see one?" he asked. Before I could decline, he interjected, "You really should. You can't tell the whole story unless you experience the end." I reluctantly agreed. "Good." He said "I already cleared it and Peggy is expecting you."

He knocked firmly on the door. It was opened immediately by a middle aged woman in a white lab coat. "Here's the girl I was telling you about," Ron explained. Peggy looked me over. "Well, I'll leave you here with Peggy and meet you in the reception area in about fifteen minutes. I'll have the puppy ready."

With that Ron departed, leaving me standing in front of the stern-looking Peggy. Peggy motioned me in. As I walked into the room, I gave an audible gasp. The room was small and spartan. There were a couple of cages on the wall and a cabinet with syringes and vials of a clear liquid. In the middle of the room was an examining table with a rubber mat on top. There were two doors other than the one I had entered. Both were closed. One said to incinerator room, and the other had no sign, but I could hear various animals noises coming from behind the closed door. In the back of the room, near the door that was marked incinerator were the objects that caused my distress: two wheelbarrows, filled with the bodies of dead kittens and puppies. I stared in horror.

Nothing had prepared me for his. I felt my legs grow weak and my breathing become rapid and shallow. Peggy seemed not to notice my state of shock. She started talking about the euthanisation process, but I wasn't hearing her. I could not tear my gaze away from the wheelbarrows and those dozens of pathetic little bodies.

Finally, Peggy seemed to notice that I was not paying attention to her. "Are you listening?" she asked irritably. "I'm only going to go through this once." I tore my gaze from the back of the room and looked at her.

I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing would come out, so I nodded. She told me that behind the unmarked door were the animals that were scheduled for euthanasia that day. She picked up a chart that was hanging from the wall. "One fifty-three is next," she said as she looked at the chart. "I'll go get him."

continued

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She laid down the chart on the examining table and started for the unmarked door. Before she got to the door she stopped and turned around. "You aren't going to get hysterical, are you?" she asked, "Because that will only upset the animals." I shook my head. I had not said a word since I walked into that room. I still felt unsure if I would be able to without breaking down into tears.

As Peggy opened the unmarked door I peered into the room beyond. It was a small room, but the walls were lined and stacked with cages. It looked like they were all occupied. Peggy opened the door of one of the lower cages and removed the occupant. From what I could see it looked like a medium-sized dog. She attached a leash and ushered the dog into the room in which I stood.

As Peggy brought the dog into the room I could see that the dog was no more than a puppy, maybe five or six months old. The pup looked to be a cross between a Lab and a German shepherd. He was mostly black, with a small amount of tan above his eyes and on his feet. He was very excited and bouncing up and down, trying to sniff everything in this new environment.

Peggy lifted the pup onto the table. She had a card in her hand, which she laid on the table next to me. I read the card. It said that number one fifty-three was a mixed Shepherd, six months old. He was surrendered two days ago by a family. Reason of surrender was given as "jumps on children." At the bottom was a note that said "Name: Sam."

Peggy was quick and efficient, from lots of practice, I guessed. She laid one fifty-three down on his side and tied a rubber tourniquet around his front leg. She turned to fill the syringe from the vial of clear liquid. All this time I was standing at the head of the table. I could see the moment that one fifty-three went from a curious puppy to a terrified puppy. He did not like being held down and he started to struggle.

It was then that I finally found my voice. I bent over the struggling puppy and whispered, "Sam. Your name is Sam." At the sound of his name Sam quit struggling. He wagged his tail tentatively and his soft pink tongue darted out and licked my hand. And that is how he spent his last moment. I watched his eyes fade from hopefulness to nothingness It was over very quickly. I had never even seen Peggy give the lethal shot.

The tears could not be contained any longer. I kept my head down so as not to embarrass myself in front of the stoic Peggy. My tears fell onto the still body on the table. "Now you know," Peggy said softly. Then she turned away. "Ron will be waiting for you."

I left the room. Although it seemed like it had been hours, only fifteen minutes had gone by since Ron had left me at the door. I made my way back to the reception area. True to his word, Ron had the puppy all ready to go.

After giving me some instructions about what to feed the puppy, he handed the carrying cage over to me and wished me good luck on my speech. That night I went home and spent many hours playing with the orphan puppy. I went to bed that night but I could not sleep. After a while I got up and looked at my speech notes with their numbers and statistics. Without a second thought, I tore them up and threw them away. I went back to bed.
Sometime during the night I finally fell asleep.

The next morning I arrived at my Speech class with Puppy Doe. When my turn came, I held the puppy in my arms, I took a deep breath, and I told the class about the life and death of Sam. When I finished my speech I became aware that I was crying. I apologized to the class and took my seat. After class the teacher handed out a critique with our grades. I got an "A." His comments said "Very moving and persuasive."

Two days later, on the last day of class, one of my classmates came up to me. She was an older lady that I had never spoken to in class. She stopped me on our way out of the class room. "I want you to know that I adopted the puppy you brought to class," she said. "His name is Sam."

Please have your pets spayed or neutered.

:(

Sad. Amen, Bruce!

Oh, now I'm bawling. And I have to go see my new rad. onc. in half an hour!!

Dick.

Thankfully I work alone so no one will see tears in my eyes. Yep, I'm a sap.

Sad but accurate description of the problem and the current 'solution'. I spent 5 years at an animal shelter. One only learns to control the grief because getting over killing your beloved animal friends is impossible. And then there is the unfun of being the target of other animal lovers who blame shelter workers for the problem - none of the people I ever worked with contributed to the shelter's unwanted pet population - but screaming back at them does not help anyone. ::wipes eyes and sighs heavily::

Someone should write a poem about this. SG? Shawnee? Salamander?

Quote:

Originally Posted by sweetwater (Post 448355)

I understand, sweetwater. Thanks for giving another perspective.

I read, some time ago, about a shelter that this guy designated "no-kill." I'm not sure where it was, now, though it was a county shelter. He found other solutions somehow. I'm sure it would cost more, but it's a good thing. Then there is SICSA in Kettering, OH. I've been there, when I worked down in that area. Neat place!

from SICSA:

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preventing the euthanasia of adoptable companion animals

Ah, that's the trick! Many shelters accept all animals because being choosey means that some will get dumped on the highway near the first farm they see as they drive out of town. I'm not a fan of no-kills because I've seen far too many pets go cage crazy. The loss of mind & heart (and the subsequent loss of hope for a new home) is worse than the loss of life. Being choosey over which pets are accepted helps, as do foster homes. btw, the shelter where I worked was in Ohio, too.

This is why I decided, that, when I do get a puppy, I will definitely be adopting an abandoned one.

Shelia, The hole digging wonder came from a vet. $50 bucks. Spayed, spaied??

This is why I decided that, when I do get a puppy, I will definitely be adopting a dead one.

A good friend of mine is an Animal Control Officer (dog catcher), in NJ. I never know what to expect at her house, other than her menagerie of dogs, cats, and birds. There is usually an assortment of critters she'd picked up that, are being nursed back to an adoptable condition. They may not be, but at least they'll, have a shot at it, rather than being put down (killed) right away. Don't tell anybody, but she sometimes finds homes for them instead of turning them in.

That's why on her birthday and Christmas, I put money on her vet bill.

That made me teary. You need an emotional warning label on that one.

Heh- I had some acquaintances that worked at the humane society once. They kept adopting the dogs. They were pissed all the time. No wonder none of them work there anymore. That would be an incredibly difficult job.

I wonder why black puppies aren't adoptable?

I really don't wish to be rude because I have exactly the same feelings as all you above posted - it's just that I work with children with mental and behavouril handicaps but it often stikes me as odd how we as humans feel so intensly for the plight of puppies and kittens and little tortoises, birds etc when we steel our emotions for our own kind. I've seen hard men bawl like babies for a dead dog and stand dignified for a dead relative. Just asking anyone how do we do that? Why do we do that? It is an answer I need to understand if anyone could provide it I'd be grateful. Thanks.

Because most people's relatives are jerks?

Because the dog was man's best friend?

Becouse dogs are better than people, it's a greater loss.

Funny. Guys I'm serious - it's one of lifes things please comment usefully.

-because it's socially acceptable to go ga-ga over pets; because one can't possibly expend emotional coin on every single injustice in the world; and because people are jerks, especially to each other, and animals usually aren't

For the above reasons and more.

Dogs and small animals are helpless. We don't have mass state funding to care for them. We have to rely on the ability of people to neuter, to care about puppy mills, and stop putting cute baby animals in easter baskets.

Now you just sound bitter Cloud, are you hanging on to you guns and religious beliefs? Shoot the dying pet and bury with all dignity the dead relative. Life is full of contradictions as far as I have witnessed. Once a friend of mine (in the U.K.) had his cat knocked down outside his house when his daughter came rushing in and declared the fact. He calmly went onto the road picked up the dead cat and put it into the trash can. He had a large back garden and the said cat grew up with his two daughters. We ate dinner knowing the cat was in the trash. He was a singularly humourless bastard from my reckoning on.

uh, what? my guns and religious beliefs? not my scene.

people are jerks, and worse. people are also wonderful and caring. Sometimes even the same people at the same time.

Sorry you said black puppies. I was alluding to Obamas gaff about Pensylvannians being BITTER. My bad, please excuse me.

Quote:

I heard one of Humane Society's volunteer explain to the lady with the litter of puppies that the Society was filled with puppies and that these puppies, being black, would immediately be put to sleep. Black puppies, she explained, had little chance of being adopted.

the news story states that black puppies are not adoptable; I am just wondering why. I don't see anything wrong with black dogs, or cats for that matter.

You're right. Neither do I. Black dogs, cats, horses are beautiful. Interesting.

Quote:

Originally Posted by icileparadise (Post 448560)

He calmly went onto the road picked up the dead cat and put it into the trash can. He had a large back garden and the said cat grew up with his two daughters. We ate dinner knowing the cat was in the trash. He was a singularly humourless bastard from my reckoning on.

Ok now you are saying there isn't enough compassion for animals. Which is it? What lofty principle are you standing on here, because you seem to have two opposing arguements.

What in the hell is the question?
:D

a sampling:

http://www.glendalehumane.org/blackdog.html

http://www.blackpearldogs.com/

http://www.cnn.com/2008/LIVING/wayof...g.syndrome.ap/

I was not aware of this. Apparently, black dogs and cats are consistently less adoptable.

Maybe it's a phoney ID. Someones sock puppet?

Quote:

Originally Posted by skysidhe (Post 448574)

Maybe it's a phoney ID. Someones sock puppet?

uuuh. What? Who's phoney...ID? Huh?

I don't want to upset anyone but it intrigues me how us humans feel so compassionatly for pets when we are so quiet and dignified about human troubles and am not speaking about human deaths. We seem to steel ourselves about the courage of humans but when it come to little or big animals we lose it. Now Cicero you are a woman of life bear with me I just wish to know how and why we humans make this disitinction. For example I was with my infant daughter in a park one day when she had to really take a crap and I held her under a tree with broken ground under it to do it and some people said to us to go to a toilet or use a diaper. I said to them coz they had a dog like your dog pisses and craps in a public toilet instead of all over the place.

We look at animals differently. That's all I'm saying. I have a blind woman lives near me and her Guide Dog is astonishing; it crosses a really busy road for her and acts like a human in every caring sense. I am astonished how a dog can be so trained in a way that we can't. It's never distracted even by other dogs. Fascinating.

@ icileparadise.......do we know you by another name? I mean do you log in here under another name? :)

Quote:

Originally Posted by icileparadise (Post 448577)

*reads your last post* nevermind...it's not important.I don't want to know. :hide:

No why are you suspicious? It's me. Just this pet/animal thing intigues me. I eat meat but am disgusted at wholesalers abbottoirs who would not be. We treat animals in a different way to humans that all I'm exploring here. What do you mean another name Sky? I am not another name. See how contentious this animal thing can become. We eat them. It's how we treat them that is the point.

Look, ya'll---ici is just asking why we seem to have more compassion for animals than people sometimes. To me, this is an easy question. Animals are so innocent...they don't try to manipulate or do you wrong and they are completely dependant upon us (well, I'm talking pets here, of course) so it makes it EASIER to love them.

I am not stoic in the face of anyone's death or illness and I doubt I could stand at a funereal and be stoic, brave or emotionless. thankfully, I"ve only had to do that once in my life and I did indeed cry very much.

Quote:

Originally Posted by Brianna (Post 448584)

Look, ya'll---ici is just asking why we seem to have more compassion for animals than people sometimes.

My response is: It must be sunny out where Brianna lives today. :)

Quote:

Originally Posted by icileparadise (Post 448577)

Cicero you are a woman of life bear with me I just wish to know how and why we humans make this disitinction.

I honestly read this over and over as: Cicero you are a woman of life bear, with me, I just want to know how and why we humans make this distinction.
lol!
Now I got ya!!
;)

The reason why we make this distinction is the same reason why people don't like to watch your infant poo in public parks. We are supposed to have reasoning on our side, and be civilized.

People act out of grief or compassion in many different ways. If we weren't forced to show respect at funerals and be somber, we would be wallowing all over the caskets and flowers..not giving anyone a quiet moment of reflection for the person they also lost.

Dog deaths are less formal unless you are talking about our dog chamois that we bought a funeral plot for in a respectable pet cemetary that had a somber respectable funeral.

Example Dog: As soon as I saw my puppy dead in the street as it had been run over by a car, I dropped to my knees to pick it up, and could not see where I was carrying it because my eyes were full of tears. I was in shock and heaving, and sobbing all at the same time. It (he) as in, Astro, was limp in my arms as I carried it (he) as in, Astro, home in a massive state of dramatic grief.

Example Human: When I saw that my friend was showcased on the nightly news as dead, I went to his house, and saw no one was home. I dropped to my knees in the street and pounded my fist into the pavement, heaved, and sobbed. My friend had to pull me into her car as I was in a massive state of dramatic grief and quit functioning.

I don't do that at funerals.

Dear Cicero, I never meant to go this way but your experieces have helped me. I to have dealt with death and yours is just as painful. Am sorry to bring this study to this. You can not be alone in your past griefs as will I.

I think we should let this thread go. Death is not easy at any level.

I'd like to speak up for Icile, in case anyone is still under the troll/ sock puppet delusion - I've known him for a few months and he is a genuine case.

And I concur with some of his questions. Anyone who knows me will know this isn't a new position for me. Personally I've cried over animal's deaths. And I mourned the loss of my cats far more than my husband (not death - I walked out on all three of them but I'd have taken the cats if it was fair).

I know when my babbas die I will mourn them more sincerely than any animal yet, just because they give so much back. But never, never, NEVER more than I've hurt over lovers, friends betrayal, the fear I have of a family member dying.

I'm just not that sentimental about animals. I'll look after them to the best of my ability. But they are animals. There seems to be a line drawn in my mind. For example it distresses me when I read people inciting violence against someone who was cruel to animals. I wouldn't call anyone deliberately cruel a friend, but I find it harder to condone deliberate harm to another human being. Maybe I'm just a hard bitch.

a hard bitch?

Oh, my! NOOOOOOOooooooooooooooo! :) You're the sweetest!

Quote:

Originally Posted by icileparadise (Post 448577)

Because that is the custom where you, and I, live, doesn't make it a universal truth. In many parts of the world, animals are viewed as food or tools, only.

Quote:

We look at animals differently. That's all I'm saying. I have a blind woman lives near me and her Guide Dog is astonishing; it crosses a really busy road for her and acts like a human in every caring sense.

No, it acts like a dog... faithful and dedicated to please it's human. That's why losing such a friend is so painful.

I'm astonished that the difficulty of adopting black dogs has been noticed by others and the reasons I felt contributed to it, and more, were so well expressed in the links posted by Cloud. When litters of black or mostly black pups would come in I'd try to get them split up (improved their chances) or reduced in number. Personally, if I had to pick a yellow or black Labrador and all else was equal, I'd go with yellow - my reason is that I invest a lot in my pets both verbally and non-verbally. Black fur around dark eyes makes it harder to enjoy the marvelous expression our canine friends transmit. But mostly it's because dark fur shows up more on the carpet!

In addition to Big Black Dog Syndrome there is Small White Dog Syndrome. Really. But it's a problem with the dog, not the humans who are looking at it.

Quote:

Black fur around dark eyes makes it harder to enjoy the marvelous expression our canine friends transmit.

And almost impossible to take good pictures of.

.......*cry*.

I was so annoyed... there was an animal shelter about an hour away from here that was going to be closing due to lack of funding--a "no kill" shelter, which unfortunately cost a boatload to run simply because of that policy. I circulated an e-mail to all my friends and family to make donations... the deadline was a few days ago. I have to check to see if they made it. I pray they did.

Quote:

Originally Posted by xoxoxoBruce (Post 448800)

And almost impossible to take good pictures of.

If you are blind and superficial.
:D

I am going to disagree with sweetwater on this 100 percent. I am blown away by the superficial comments made about dog selection.

Of course, my dog of choice has always been a Rottweilers.

Quote:

Originally Posted by Cicero (Post 448834)

If you are blind and superficial.
:D

Nonsense, I had a black dog I miss very much, and wish I had a good picture of him. But he was pure black and none of the pictures show detail.

Quote:

I am going to disagree with sweetwater on this 100 percent. I am blown away by the superficial comments made about dog selection.

You can disagree all you want, but if you talk to the people that work in shelters, or even pet stores, black puppies languish.

Cicero, it's not my hangup - I was teasing about the black fur and the furniture. To borrow an expression from Dave Frei, "we consider dog fur a condiment at our house". My experiences dealing with the public has been that solid black dogs and cats are adopted less readily than their buddies. btw, we used to undo some of that hex by giving them bright bandanas. It worked. I don't know why.

well, now we know. Next time you want to adopt a dog or cat--go for black!

Hello everyone, I am Elspodes friend. This is my first post to the Cellar and I thought this was a particularly good place to start.

Last month, I adopted from a near by animal control a wonderful mostly black Papllion/Yorkie??? mix. Darby was bigger than he looked in the pictures, but I took a chance on how he would get along with my Yorkie, Dazzle, and the one my ex kept, Sami. He is 2-3 years old and wonderfully playful. He has been the best dog in the world. He is loving, and smart. He has made a great companion for both Dazzle and me.

I have watched both an aged cancer ridden boxer who had 11 wonderful years with us, and a year old kitten with Feline PV be put to sleep. It is one of the most heart-rending experiences I have ever experienced.

All my animals are fixed, and I intend to help others get theirs done as quickly as possible. My youngest cat was adopted off the street and was sickly at first so we forgot about getting it done. Living with a cat in heat was not fun for it or us.

Oh yeah, forgot to add, my house has all white carpets. Black fir does stand out, but then so does the dirt I track in, their messes, leaves,
dust, ... you name it so the black dog really doesn't matter.

And someone tell me why would anyone want white carpet through out a house. It is going to drive me insane!!! :eek:

I do love my new house though. :)

Hi, Tree Fae!~ Welcome to the Cellar---I love the 'Spode and any friend of his is a friend of mine!

you sound like a responsible and loving pet owner, too :)

And any friend of Brianna's is a friend of mine.
If you ignore those white carpets, before you know it, they won't be anymore. But so what, in the grand scheme of things, clean carpets are pretty low priority... way below the Cellar. :D

Quote:

Originally Posted by xoxoxoBruce (Post 448879)

You can disagree all you want, but if you talk to the people that work in shelters, or even pet stores, black puppies languish.

That isn't part I was disagreeing with. I was disagreeing with the superficial dog selection part.

In fact, sweetwater was just kidding. What were you doing?
:)

I had friends that worked at the humane society...yea...we talked. We also talked about the parameters for the "aggressive tests" that they didn't feel was quite fair.

Hi Tree! We like 'spode!!! Welcome!!
;)

thats a good story for sure. I havent heard a first hand story like that before. I guess I know what happens, but dont really know what happens.