A visit to the animal shelter

Last March, I went to the US, as a scholar of the Humane Society International and the Humane Society of the United States. Part of the scholarship included undergoing a week-long training on shelter operations at the Pasadena Humane Society and SPCA (Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals). PAWS President Nita Hontiveros-Lichauco accompanied me on the trip.

I got the scholarship by virtue of the animal welfare work I've done for the Philippine Animal Welfare Society since 1997.

Working for PAWS, a purely volunteer group, is challenging, to say the least. People were always dropping from the rolls simply because we were doing animal rescues on our own. We would take time off from work, pay for our own taxi just to rescue dogs that have been run over, or to respond to reports of animal cruelty.

Not only that, most times, we've had to speak up for an animal being treated cruelly, which meant stepping on a lot of people's toes and spending a lot of money on follow-up calls, food and "goodwill," i.e. giving a box of ensaymada to the local barangay tanod, buying a longer leash for that dog whose owner never really took you seriously when you gently reminded him that the animal could use a extra foot or two of leash so that it could lie on its side at night, and so on.

The trip was a sort of reward and at the same time, it was going to be a learning experience.

How the shelter is run

Early in the morning, we were picked up by Karen Terpstra, assistant executive director of the Pasadena Humane Society and SPCA, the second highest position at the shelter. Karen, who couldn't be more than 30, apologized for the mess inside her vehicle and explained that she often brought her dog Beau, to work. Turns out, a number of shelter employees bring their pets to office and that all their cars had wisps of dog or cat fur and a distinct doggie or kitty smell.

My first thought when I saw the smooth gray façade of the PHSSPCA, was that it looked like a government office. There was old building which had an admission desk where they took in rescued animals. There was a parking lot in the middle and then there was the new building where people went to adopt pets. There was wisdom in this strategy: It wouldn't be a good idea for frustrated pet owners and sick or newly-rescued dogs to meet up with a happy family going home with a newly-adopted healthy pet.

We were shown the kennel which could house over 100 dogs. It looked like a showcase for our local pet stores because there were Chow-Chows, German Shepherd mixes up for adoption. I could not believe that some of these dogs were actually picked up from the streets.

Despite being a cold and drizzly day, a few dogs remained standing at the uncovered portion of their kennels. What happens to them in the winter? I wondered.

Karen pointed to the covered portion of the kennel. "It has heated floors," she explained. When it's cold or when the animals want privacy, they simply go into their "rooms." Later we found out that one sign that an animal is not sociable or "adoptable" is if it always stayed inside the covered area, hidden from public view.

We climbed a stairway and at the top was an aviary where small rescued birds were kept. "Sometimes people bring in birds who are injured or are lost," Karen said as she pointed out some colorful lovebirds. Nita and I were impressed that they also had bird facilities. "Wait till you see the alligator that we have in one of the kennels!" Karen said.

The ABCs of kindness

An integral part of shelter operations is humane education. Liz Boronowski showed us the teaching room, which housed rabbits, chinchillas, parrots and snakes - these are animals the shelter keeps as pets and which are also used as teaching tools. "There is nothing like showing kids a living, breathing animal to hold their attention," Liz said.

We came to the auditorium which looked like a typical classroom, only bigger and could hold about 70 students. A few minutes later, kids (aged 5 to 6 years old) from a Lutheran school filed into the room. It was a school field trip and some of the parents had accompanied their kids. Liz introduced herself and told the kids about the shelter. "It is a place were stray, injured animals are brought. There are some animals which were given up by their owners because they couldn't take care of them anymore," she said.

Liz drew a dog on the board and asked the children what a dog needed. Hands were raised and I expected that the first answers would revolve around food, water and shelter. I half-fell off my seat when the first five-year-old answered, "A collar." I was impressed. These youngsters had a high level of awareness of responsible pet ownership!

Liz proceeded to draw a collar on the dog. Then a doggie dish, when the answers "food" and "water" came in. The kids also mentioned "vaccination shots" (to protect them from getting sick, a young boy explained) and a leash.

"There is one thing you missed," Liz said pointing to a circle she drew on the board. "What is this other important thing a dog needs?"

The kids came up with several answers - name, address, telephone number of the owner - which were all still correct.

The answer Liz was looking for came from a five-year-old: "A license!"

Cockatoo sees red

During all the humane education classes I attended, I noticed that humane educators avoided spoon-feeding children with information. Instead, they posed questions and made them think.

When the children became restless, Liz brought out her "secret weapons" - a chinchilla (she wrote this long word on the board and asked the children to read it out loud) and a cockatoo. She let the kids stroke the chinchilla - a small white furry creature which was about a foot long and had the face of a mouse - with their index fingers. However, she did not let them touch the cockatoo, whom I've heard, could be pretty jumpy and dangerous with its sharp claws. During that session, the cockatoo walked from Liz's hand to her neck and looked nervous. Liz stood very still and asked the children not to make any loud noises. I half-wanted to rise from my seat to assist her but thought better of it since I did not know how to remove the bird from her neck.

She surprised me by suddenly introducing me to the kids and told them I came from the Philippines. As all heads turned to me at the back of the room, Liz asked me to talk about birds native to my country. I stood up, cleared my throat and said that where I lived, there were little brown birds called mayas. I hoped my answer did not sound as asinine as I thought it did but then I saw Liz gently prying the parrot from her neck. I realized that she was just trying to divert the kids' attention so that she could concentrate on removing the cockatoo.

After the session, she Liz that the bird had dug its claws into her shoulder and that she wanted to cry out in pain but had to keep her composure for the kids. "Hazards of the job," she said, "I should have known better than to bring the cockatoo out. Did you notice that half of the kids were wearing bright red? He hates red (or other bright colors). It gets him all jumpy and excited."

Going for a ride

The Pasadena Humane Society also doubles as animal control. This is usually the government's task: picking up stray, unleashed dogs but PHSPCA is one of the few shelters in the country paid by local government to include animal control as one of its services.

We were introduced to John F. Gutierrez, one of the animal control officers who took us for a ride on his special "Animal Rescue" vehicle.

John wore a uniform similar to the police and the way he carried himself gave you the impression that he was a guy you did not mess around with. He took great pride in his job and showed us all the animal handling equipment. The various compartments at the back of the vehicle could fit toy dogs as well as big dogs like a Great Dane or a cougar.

As we drove along the clean streets of Pasadena, he explained that he could arrest people who were being cruel to animals. The radio that they used is hooked up to the local police because sometimes, cases of cruelty could turn into a violent encounter with the owner. For instance, a man who turned out to be a drug dealer, unleashed his pitbulls to attack him. He recounted how he used a special bat to shield himself from the dog.

Since animal control officers patrol solo, they are required to call in their location at periodic intervals so that the office can refer him to the local police at his last location if he fails to call in.

Part of his job includes picking up dead animals from the streets. As if to illustrate his point, the vehicle jerked to a sudden stop and he stepped out to peel one flattened squirrel in the middle of the road. The brown creature was barely visible, and I commented that he must have very good eyesight.

"Problem is," he said with half a grin. "I see dead animals even when I'm off duty." And since he does not have the vehicle with the special refrigerated compartments for carcasses with him, he has to call it in.

Today, John received two calls, one involving cruelty to a dog, and the other was from an 82-year old lady who phoned in a request for the shelter to pick up the body of her beloved dog.

The first turned out to be a prank call because we arrived at an empty house. The second was heart-wrenching. We met the small, elderly woman who was beside herself with grief at the loss of Poppy, a small white dog who was attacked and killed by her other dog. Poppy stayed with her inside the house while the bigger, more aggressive one, stayed in the yard. That day, she had forgotten to shut the door. Poppy was munching on a piece of beef jerky when she was attacked. She died instantly.

"I tried to revive her with a little whiskey," the old woman sobbed. "That worked with one of my old dogs before, but it didn't this time. The big dog caught her in the neck and she didn't have a chance."

The old woman held on to John's arm for support, as she led him into the house. She stopped crying momentarily to look curiously at us as we kept in step behind them. The officer assured her that we were visiting interns from another shelter and that it was okay to let us inside the house. When we reached the spot, John put on his gloves and very gently lifted the box which contained the body of the small dog.

"I got her from your shelter, " she said referring to the PHSPCA. "I said I didn't want her. I wanted a Great Dane," said the woman who was barely five feet tall and reminded me of Estelle Getty of The Golden Girls.

"The shelter people - they said, no, an old woman like you does not need a Great Dane. Yes, that's what they said even if I insisted that I needed a big dog to protect me. They gave me this tiny piece of a dog instead, and I said Phooey!"

"But she was the sweetest thing," she said softly with a slight catch in her voice. "Now I don't know what I'd do without her." (Conclusion next week)