Louisiana's lead ACO weighs in on Hollywood

LA SPCA's Kathryn Destreza gives this shelter dog a big smooch.

It seems not all animal control officers are as angry as I am about the way Hollywood portrays them.

Earlier I posted an entry about the subject (Hollywood depicts ACOs as the bad guys again, March 18, 2009).

So I was surprised when I received the following note from Kathryn Destreza, director of humane law enforcement for the Louisiana SPCA. Rather than pointing fingers at the entertainment industry, she's turned the blame back on those ACOs who fuel the negative images. That's what I call big-picture thinking. No wonder she's garnered so much respect in the field.

A COOL KAT SPEAKS OUT

"Although I have not seen Hotel For Dogs, I have seen Turner and Hooch, Man's Best Friend, and other movies where animal control officers are depicted as over-confident, or bumbling idiots who don't seem to know one end of a snare pole from the other.

As a professional in the field for more than 17 years, I am asked if I get angry when I see that. Honestly, not really. Because I know the people I have the honor to work with in this field, and I take comfort in knowing how professional we have become. This field is light years from where it was when I started, and we are striving to become even better. Our communities see this too.

On the other hand, there are people in the animal control field that could be better ambassadors for us. That's the reality of any profession. And those people make me angry because they are real, and they have affected the lives of some family or some animal in a negative way. Instead of changing Hollywood's portrayal of us, let's change the percentage of us that still put that image out there."

- Kathryn Destreza, director of humane law enforcement and chief humane officer for the Louisiana SPCA

Hollywood depicts ACOs as the bad guys again

Whatcom Humane Society ACO Paul Evans enjoys a breath of fresh air with a shelter dog he adores.

A fast-moving film plot needs a villain. And when the story revolves around animals, there's an easy target.

Animal control officers are consistently cast to play that part.

ACOs are convenient scapegoats. It's true that every profession faces the critical eye of art sometimes. But has there ever been a positive portrayal of the work done by ACOs, who are on the front lines saving animals from heartbreaking circumstances?

Lady and the Tramp. Shaggy D.A. And now the latest film sensation, Hotel for Dogs. In each, ACOs are portrayed as "blundering villains who are awkwardly incompetent and enthusiastically sadistic in their treatment of canines," says Mark Kumpf, president of the National Animal Control Officers Association based in Kansas.

I've ridden along with ACOs many times in a multitude of communities. Watching them at work, I saw that they aren't just "dog catchers" -- they are first responders just like police, fire and ambulance workers. In California, for example, ACOs are required by law to report cases of child abuse when they encounter them. Abused animals often indicate that children in the home might be in trouble, too.

Penny Cistaro is now the executive director of Whatcom Humane Society in northern Washington State. But when she started out in animal sheltering 30 years ago, her career began as an ACO.

What she saw out there still haunts her.

And while all animal rescuers are exposed to stomach-turning images of cruelty and neglect, ACOs see much more than most because they arrive on the scene first.

This past summer, I interviewed an ACO who had just attended the scene of a head-on collision. One of the drivers, a woman on her way out to celebrate her 30th birthday, had her two dogs in the car with her. An ambulance took the woman to hospital. And ACOs were tasked with saving her dogs. One of the dogs died in his rescuer's arms on the way to the shelter.

As a society, we are all responsible for the epic pet overpopulation crisis. Villianizing the people who have dedicated their careers to being part of the solution doesn't make sense.

Yes, it's just a movie. But it's no fun being constantly belittled on the big screen for doing difficult and heroic work that you pour your heart and soul into. No wonder the burnout rate is outrageously high. Leaving the job before the first year is up isn't uncommon.

Isn't it time we give ACOs the respect they deserve?

Now that would be a happy Hollywood ending.

Kathryn Destreza, Louisiana SPCA's director of humane law enforcement, romps in the shelter yard with a rambunctious pit bull.

Animal control officers fight back in this editorial

By Mark Kumpf

The quintessential negative depiction of the "dog catcher" in American movies and television has once again been cast in the film Hotel for Dogs. Following the cinematic tradition of Shaggy D.A. and Lady and the Tramp, animal control officers are portrayed as film antagonists: blundering villains who are awkwardly incompetent and enthusiastically sadistic in their treatment of canines.

While those associated with the film should be lauded for their off-screen efforts to promote proper dog care, nutrition, exercise and the adoption of homeless animals, the unfortunate typecasting of animal control officers in film continues to be an affront to the thousands of professionals across the country dedicated to promoting ethical and responsible animal care and ownership.

The National Animal Control Association (NACA) was established in 1978 as an independent, nonprofit organization fostering the highest standards of professionalism in the practice of animal control. As the primary professional association for animal control practitioners, NACA members participate in extensive instructional programs with the goal of improving their knowledge and skills in order to protect the animals and the communities
they serve.

Each day, our membership of 3,400 animal control officers, agencies and affiliated state members are at work in urban and rural communities across the country. These hardworking professionals are responsible for transporting a significant percentage of the estimated six to eight million cats and dogs entering shelters every year. Often they also care for and treat them.

Between 600,000 and 750,000 of these animals (nearly 30% of dogs) are reunited with their families annually, and approximately half are adopted from the more than 5,000 shelters operating across the country. And that is thanks partly to animal control officers. They are also called upon to safely and compassionately euthanize tens of thousands of dogs, cats and other animals too injured, sick or aggressive to be adopted. Or in the most unfortunate circumstances, such as space and budgetary constraints.

Animal control officers investigate thousands of animal cruelty cases and are often called upon to testify in court. They perform their duties and protect the public. Sometimes that comes at great personal risk, whether attempting to free a terrified trapped pet, facing a wild, diseased animal or rescuing animals from abusive and neglectful environments. Officers have been threatened, injured and even killed in the line of duty, shuttering puppy mills, investigating cases of animal cruelty, and prosecuting organizers of dog fighting and blood sports.

The cinematic adaptation of Lois Duncan's 1971 book Hotel for Dogs is certainly entertaining to young audiences. What dog lover wouldn't love to imagine himself as the keeper of an inn for canines, a "Dalmatian plantation", or a similar facility based on breed of preference? However, NACA encourages adults to explain to young moviegoers that the film's "dog catchers" are a slanderous portrayal of the highly trained, compassionate and professional animal control officers patrolling our streets to rescue animals in need.


Mark Kumpf
President
National Animal Control Officers Association
http://www.nacanet.org

Mark Kumpf is also the Director of Montgomery County, Ohio's Animal Resource Center.

Dogs rescued from neglect won't suffer any longer

This dog spent his days in the darkness of this dirty shed. Note his nose poking out from the bottom left corner of the yellow door.

Even the sweetest day of the year doesn’t give dedicated rescuers in the field pause from heartbreak.

While many people celebrated love with their heart throbs on Valentine’s Day, I was consoling a New Orleans animal control officer whose heart had been torn apart. You met 22-year-old Melanie Fenwick last week. She’s the red-haired rescuer who came upon three dogs existing on a trash-strewn, derelict property.

The place is like so many others that litter the post-Katrina wasteland. Buildings that were submerged under dirty floodwaters are moldy, tattered shells.

In this case, two three-year-old pit bulls were being housed in dark, dilapidated sheds. The third, a five-month-old puppy, was clamoring to escape from the cab of a junked pick-up truck.

During one site visit, Melanie found a dog tethered on a heavy chain next to a burning pile of debris. There wasn’t even a bowl of water to quench his thirst as he sat breathing in the toxic fumes.

Melanie and her partner Travis Causey hoped they could orchestrate a happy ending to this story. They instructed the dogs’ guardian to make changes towards improving their welfare.

“Those pictures were not the worst ones,” said Fenwick, referring to the photographs posted to the blog story, Officers help dogs living in dismal conditions, February 10, 2009.

There isn’t a happily-ever-after ending for these dogs.

On Friday, the case went to court. The owner struck a plea bargain. He agreed to relinquish his two older dogs to the Louisiana SPCA. In exchange, some charges were dropped – a neighbor had spotted one of his dogs roaming at large, and none of them had rabies vaccinations. But the neglect charges stuck, and he pled guilty to three counts. One for each dog.

Now the fate of the two dogs turned over to LA SPCA had to be decided.

Prospects for pit bulls needing homes are grim at best, hopeless at worst. Most shelters I visit are overloaded with them. Many shelters won’t even put them up for adoption, fearing liability to their organization, or mistreatment of the animals. Pits are often euthanized upon arrival. Some organizations will consider adopting well-behaved pit bulls if the dog -- and the potential adopter -- pass rigorous assessments.

Louisiana SPCA does place pit bulls. But tragically, the dogs rescued in this case have several strikes against them. They aren’t babies anymore. At three years of age, people will look right past them and gravitate towards the plentiful puppies. And they tested positive for heartworm. The mosquitoes nurtured by the steamy climate of the bayou carry the parasites. The disease is expensive to treat and requires weeks of quiet rest. It’s not practical to offer this peaceful convalescent environment in the shelter’s chaotic setting.

And the pit bulls seized have other marks against them -- significant scarring to the skin that might be viewed as battle scars.

“We don’t want them fought, and we don’t want people coming into the shelter thinking, ‘Oh, this is a good fighting dog,’ ” Melanie said. “Nothing with scars goes up.”

The dogs were scheduled to die soon, this past Friday or Saturday perhaps. I don’t know if they are still alive. If they are, their time is coming. Possibly as you are reading this. Take some comfort in knowing that, unlike how they were treated in life, their deaths will be handled with humanity and compassion.

If you feel compelled to act and memorialize them, there is something important that you can do. Educate someone you know who is thinking of breeding their companion animal. Whether they own a pit bull or another type of animal, you will be saving lives. There is an epic overpopulation crisis. There are simply not enough homes. It’s time for all of us to act.

Back in New Orleans, the sheds where the dogs lived in misery have already been torn down by the landlord.

“His house really shouldn’t be inhabited,” Melanie said. “He didn’t have a proper place to put the dogs.”

Melanie won her case. But she’s frustrated. The win begets a loss. Unlike people who minister to human beings, animal rescuers aren’t just tasked with saving their charges. In many cases, they are also responsible for deciding who lives, and who dies.

Melanie consoles herself with the knowledge that their last few days at the shelter will likely be the best times for these dogs. And like most rescuers I meet, she’s more worried about the dog going home than the ones scheduled to die. The five-month-old puppy will be returned to his guardian this week. Melanie will be back to check on him soon.

“I care about the well-being of the dogs,” she said. “It’s good that they’re not going to spend the rest of their lives on the end of a chain. They won’t have to live through that again. At least they’ll have shelter and food until the end."

Officers help dogs living in dismal conditions

A dog's nose peeks out from the left corner of the door when officers arrive. Photo courtesy of the Louisiana SPCA.

I’ve got another illuminating update from the field filed by webmaster Shelly Patton of the Louisiana SPCA. She’s been riding along with animal control again.

Her story struck me hard. I felt like I was riding along with her. But what resonated most was the importance of citizen involvement. Filing a report when you witness animal neglect or cruelty can change an animal’s destiny.

Sometimes taking action involves a bit of legwork. Animal control for a particular region might be handled by the city, or contracted to an independent agency such as an animal welfare organization. If at first you don’t track down the organization with proper authority, don’t give up. Ask around. Over the years, I’ve reported many people in a multitude of cities. The results were satisfying.

As you’ll find out when you read Shelly’s story, a few telephone calls on your part can make a dramatic difference to an animal’s treatment. We owe it to the animals to speak out and get involved. If we don’t, who will?

Here's what Shelly reported:

Officers Travis Causey and Melanie Fenwick had been at the address the previous day responding to a “roaming at large” call. The first thing they noticed when they arrived was a pit bull puppy in the cab of a blue pick-up truck. The puppy was excited by our arrival. Jumping at the window, he was clawing to get out and greet them.

Walking past the truck, they climbed the weather worn stairs and knocked on the door. They surveyed the yard below. Debris was everywhere. The yard had the junkyard appearance so common in low-income areas.

Just past the driveway sat the pickup truck nestled in overgrown vegetation. The truck was waiting for “someday” to arrive. Its hood was opened in a silent scream. The passenger window was hanging precariously in its frame. The back right tire was deflated and the truck bed was filled with debris. At this point, it was nothing more than a kennel. A dangerous kennel.

Hearing the door open behind them, Melanie and Travis turned and told the man answering that they were there responding to a complaint. They asked if he had seen any strays roaming. “No. No dogs,” he said. “The only dogs I seen are mine. I have them out back. Want to see them?” He spoke of his dogs with a sense of pride. He didn’t think he was doing anything wrong.

As the man walked them around to the back, he was questioned about the puppy in the truck cab.

The backyard was worse than the front: overgrown, littered with empty bags of dog food, dirty cracked buckets, cans scattered about, broken furniture, discarded piles of plywood, and trash.

A dilapidated shed stood to the right. It had no doors or windows. Even sections of the exterior walls were missing. The inside was falling apart, just a framework with crumbled sheetrock hanging here and there. Years of dust and grime held it together. The floor was a build-up of paper, sheetrock, 2x4s, and filth. This shed was home to a white female pit bull. The 10-foot chain securing her to the doorframe was G80, a large, heavy tow chain. Perhaps at one point the chain had belonged to the truck out front. Now it was dead weight around the dog’s neck.

Beyond the first shed sat a second. This shed had a door and tightly boarded windows. The only light filtering into this enclosure came through a hole in the bottom left corner of the door. It was just large enough for the muzzle and eyes of a large dog to fit through. The officers were being watched.

Melanie and Travis began to educate the man about city ordinances concerning dogs and basic standards of animal care. He was in violation of many of them.

They explained to the man exactly what laws he had violated, and the consequences he would face if he didn't raise the standard of care for his dogs. They informed him that an officer would return to verify that he had made the changes necessary to comply.

Some situations require the animal be removed from the property immediately. But that wasn’t the case on this call. Ninety percent of the complaints animal control officers respond to require only education and condition checks. Many people don’t know they are doing the animal an injustice by the way they are keeping them. When the animal’s needs are outlined, they often make changes willingly that are in the best interests of the animal.

Primarily, animal control officers are community educators. They speak for the voiceless, advocating for them to people who love their animals but just don’t know any better.

Melanie and Travis had scheduled this man’s condition check for a few days later, but when time allowed for the visit the next day, the officers didn’t hesitate to arrive earlier than scheduled. Particularly because of the puppy and chained dog involved.

We walked around back to have a look.

The white pit bull – now unchained – was watching us through the hole in the door. The man enthusiastically told us the cab puppy was now in the house. Two major issues had been resolved.

The man opened the shed door so the officers could get a better look at the dogs and the conditions inside the shed. Out ran the white pit bull. Accompanying her was a blue male. Both were a bit on the thin side, but by no means emaciated.

The man told us he let them out at least once a day to run around. Judging by the way they stayed in the area, I believed him.

At one point, the female ran by, kicking up a kitchen knife lying in the weeds near a pile of wood. As the metal flashed in the sun, it caught Melanie’s eye and offered her the perfect opening for explaining the importance of removing all debris from the immediate area. She set parameters for the clean up, emphasizing the dangers that debris posed to the paws of a running dog.

Travis and I went into the shed. Although it was dark, the darkness was not a violation of city code. Travis noted that there were two bowls of clean water and two empty food bowls. There was only a small amount of fecal matter on the floor, an indication that the man did clean up after his dogs.

But the smell was a problem. The air was thick with ammonia. Travis patiently explained something needed to be done about the buildup of urine on the floor. Cleaning the floor using a mild bleach solution once a week should do it. Travis told the man, “You want to take as good a care of your dogs as you do your children.” To me, it appeared that his statement sparked a dawning enlightenment in the man. Travis had given him a visual he could understand.

The focus turned to the condition of the dogs themselves. “Feed them a little more. They are too thin,” Travis added, pointing out a few obvious medical conditions that needed addressing. The female had a bloody tail tip. The male had a minor skin condition, and possibly an ear infection.

After running through the list of requirements the man had to complete and sustain, including yard clean-up and a veterinary visit, another condition check was scheduled. Officers will return in two weeks to verify compliance.

What struck me about this experience was the man’s willingness to do right by his dogs. He had already made some of the necessary changes he had learned about the day before. I got the impression that he cared. He just hadn’t known any better.

Louisiana SPCA animal control officer Melanie Fenwick cuddles a pit bull puppy. I snapped this photo of her at a temporary shelter set up by LA SPCA in Baton Rouge. I fled the city with staff and the shelter animals this past September when Hurricane Gustav rolled in.

New Orleans animal control officers exhibit guts and heart in the field

Writer Shelly Patton of Louisiana SPCA hams it up at the shelter's Christmas pet photos event.

Animal control officers despise it when members of the general public label them “dog catchers”. Who can blame them? They are so much more than the dismissive title implies.

These people are essentially the police force for the animals, working the front lines of cruelty and neglect. Dogs neglected on chains. Animals beaten and tortured. Innocent, helpless creatures tossed aside and considered worthless beings. Animal control officers witness scenes daily that would feature in our nightmares for a lifetime. For little pay and no appreciation, in fact downright abuse at times, these people forge ahead without validation because they know that what they are doing is right and just.

The work being done by Louisiana SPCA’s animal control officers takes the challenges in the field to the next level. The city remains devastated by Katrina, with many residents working hard to eke out a living and a lifestyle in a crime-ridden, decimated wasteland.

Shelly Patton, webmaster for Louisiana SPCA, has been a frequent contributor to this blog, engaging us with her insightful comments and gentle thoughts. She went on her first ride-along yesterday. Although I’ve hit the road with animal control many times, it hasn’t hardened my heart to the reality. I sobbed when I read what she wrote, so I wanted to share it with you.

My day with animal control was very enlightening. In the morning, we went on sweeps; four trucks, six officers and me. A sweep is a group of officers hitting an area as a team, “sweeping” through and catching stray dogs. The day is mapped according to "roaming at large" complaints we have received. Whether or not the stray will still be in the area by the time we get there is questionable. However, strays tend to stay in their territory. Once we arrive at an address, the trucks traveling through the neighborhood split up to search.

When a stray is spotted, a call is made on the radio and all trucks converge on the area. In theory, the lead truck passes the dog, parking at the far end of the block. The other trucks park in intervals, with the last truck positioning itself at the beginning of the block. The dog is surrounded.

As quickly as possible, the end officers – we call them netters – grab heavy nets and prepare to snare the dog as it runs by. The middle officers – runners– chase the dog towards the netters. It is seldom is so simple. Dogs are smart.

I spotted the first dog captured. After the dog was poled and netted, I decided I wouldn’t make a good animal control officer.

She was a 20-pound black terrier mix. Her coat was clipped, she was overweight, and she wore a collar. Running through a field, she hid under a shed that was in someone’s back yard. With a privacy fence on two sides and officers on the others, she had nowhere to go.

By the time the officers captured her, the poor thing was so completely freaked out, I felt guilty for having seen her in the first place.

I understand banging on the shed sides, trying to scare her out. I understand poking her trying to get her to move. I understand eventually poling her, and pulling her stiff-legged fearful body over debris. I understand the streets are dangerous and it was in her best interest we take her off them. But understanding those things didn’t make it any easier for me to see this little black dog so afraid, a dog who, in my opinion, was loved. I hated that.

No, I can’t get past the emotions. I wouldn’t make a good animal control officer.

Once we captured the dog, I was very impressed by the tenderness and compassion the officers had for her. It was from the time I saw her to having her on the truck that I couldn’t deal with.

Yes, I am doing exactly what I need to be doing for the animals. I can make a difference in my detached position of building repairs and web work. I really don’t like seeing the animals upset. I wanted to scream at them to leave her alone.

I hope her owner comes in soon to claim her.

Working the rural low track with animal control

Animal control officers face many of the same dangers and responsibilities as other first responders, yet they aren’t afforded the same pay, respect, training or access to support services provided by governments to police, fire and ambulance attendants.

Yesterday I rode along with 28-year-old James Spain, an animal control officer for Whatcom Humane Society in northern Washington State.

He was patrolling a remote, two-mile area oddly called Paradise. It’s known for soaring crime rates, meth labs and Russian mobsters. Cellular and radio access is nearly non-existent.

As we cruised rural roads through lush, pristine forest, beams of sunshine reflected off garbage, abandoned half-finished houses and automobile chop shops.

A one-year career has brought to James a catalog of traumatic images more troubling than anything viewed by most people in a lifetime. He has rescued scores of animals in need in the line of duty, but the work takes its toll. Burning out after less than a year isn’t uncommon.

“You name it and I’ve seen it out there,” he says. “Every time you go to rescue an animal, and the animal doesn’t make it, you feel some guilt.”
Still, he isn’t deterred from his mission to save animals, and he intends to stay in the field.

“Until all the animals out there grow vocal cords and opposable thumbs and learn to speak English, they need someone to speak for them,” says James, only half joking.