Animal Welfare Archives - Page 2 of 15

Going to Hell with a Leash in My Hand: Pit Bull Advocacy in 2018

01•12•18

When you fall in love with a pit-bull-type dog, your life inevitably changes.

Why inevitably?

Well, for one thing, whether you ever intended to or not, that dog you love turns you into an advocate. You might advocate on behalf of your dog, or you might dive head-first into the world of dog-defender, but you can’t love someone and not defend him or her in the face of slander.

“He seems sweet. But you’ll have him put down when you have kids, right?” One of the very first things said to me and John when we first adopted Emmett–said, I should add, by a complete stranger in a PetSmart aisle.

“The nice dog looks like he could rip your face off, but the mean one is kind of cute.” Said by our movers of Emmett (the “nice one”) and Cooper (the “mean one” who was, in fact, barking his face off at the horde of moving men).

When you fall in love with these dogs, you learn–quickly–some pat responses, comments to diffuse the situation without attacking the person while simultaneously defending your dog. Over the years with Emmett, since I took him everywhere, I honed and refined those comments, but the biggest thing to change hearts and minds was Emmett himself. Someone could be looking at him warily, telling me that they’ve heard dogs like him are vicious, all the while Emmett slowly pushed his nose under the person’s hand until–while they were still talking about being nervous around him–they found themselves rubbing the top of his head.

{{Cooper, on the other hand, distrusts strangers in the outside world, but if you come into our house? Especially if you bring him a squeaky toy? He’ll climb on your lap as soon as you sit down. He’ll never be a breed ambassador, unless it’s in a pile of kittens or babies, but he’s head of the Welcome Wagon at our home!}}

All that said, there’s a degree of expectation when you’re out and about with your pit-bull-type dog or when you mention your dog’s breed in a social setting.

Since I started down this road with Emmett over a decade ago, there’s been a shift. Maybe not a seismic one, but at least a subtle one. People are more aware. They’re more inclined to side with the dogs these days. The amount of education and information available easily combats the mounds of balderdash and misinformation you can find online.

Still.

Sometimes you need a reminder. Sometimes you grow complacent because, to be honest, not being out and about all the time with a pit-bull-type dog, you hear less of it.

Plus, when you’re surrounded by well-educated, compassionate people, it’s easy (for me, anyway) to hear the positive shift rather than the negative craziness. And, of course, it’s easy to dismiss the craziness for what it is: craziness.

Two things happened recently to remind me of my responsibilities as a pit bull advocate: First, I had the opportunity to moderate an incredible panel back in October for National Pit Bull Awareness Day. It featured Ledy VanKavage and Rebecca Huss, and I was honored for the opportunity. A local paper covered the event, and the comments on the online article were… colorful… to say the least, and misinformed, slanderous, and inflammatory to say more.

Then, just a couple weeks ago, I received an email that called into question my parenting: How could I bring a child into a home with a pit-bull-type dog? It was a schizoid email that brought the Ten Commandments into pit bull advocacy (I’m violating the not lying one by saying these are good dogs), and I’m pretty sure he was not-so-subtly implying I’m off to hell: “What will eternity be like for pitbull lovers who have disseminated false information about THE MOST DANGEROUS BREED OF DOG IN THE WORLD…”

Sigh.

While I appreciate that this random gentleman is concerned about me and my eternity, and as much as I’m sure everyone appreciates parenting criticism via email from complete and total strangers, it served as a reminder: Yes, the animal welfare world has made tremendous strides in pit bull advocacy, and that’s something to be incredibly proud of. But, of course, there’s more to do. And I needed that reminder because now that Emmett’s gone, I felt disconnected a bit to that world. This person’s email served to reignite that connection (though I get the sense that wasn’t his goal… insert thinking face emoji here).

Ironically, he closed his email with this little gem: “Take care, my friend, and may God bless you to open your eyes, embrace the truth, and get on His side of this issue. Please know that I am praying for you.”

Funny thing is, I imagine any God–no matter your spiritual or religious tradition–would sit squarely on the side of compassion and honoring life. And, you know, not sending totally random, super critical emails to complete strangers letting them know they’re going to hell, but whatevs!

My takeaway: I relied a ton on Emmett. He did all the hard work, to be honest! I need to find new avenues for advocacy. So, add that to my list of 2018 goals!

Do you have any animal-related goals for the new year? Maybe it’s volunteering at your local shelter? Or making donations? Or maybe it’s figuring out ways to be a better advocate? Or training or walking your own pup more? I’d love to hear from you: What are your animal goals for 2018?

Why animal behavior studies matter

08•08•16

Have you ever had an MRI?

The sights, sounds, and that uncomfortable feeling of lying still in a noisy chamber…

Shudder.

Greg Berns, a scientist at Emory, trained dogs—all future assistance dogs under a year old—to withstand the stress of an MRI machine. He then used the fMRI to map dogs’ brain activities when exposed to dog and human smells.

In Budapest, another scientist did the same thing: trained dogs to withstand 10 minutes in an MRI machine while listening to 200 different human and dog sounds.

The Emory study found that the dogs’ owners’ aroma actually sparked the “reward center” of their brains. Dogs’ brains showed that they prioritized the whiff of their people over anything or anyone else.

In the Budapest study, researchers isolated the part of the dogs’ brain that registered sounds and found that it works exactly like ours (called “the voice area”), which was only discovered in humans in the 1990s.

Other studies conducted at Yale, MIT, and Duke indicate that the emotional centers of dogs’ brains act identically to those of human toddlers.

So, why does this matter?

What does it really mean that dogs’ brains, their emotional centers, act like ours do when we see people we love? Why does it matter that they recognize happy vs sad intonations and act differently based on which they hear?

On the one hand, longtime dog owners scoff at all this research. Why spend a tremendous amount of time, money, and manpower to test something that dog owners already KNOW about the fur under their feet?

On the other hand, though, is the harsh reality of our animal culture. Even among animal lovers and dog owners, lots of people consider an “outside dog” no big deal… but no one would EVER have an “outside toddler.” Their brains process loneliness and loss and love the same way, so what’s the difference?

That right there is why animal studies matter.

A parent in Maryland letting her kid walk a mile to the park? Outrage and calls to Child Protective Service.

But outright, substantial abuse to animal? Often nothing.

Several years ago, a woman in a nearby county was reported by her neighbors for animal hoarding. There were no services in place to either help her or punish her, but 24 dogs were removed from her trailer home. She still got to keep more—around 6, though her neighbors said when she found out that an animal welfare organization was coming, she started ferrying dogs to a friend’s house. The plywood floors in her trailer were so urine-soaked that they squished underfoot.

I helped with those dogs. Their nails were so long, they curled under. They had rotten teeth and ear infections and fleas.

All but one of the dogs were able to be placed in shelters to await their fate.

The woman?

Nothing.

Not one thing happened to her because there weren’t really enough resources to do much of anything and… after all… they’re just dogs.

That is why animal behavior studies matter.

If we can get proof—hard data—to show the depth and intelligence and emotional capacities of dogs, then maybe… just maybe… the justice system can catch up, can use that data to actually prosecute in a meaningful way.

There’s more—so much more—about this topic… about how animal abusers usually use animals as their gateway victims before turning to human victims, so stiffer animal abuse punishments might actually prevent human abuse down the line…

About how researchers have redefined the timeline of human evolution based on a redefined timeline of canine evolution…

About how—if it weren’t for dogs becoming our hunting partners and dwelling protectors—we’d probably have evolved quite differently…

Animal behavior research matters.

If you think so, too, you can always enroll your dog in one of the many ongoing studies—just google “citizen science and dogs” to find possibilities. I recently completed this course (it’s free and fascinating)!

Or, if nothing else, give your dog a hug and a good, long walk. Science has proven that he loves you for it.

The dogs (and cats) of Best Friends Animal Society

06•06•16

It’s easy to love a puppy.

They’re fuzzy and silly. They’re clumsy. You can’t watch a puppy dash and trip and slip and skate across a room without smiling.

They play, sleep, and eat with equal aplomb. And, of course, they have those round Buddha bellies you get to rub when they wriggle around on their backs.

Puppies are easy to love.

And we got to spend the morning at Best Friends Animal Society playing with piles of them…

Puppy Preschool is the name of the building at BFAS where puppies live and play. They attend socialization classes with volunteers–which is what we on the media tour got to do for an entire morning!–where they’re exposed to everything from a doorbell sound and mirrors to skateboards and walkers and really just about anything they might encounter in a home. Those early efforts set them up for long-term success by making them more confident, safe, adjusted pups.

Our batch of puppies had just that morning arrived from quarantine. Not only did we get to socialize (aka… play with…) them all morning, we got to take them on their very first ever leash walk. It was a super fun, hilarious cluster. My puppy crapped out and sat, whining a bit, until I picked him up and carried him for his first walk ever. After socialization and the walk, they went back to their kennel and, well, zonked. See the bottom pic above… Look at the little guy under the cot!

Puppies. You can’t not love them!

Of course, not all animals are as easy as puppies… not all get the start at life that these guys are getting. Those dogs (and cats) have to work so much harder to find homes.

But, for all the work the animals have to put in, the BFAS staff matches their efforts.

Take Houdini, for instance. (Photo courtesy of Best Friends. Mine turned out fuzzy!)

A Hurricane Katrina rescue, Houdini earned his name by escaping every enclosure the rescue tried to keep him in. He ended up at Best Friends and, well, he’s been there ever since. Another volunteer, Jenny, and I got to spend the afternoon with shy pups like Houdini. This sweet guy doesn’t care to be petted by people he doesn’t know and trust (can’t blame him for that one… I don’t like strangers touching me…) and to build up that trust, we got to hand-feed him his dinner. He hung out with us, ate, took some treats, and just kind of absorbed our presence. He’s a senior now, having spent almost his entire life sheltered. He deserves a home for his golden years, a place to feel safe and relaxed, to nap in the sun, and to gobble up food out of someone’s hand. {Here’s his adoption info if you’re interested in sharing! Or taking him home!!! It says German Shepherd mix, but he’s actually pretty medium-ish and short-haired.}

We spent another hour with sweet, shy Annie Sue. (Photo courtesy of Best Friends. I was afraid to snap a pic while we were working with her so that I could stay focused and not derail her progress!)

This girl… I left a piece of my heart in her kennel.

When she came into the kitchen where Jenny and I were washing their bowls, she flattened herself against the wall in the corner. If she could have disappeared into the wall, she would have. She didn’t want to acknowledge us. Her caretaker came in and explained that he’s working on eye contact. He’s getting her to look him in the eye, then he clicks and treats–a lick of a bacon-flavored Lickety Stik. It took her a few minutes to warm up to him, then she was on it! Looking him in the eye and collecting her licks!

He gave us the treats, and we waited… and waited… and waited… After a few minutes, she sneaked furtive glances our way. We rewarded immediately! Even though it wasn’t eye contact exactly, it was an improvement over her efforts to squish herself into invisibility in the corner. We then moved into her kennel. She went back to ignoring us. Jenny and I sat on her cot. She approached… click and treat! Over the next hour, we went through two tubes of bacon-flavored Lickety Stiks and a handful of chicken jerky. All worthwhile when, toward the end, she wagged her tail and licked our hands! When our time was up, Jenny asked the caretaker for two more hours with her, “I’m sure she’ll lick our chins by then!”

I didn’t want to leave her because I felt like we had come so far in just a short hour!

Here’s the thing about Annie Sue: She’s good with dogs. If she had a strong, confident dog to model behavior for her–like an Emmett, not a Cooper–she’d learn so fast! That and someone with lots of patience. {Here’s Annie Sue’s adoption info! Share away! This little girl would be soooo much happier in a quiet, peaceful home!}

Houdini and Annie Sue, along with the other shy dogs we worked with like Kay and Lego, aren’t on the surface as easy to love as puppies. They don’t “fly off the shelves,” so to speak, like puppies do. But their caretakers, every single caretaker we met, love them thoroughly. They dedicate every second of every day to getting to know their individual personalities, to understand and acknowledge their quirks. They love them as individuals, regardless of whether they’re sweet roly-poly puppies or terrified survivors.

Those of us who volunteered in Dogtown in the afternoon got to take a glace around Cat World at the end of the day. Cat World is a misnomer. It should be called Cat Heaven-on-Earth! There were cat trees and perches, cots and bunk beds, climbing furniture and reclining furniture, scratchers, pouncers, and–the epitome of cat heaven–a series of wooden beams running from the floor to the rafters where a series of boards created a sky-high obstacle course. It actually made me a bit nervous watching them sprint up and down and above and over and under at top speed, but they were having a blast!

Some were aloof. Some were friendly. Some were gigantic (of course, I measure against Newt who tops 8 pounds) and some were micro. They all had so much to DO! They weren’t lounging around like bored house cats; they were busy!

And we got to meet the special cats, the ones who have injuries, the ones who have incontinence issues because of a health problem or abuse, the ones who have neurologic disorders. While were were chatting, a cat dashed across the floor dripping pee the whole entire way. He went about his merry business, oblivious to the fact, but a caretaker swooped in behind him with a mop and a wry little smile: Who cares? He’s happy!

Those are the cats, of course, who struggle to find love. Well, to find love in a home. They’re all loved, thoroughly and wholeheartedly, by their caretakers.

That’s the thing about Best Friends: There is no shortage of love. Not anywhere. Not for the incontinent cats who need to be manually expressed every day. Not for the little bunnies or the screeching birds I introduced you to last week. Not for the lovable puppies or for the shy dogs who need so very much.

They all deserve love.

And they all get it at Best Friends.

We all left our time there with one story of compassion: Sure, they all belong in forever homes, and it would be best if they found their family sooner than later. But if they have to be anywhere else while waiting for that home, Best Friends is the best place in the world for any animal.

To learn more about the cats, check out this post from Glogirly. There’s a pic of me and my friend, adoptable Tara. Also, be sure to read her post about Angel’s Rest.

To learn more about the no-kill efforts, check out this post on Big Think.

To learn more about Best Friends or to search for an adoptable animal, check out their website.

It was an incredible trip. Truly life changing. I’m already brainstorming my next trip out there. I was so lucky and so grateful to have been included on this media tour. I have so much more to say and to share, but if there are any questions YOU have about Best Friends or my experience there, please leave them in the comments so I can be sure to address them!

Pigs and bunnies and horses… oh, my!
A life-changing visit to Best Friends Animal Society: Day 1

05•23•16

There’s an easy way, and there’s a hard way.

The easy way slopes upward, but gradually and the rocks form a natural staircase.

The hard way follows the same path, but it’s a slick, steep rock with few toeholds. There’s a prickly bush that catches your pants and branches too thin to use for balance but thick enough and at just the right height to get you in the face.

We’re going to take the hard way.

Cyrus Mejia, co-founder of Best Friends Animal Society, says the easy way belongs to the rattlesnakes. Each time he hiked Turtle Canyon along the easy route, he encountered the snakes. So, one day, he hiked up and struck a deal with the rattlers: We’ll climb the hard way from here on out as long as you stay on your side, the easy side. The snakes agreed, and so he hikes the hard way… and hasn’t ever encountered a snake on that path.

Anywhere else, from anyone else, I might not have believed it. But Cyrus? I believed Cyrus.

There’s an easy way, and there’s a hard way.

“Save them all” is the hard way.

It’s hyperbolic. Grandiose. Save them all? Really?

Yes, really. If it can be done, Best Friends will do it.

I was elated when I received an invitation to spend a few days at the sanctuary on a sponsored media tour. To be honest, I didn’t read the details of the email; I just said YES! Even if I had read it–tours of Horse Haven and Piggy Paradise, puppy socialization class, a hike to Turtle Canyon with one of the sanctuary’s co-founders, and so much more–I still wouldn’t have believed just how much the experience exceeded every high expectation I had.

The first morning we–there were 6 of us–piled into cars to head to the sanctuary. The refrain was, “I am SO excited.” Everyone was gushing, which is unusual for a media tour when most people (not me… never me…) play it cool. As we passed the giant orange sign marking the entrance, tears filled my eyes (see? never cool).

This is the place that saved all those animals in Katrina and the place that saved the Vicktory dogs–and still cares for 6 of them. This is the place of Dogtown and The Champions. This is the place of Angels Rest.

We arrived, climbed in a tour bus, and rattled off to Horse Haven. As we stepped off the bus, two women called out. One led a miniature pony–Uncle Feather–and the other led an awkward, gangly foal. They yelled for us to stop, led the horses to a pasture, locked the gate, and called us over.

The foal, Little Prince, was four weeks old.

He had that morning been released from quarantine, and we were about to witness his very first moments of play, unrestrained and free.

The woman you see in the pasture is a trainer, and she kept saying that as much as she wanted to snuggle and pat and hug Prince, it wouldn’t help him learn to be an appropriate horse. Instead, she kept shooing him out of her “bubble” so he starts to learn boundaries. It was a common theme throughout the trip: The welfare of the animals factors above everything else, even your desire to snuggle a precious foal with a baby mane.

From there, to the potbellied pigs. I fell in love. They’re hilarious and smart and sweet. I gave a big boy named Jared a belly rub and swooned over the piglets squeaking away in their pen. I could’ve stayed all day, but we were whisked to goats where the cutest little goat tried to eat the zipper off my sweatshirt as I gave him a back massage.

Back on the bus and off to birds. The birds are worth their own post by someone who knows birds better than I, but my impressions: They are loud. And feisty. And also very funny. They’re brilliant; an African grey named Cody kept making fun of us with a fake-polite laugh. We clicker trained cockatiels to touch a target stick and rewarded them with millet. The exercise helps them get weighed without force.

But I feel for those birds. I can see how people get in over their heads thinking a bird will be an easy pet, and those birds were anything but easy. And the noise… My ears rang for an hour after! Their caretaker was fabulous. She loved and doted on them. She knew each bird individually, their quirks and personality traits. And she told us all about bird breeding, how it’s akin to puppy mills, and the problem–the crisis, she called it–is confounded by how long the birds live. We met a Mealy Amazon named Paco who was born in 1957. It was gut-wrenching to see the birds who, in their homes, had been so stressed that they plucked out all their own feathers, leaving their bodies looking like a plucked chicken while their vibrant, expressive plumes showed the bird they were before. One even sported a leather vest because he was addicted to self-mutilation. {To learn more}

We then went to the bunnies, which was the literal opposite of the birds: quiet, calm, peaceful. Their caretaker was adorable. When she talked for the bunnies–as we all do with our own pets–she had this adorable affectation. It was clear how much she adored the bunnies (and Guinea pigs) in her care. It illustrated so perfectly the ethos at Best Friends: every single life matters. By the way, the bunnies are also clicker trained!

At lunch–the sanctuary has a vegetarian cafeteria–we ate with a handful of the co-founders. I was thrilled to sit and chat with Gregory Castle about all sorts of things, but mostly reactive dogs.

Then, we met Cyrus for the most spectacular hike of my entire life. One of my new friends on the media tour made the point that none of our photos were turning out because they’re just not immersive. You can’t get the sense of being engulfed by 200-million-year-old rocks.

We climbed–the hard way–to the top of Turtle Canyon. We saw the remaining elements of a home of basket dwellers, people who pre-dated pottery. Protected by the elements in a small cave, the home structure, hearth, and cooking stones are entirely enact (as is Mormon graffiti from 1919). We saw petroglyphs carved in the walls: a shaman holding a snake, circles, waves, another snake.

We arrived at Angels Rest. I can’t do it justice. It’s beauty and magic. I cried. A lot. If we hadn’t been in a group on a tour, I would’ve sat on a bench and wept.

The hike down felt easy compared to the way up, but I was so emotionally drained after Angels Rest that it felt slower, too. At the bottom, exhausted, we climbed back into the cars. Covered in dust and filled with hope and love, we went back to the hotel for a rest before dinner.

And all that?

All that was before we met a single dog.

The “pit bull problem” isn’t a pit bull problem

02•23•16

It’s an all-dog problem.

Or, I should say, it’s a problem for all dogs.

Because what the “pit bull problem” really is, is a complete and utter misunderstanding of what dogs are and how they behave. (And how they should be treated, but that’s part of the what dogs are question, too.)

Did you guys see this?

Toronto’s pit bulls are almost gone. So why are there more dog bites than ever?

Honestly, this is what pit bull advocates have been shouting from the rooftops for forever, right?

Breed-specific legislation will never be the answer. Never ever.

Ever.

Here’s the thing: We are a dog-driven, dog-heavy, dog-saturated society. Even if you’re not a dog person, if you live here among the rest of us, you probably can’t go a day without seeing at least one dog. In your neighbor’s yard, walking past your office building, jogging in the park, on television, in advertisements, in statues and on greeting cards and on and on.

Dogs are everywhere.

That’s wonderful, of course, because they sure make life great.

But it’s also damaging (to dogs) because it’s all-too-easy for us to forget: Just because they’re part of human life around every twist and turn, they are a whole other species with a whole other set of needs, behaviors, and quirks.

Right? We can all agree to that, right? Dogs aren’t people.

So, here’s where the dog problem comes in: By forgetting that they’re a separate species, we (I’m using “we” generically, here, so please don’t take offense… I’m sure you’re a lovely dog person) treat them unfairly. We (again, generically) turn them into shelters because they bark too much or jump on our granny or–gasp–bite our children.

Our expectations–dogs are part and parcel of human life, so obviously they’ll know the rules we want them to know because obviously they’re dogs, duh–do not align with the reality of inviting another species into our homes.

Dogs languish in shelters, dogs lose their lives, dogs get sentenced to a life chained in the backyard because our expectations do not align with the reality of having another species woven into the fabric of our lives.

And that isn’t breed-specific.

I will not disagree with those of you who cry out that there are some dogs who do not belong with families, who are unsafe to be in our homes. Yes, there are some. They are oh-so-few, though, and many labeled as such (Lucas.) can be incredible family pets if treated, trained, fed, exercised, etc. correctly.

And that isn’t a breed-specific distinction, either.

Let’s set aside the emotion of breed-specific legislation for a sec, that intense, gut-wrenching pain of family dogs being taken from their homes or never even given a chance to have a home because of how they look.

Set that aside for just a sec.

Looking at it from a purely logical standpoint: Wouldn’t it make far more sense to focus on teaching people how to understand and how to train dogs? Wouldn’t it make far more sense to focus on behavior–of both dog and human–than outward appearance? Heck, we humans learn from the youngest age never to judge a book by a cover or a person by their skin, so how can we not apply that same logic to dogs?

It makes no rational sense.

I get that this is an oversimplification. I do. I get that it entails all sorts of things like how to actually deliver that education and how to overcome our culture of violence and how to (finally) link domestic abuse and animal abuse and, taking that even further, how to focus on rehabilitation not just a punitive approach (again, dogs and humans) and on and on.

I get it. It’s complicated.

But I also think we’ve so over-complicated some of the most basic issues with “the pit bull problem” that we’ve ignored the fundamental problem: a lack of understanding of dogs. Just dogs. Any breed.

Because, at the end of the day, we can all acknowledge that BSL doesn’t work. (And, by “we” I’m still generalizing because there’s a small subset of the population that refuses to acknowledge data and science over fear and emotion.)

So, let’s stop talking about breed, eh? (<— Canadian reference as a nod to the Toronto data!)

Let’s use our heads and start talking about the things that really matter, the things that will keep dogs happy and healthy in homes, the things that will decrease dog bites.

Because it sure isn’t a breed ban.