Reyna Martinez of
Phoenix waited in line with a sweet-faced, 40-pound, floppy-eared
mutt named Coco. She was moving from a house to an apartment that
wouldn't accept pets Coco's size. Her children were heartbroken to
lose the only dog they had ever loved.
This was just the
beginning of a day of dramas during a recent Saturday at the Arizona
Humane Society in Sunnyslope.
Even before the Humane Society
opened that morning at 9, people holding pets were waiting in line
to turn in animals.
One woman, still sleepy-eyed and in her
pajamas, waited in line holding a wet bird with no feathers on its
neck. She had found it while walking her dog earlier that
morning.
Another woman carrying a crate of kittens soon
followed. The stories varied, but the result was the same: too many
unwanted animals waiting for a home.
Maricopa County has the
second highest turn-in rate of unwanted animals in the United
States.
Between Maricopa County Animal Care & Control
and the Arizona Humane Society, an estimated 85,000 to 90,000
animals are taken in per year. That's enough to fill every seat in
US Airways Center five times over. The only area with higher intakes
is Los Angeles, according to a 2005 survey by the Society of Animal
Welfare Administrators.
By 9:03 a.m. all nine kennels in the
Humane Society's front lobby were filled with dogs. The traffic
continued non-stop until the doors closed at 5 p.m.
The
number of cats, dogs and small animals taken in on this slow
Saturday came to 212. As the lobby began to fill, each person took a
number to bring order as new arrivals filtered in. Dogs were told by
their owners to sit still while they reached to sniff new
surroundings.
Kittens, kittens and more kittens
arrived.
The top reasons given for surrendering animals are:
owner moving, behavior, no time, too many pets, and cost. Others
bring by stray animals they had rescued.
Client service
coordinator Mary Ellen Morales has worked the intake counter for
nearly five years.
"I'm not going to hurt you," she said to
the new arrivals, sometimes giving them a gentle pat.
As many
of the animals as possible are put up for adoption, Humane Society
officials say. Last year, about 44,000 animals were taken in at the
Sunnyslope facility, with 18,000 placed into homes or sent to rescue
groups in the Valley.
Others are euthanized.
"People
are under the assumption we are a no-kill shelter," Morales
said.
That's not the case. To be adopted, animals must pass
health and temperament tests.
In a dog evaluation room, Andy
Gallo, 27,one of four people who assess animals, pointed his camera
at a pit bullterrier that had been returned after being adopted from
the facility as a puppy. A photo is taken of each new arrival to go
along with paperwork.
Many animals arrive with severe
temperament problems. Some are just scared and will need time to
settle their nervousness.
"We cannot put anyone at risk,
including any of our staff or volunteers," Gallo said. "After years
of experience, you learn what to look for."
Still, the
process is intense, and evaluators receive extensive training to
make decisions. These decisions weigh heavily on Gallo's heart, but
he knows they need to be made.
In the cat evaluation room,
20-year-old Mackenzie Reetz cuddled kittens and soothed frightened
adult cats as they cowered in their crates. Strange smells, dog
barks and the accumulated nervous energy of all of the pets was
thick in the air. Rows of crates holding cats waiting for evaluation
multiplied quicker than Reetz could process them.
A fluffy,
white, blue-eyed kitten looked up from the most recently opened
crate full of kittens. Very young kittens separated from their
mothers need extra attention and bottle feeding every few hours. The
Humane Society doesn't have the resources to do this, especially
now, when kitten births are at their highest.
When Reetz
checked their teeth and realized these kittens were too young to eat
on their own, she knew they had to be euthanized. When the shelter
is full and foster care isn't available, there is no other
option.
Reetz estimated that 15 litters had arrived with
kittens that needed more care than the shelter could
offer.
Since May 1, the Humane Society has been receiving 850
cats and kittens per week. The intake of cats is up 45 percent this
year compared with 2005.
"To say our feline intake is
skyrocketing is an understatement," said Jill Van Tuyl, vice
president of operations.
In the Second Chance Hospital, an
infirmary for injured or wounded animals, a groggy pit bull went
into and out of consciousness. He had been shot twice, and an X-ray
by clinic veterinarian Eric Wika revealed fragments of bullets in
both rear legs. The dog was kept comfortable, but with the amount of
damage, he had to be put to sleep.
Nearby, foster-care
coordinator Sheila Lampert helped veterinarian Barbara Capwell as
she removed stitches from a 13-year-old shitzu with an injured back.
The dog was turned in by its owner and when fully healed would be
placed on the adoption floor, Lampert said, explaining that age
isn't a consideration when it comes to saving pets'
lives.
There is one area, however, that was full of hope -
the adoption center.
"I want this puppy," a little boy
squealed with glee as an entire litter, tails wagging, ran up to the
kennel's edge.
At 6 p.m., an hour after closing, Charlotte
Childress grabbed a broom to sweep up the hairballs, tattered ticket
numbers and dirt from the day. For the first time that day, the
shelter was peaceful.
At 9 the next morning, it would start
all over again.
