The right kind.

Recently the Shelter Medicine program at the University of Florida conducted a survey of rescue/adoption staff and volunteers and volunteers with Alachua County Animal Services. They presented some of the results at a public meeting last week. The discussion was sometimes frustrating, driven as it was by some nitty-gritty concerns of rescue staff, such as the three-day stray hold (a matter of state law) and repeated complaints that ACAS should not do adoptions, only rabies tags, cruelty investigations, and stray returns. This point was made again and again, despite the obvious fact that private groups do not have the space or resources to handle all the homeless dogs and cats in our area.


That doesn’t even touch the philosophical question of whether everything that has to with the common good should be the sole responsibility of private groups. A thousand points of light, anyone?

So most of the discussion portion of the meeting focused on procedural issues rather than positive steps that we might take. This is a shame, since so many innovative and effective initiatives all over the country are increasing adoptions, reducing owner surrenders, and reducing euthanasia. We can learn from and probably implement many of these even without much money. That’s a matter for another conversation, which probably needs to be initiated by volunteers.

That said, the most interesting part of the meeting was the initial presentation of information, and, for me, the fact that local rescue groups see a lot of potential for increasing dog adoptions. The two biggest obstacles they saw were the need for more foster/adoptive homes and the need for “the right kind of dogs."

Our radar is already on the need to recruit and train foster volunteers. Foster homes not only buy time but also increase adoptability, by making dogs more sociable and providing fuller information about them. Foster volunteers also reach new potential adopters, including those who would not dream of stepping into a shelter for their next pet.


The other two issues seem to go together: there will be more adoptive homes if we have the "right kind" of dogs. The “right kind” implied at the meeting was the kind potential adopters seem to want – small, fluffy ones and puppies, rather than the medium to large, short-haired adult dogs that abound at our shelter (and almost every shelter around the country, although apparently San Francisco is overflowing with Chihuahuas).

No one wants to bring more small, fluffy puppies into the shelter system. But what if we could redefine the “right kind” of dog? Instead of a dog that looks a certain way, what if potential adopters looked for a dog whose temperament and energy level matched theirs? The ASPCA has launched a program called “Meet Your Match” that tries to do just this. It’s still a young program but seems to have been very successful in shelters that have implemented it.


Imagine if we could persuade people that among the medium to large, short-haired hound and pit mixes at ACAS are dogs for every individual and every family: running partners and couch potatoes, apartment dogs and suburban dogs, one-man dogs and family dogs, child-friendly dogs and cat-friendly dogs, dogs who fetch and dogs who nap, dogs who can learn agility and dogs who can keep you company during the late show – and every other kind of dog anyone might want.

Maybe we need some slogans and a marketing campaign.

Shelter dogs can do anything.
We have your new best friend.
Whatever you want, we have it.

Obviously I am not a marketing genius.
But someone out there is.
Maybe it's these guys?

Feral cats and dangerous dogs

Recently I ran across this image, which in one sense is just another entry in the “meme” trend, which began by imagining “how my parents see” various jobs. The feral cat meme is not as funny as some, but it points to some weighty issues in animal rescue.

Whoever put together the meme obviously knows the debates about feral cats. Most conservation groups do indeed consider the cats to be dangerous threats, just as homeowners often view them as pests and advocates see them as innocent victims of human neglect, no less deserving of care than other cats.


What most caught my eye was (no surprise) the image of how “your local animal shelter” sees feral cats: a pit bull. This image sparked some of the more interesting comments under the Facebook posting I saw.* Some commenters objected because they saw the dog’s image as an example of the prejudice that considers pit bulls bad dogs. Others, however, believed that the meme’s creators did not mean to condemn pit bulls but rather to show parallels in the stereotypes about feral cats and pit bull type dogs. I think that is a more accurate reading, or at least one that opens up the way to a more interesting conversation.

The conversation starts with comparisons between feral cats and pit bulls. What do these critters have in common?

One similarity, as one of the commenters put it, is that “they used the Pit Bull specifically because it is a misunderstood animal. This graphic is about a misunderstood animal after all.” Feral cats and pit bulls are misunderstood, at least in the eyes of their advocates, because they are seen as representatives of largely negative stereotypes, e.g. all feral cats are afraid of people, or all pit bulls are aggressive. Stereotypes cause harm because they erase individual differences and are often used to justify harmful treatment.

Another Facebook commenter pointed out a second similarity: “a lot of places don't really treat [pit bulls] like dogs and kind of assume they're damaged goods before they even know the full story. It's unfair, but I can see where the comparison of feral kitties to pit[s] comes in when you consider that a lot of people assume that they're ‘broken beyond repair’ before giving them a chance.” The notion that these dogs and cats are “broken beyond repair” is why many shelters and adoption groups automatically exclude them from the category of “adoptable animals.”


A third similarity is that both “feral cat” and “pit bull” are social constructs. In other words, the meaning attached to those terms is based not on objective criteria (such as DNA evidence or rigorous temperament evaluations) but on the perceptions, assumptions, and biases of the person or group assigning definitions. These definitions are not mere semantics. They are literally matters of life and death, because both feral cats and pit bulls are so often excluded from opportunities for rehabilitation and adoption that are given to animals defined in other ways.

Puppy mill survivors, for example, are often psychologically and physically damaged, both from inbreeding and, even more, from the horrific conditions that many are forced to live in. Many require a great deal of medical and behavioral treatment before they can live like “normal” pets. However, puppy mill survivors are seen, rightly, as victims deserving of sympathy and care; they are not routinely excluded from the “adoptables” section because of their label or their history – even though some of them have lasting damage that makes them less than ideal pets for most families.

Feral cats and pit bulls -- even those who have suffered greatly at the hands of humans - rarely receive these gifts. Things have gotten much better for pit bulls in the past few years, however, especially since the successful rehabilitation of almost all the dogs seized from Michael Vick's fighting operation. Now even dogs from fight busts sometimes -- though still not often enough -- get the chance to be evaluated and cared for as individuals.

(Georgia, rescued from a fight bust in Florida)

Because they are stereotypes and social constructs, the labels “feral” and “pit bull” are often applied without knowledge of a particular animal’s genetics, history, or temperament. Some cats picked up at feral colonies are former pets who have been living rough for a while and could easily, with a little time and patience, live happily as pets again. If they are identified as feral, however, at many shelters they will automatically be euthanized (or at best, neutered and returned to the dangers of a free-roaming life). Similarly, dogs identified as pit bulls are often defined as “vicious” or “dangerous,” at least by custom and often by law as well. Even when there is not a law prohibiting the adoption of pit bulls, a large number of public and private shelters and rescue groups voluntarily refuse to adopt them.

This means that most pit bulls who enter the shelter system are euthanized and that they do not count as deaths of “adoptable animals.” For example, in early versions of the agreement between the San Francisco SPCA and the city’s public animal control department to pursue “no kill” status, pit bulls and feral cats were the two groups excluded, en masse, from the category of “adoptable,” along with animals judged individually to be too sick, too aggressive, or too damaged to be rehabilitated. Under those terms, the city could kill 100% of the dogs called pit bulls and the cats called feral – a very large proportion of their overall intake – and still call itself “no kill.” This policy (which is no longer in force in San Francisco, at least for pit bulls) is repeated at many “animal welfare” groups. Some groups do adopt out pit bulls but have special requirements, such as a fence, the absence of other pets in the home, or previous experience with “bully” breeds. These policies are often well-intentioned but perpetuate the notion that pit bulls are radically different from other dogs and need special handling. Obviously, this deters many potential adopters. The result of all these obstacles to pit bull adoptions is that fewer of these dogs are living in our communities as neutered, well cared-for companions – thus perpetuating the vicious cycle that identifies them as anything but the pets of “nice” people.


Finally, the animals labelled "pit bull" and "feral cat" have in common their relationship to animal rescue more broadly. These animals are at the edge of rescue, literally and figuratively. Their advocates are often people who are willing to go where mainstream animal welfare groups fear to tread. Not only are the animals themselves thought to be risky, but both feral cats and pit bulls are often associated with or thought to inhabit social worlds far from “nice” middle-class communities. Edges can be dangerous, but they are also the key to the expansion that is necessary for genuine social change. Feral cats and dangerous dogs push us out of our physical and metaphorical comfort zones, demanding that we reconsider our own assumptions, our relationships to both animals and other people, and our capacity for effective action where it is most needed.


_________________________________________________________________
*http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=299204683467106&set=a.167394789981430.45853.110911218963121&type=1; posted by Vox Felina on Feb. 17, 2012.

Dedicated to the one I love.

Our first dog was a present for my 5th birthday. I don’t remember, but I must have been asking for one (although my dad is as soppy about dogs as I am, so I may just have been an excuse). After all the family dogs of my youth, I adopted my first “grown up” dog a few weeks after my 21st birthday – the biggest, blackest dog at the Berkeley Humane Society that day. He was a huge lab mix, with only one note on his kennel: “Loves cats.” He did, and he loved everyone else, and was perfect in every way. Even non-dog people adored him; my cat-loving friend Jane called him the “teen angel,” and when I was in graduate school, my friends used to call to ask if they could borrow Fred to go for a walk or a run, or just to hang out.

A few years after I got Fred, I adopted another big black dog from the Berkeley Humane Society. Chula was definitely not a teen angel. She was half-feral, or maybe three-quarters feral, no less terrified at home than she had been at the shelter. For fifteen long years, she was as high-maintenance as Fred was easy. Her extreme fear of new things meant that when we put up a new window curtain, added a piece of furniture, or even placed a box of tissue paper on a table, she refused to enter the room. If a garage door went up suddenly during a walk, she would have to be dragged down that block the next time (and the time after that).


When I got married and moved to Gainesville, Chula was still insane and Fred was showing signs of age. A few weeks after we arrived, we found a woman giving away a four-month old puppy that she called a “Weimaraner mix.” He had eaten all the shrubs in the tiny patio where she kept him, all alone, all day long. As we were thinking about it, she said, “That’s okay. There’s a guy wants to hunt him.” So we took him home. Inti was a Florida brown dog, whose only resemblance to a Weimaraner was his almond-shaped amber eyes, which more likely came from the same pit bull ancestor who passed on his enormous mouth, into which he could fit four tennis balls at once, maybe five if one of the other dogs showed interest. Inti was never very gracious with strangers, but he was the love of my life and the best possible family dog. He even tolerated our kids’ idea of fun, playing hide-and-seek with his precious tennis balls.


After Fred died, we started fostering dogs for Gainesville Pet Rescue. Inti and Chula hosted a series of visiting dogs until the inevitable foster failure, another big black dog, Balo, who was smart, nervous, and bonded like crazy glue with grumpy Inti.


I was hesitant to bring in another dog after Chula died, because Inti and Balo were both elderly and I didn’t want to upset their golden years. Still, we missed having a dog who didn’t sleep 23 hours a day. One afternoon I took my youngest son, who was three at the time, to the Humane Society to visit the cats (yeah, right). As we were leaving, a volunteer was taking out a stocky little brindle dog. (She seemed little to me – at 48 pounds, she weighed 30 pounds less than most of the dogs I had lived with.) Rafael ran up to her, squatted down, and pulled a toy from her mouth. (So much for all his training in proper dog etiquette.) She wagged her tail and kissed him. We brought her home a few days later.


Tozi was almost perfect right from the start. She was polite and gentle not only with kids but with my old dogs, letting Inti hobble down the hall after tennis balls and cuddling up next to them on cold nights. However, she failed to meet the gold standard set by Fred because she has a prey drive that puts your average terrier to shame. She has gone over, under, and through every type of fence imaginable and killed every animal smaller than her that she can reach, from dragonflies to an adult raccoon. Most recently she blasted a hole in our living room in order to reach some rodent in the wall. Tozi is good at reminding us that prey drive has nothing to do with behavior around humans or, indeed, around other dogs.

Inti and Balo died exactly two weeks apart, both of osteosarcoma. Tozi seemed as inconsolable as I was. Having only one dog in the house was way too lonely, so we made the rounds of local rescues. Tozi let us know when she approved of a candidate, and we took home the one she liked most – a handsome, goofy American Bulldog mix who was named Thunder because of his fear of thunderstorms.


A couple of months later, we added Libby, another Florida brown dog with an incredible temperament despite the fact that she had grown upon the end of a tether and had to have her harness surgically removed because her skin had grown over it.


Our little pack fit together well, with Tozi as benevolent dictator, Libby as enforcer, and Thunder as sometimes clueless underling who always managed to be first in line for cookies. Three seemed to be the right number, until I went to the shelter for a volunteer event and met another pair of amber eyes. Boomer stared at me all afternoon and climbed into my lap when it was finally his turn to get out of his kennel. When I left, I couldn’t help myself: I asked the adoption staff to let me know if that gray dog ran out of time. I lost sleep worrying that the wrong person might adopt him. It was almost a relief when the shelter called to say that he was on "the list" for the next morning. I did not hesitate, except for a passing thought about what this might mean for my marriage. On the way to the shelter I called a friend who directs a rescue and asked if he could go into her program as a foster dog. I am eternally grateful that she said yes, even though my husband believes that I never had any intention of letting that dog go.


He might be right. Boomer was a mama’s boy from the start. He follows me everywhere he can and never misses a chance to fall asleep with his giant head in my lap. He embodies for me what Vicki Hearne says about pit bulls: they “do grab on and hold; but what pit bulls most often grab and refuse to let go of is your heart, not your arm.” Happy Valentine’s Day. Please don’t let go.

Straying.

Most of the dogs taken in by rescues have been at a public shelter and been placed on the euthanasia list, either because they've run out of time or because they have some treatable health problem, ranging from heartworm disease to demodex mange to sniffles, that shifts them from "adoptables" to "the list." In these cases, we know something about the dog, at least from his or her time in the shelter, and we know that there are no other options. The right thing to do is clear, even though there are not always sufficient resources to do it.

But what about strays? There have been a lot of those lately. They are just as needy as dogs in the shelter (and many dogs in the shelter were first strays), but the right thing to do is not always so clear-cut. And often there are many ways to do the right thing by the dog in need.

The right thing surely happened on Saturday for a skinny, injured black pit bull mix who was found at Morningside Nature Center in east Gainesville. A Morningside employee called Animal Services and a patient, compassionate officer came to get the dog. She carried him to the car and reassured the worried finder that the dog would receive medical treatment.


This dog was doubly lucky, because not only did he get medical treatment but the finder offered to foster him once he was ready to leave the shelter. In this case, going to the shelter was the best option, since the dog needed immediate medical care. The finder did all the right things, not only calling Animal Services but also calling a dog-savvy friend who immediately connected her with rescue folks who will help her rehome the dog if he is not claimed or adopted at the shelter.

Even if a dog is not injured, taking him or her to the shelter is not always a bad option. Shelter staff will scan the dog for a microchip, which might find the dog's people, and worried owners usually know (or are told) to look at the shelter for their missing pet.

Sometimes finders do not want to take a dog to the shelter, however, for various reasons. They may be willing to foster the dog themselves and not want to expose the dog to the stress of shelter life, which affects some dogs more than others. If you find a stray and decide not to take him or her to the shelter, here are some steps to follow. First and most important, try to find the dog's owner! Even a dog who looks rough may have frantic people missing him or her. Even the best-loved dog will look skinny and sad after being lost for a while, so don't assume the dog has been deliberately abandoned or abused (though that does happen... more on that later). To find the owner, go to a vet or the shelter to have the dog scanned for a microchip, send a description to Animal Services, put "found dog" ads and flyers up, and use a service like Gainesville Pet Finders (www.facebook.com/gainesvillepetfinders).

If you don't locate the dog's owner, talk to rescue organizations about getting support while you look for a new home. If you are willing to foster the dog, and if the dog has a sweet and stable personality, most often a rescue group will help with advertising him or her on Petfinder and at adoption events. It will help if you can have the dog tested for heartworms, vaccinated, and spayed or neutered if needed. Do not expect a rescue group to find a foster home for your found dog, however. They are always full with dogs who have been taken directly from the euthanasia list at the shelter. If you offer to foster, however, you will usually find a lot of support.

Sometimes you know no one is looking for the dog. Last week, a man getting into a bus at the downtown station tried to bring his female pit bull mix with him. The driver told him the dog needed to be in a crate. The dog's owner got on the bus and left the dog behind. A kind-hearted person who witnessed the abandonment took the dog with her. This was not a stray, but a dumpee, but some of the same dilemmas arose: do I take the dog to the shelter? If not, what can I do? The dog's savior could not keep her long, because she lives in an apartment with cats and was already at her maximum number of pets.


Fortunately, she found another big-hearted person who agreed to foster the dog, now named Indigo. Indigo is having a great time at her foster home, revealing her sweet personality and ability to get along with other dogs.

Indigo's finder did not want to take her to the shelter because she knew there was no heartbroken owner in search of her, and she knew that a black pit bull mix, however sweet, may not have good odds at the shelter. She was smart about asking her network of dog-loving friends for help. Even though she could not keep Indigo, her commitment to finding a good solution probably saved the dog's life.

In some cases it is not just possible but certain that a dog will not leave a shelter alive. Last week we were asked for help with a pit bull type dog who was abandoned at a dog park in Miami. Because of the ban on pit bulls in Miami-Dade, he would have been euthanized at the shelter there.


Fortunately, his finders were dog people and knew not to surrender him. They were able to place him with a rescue in a different county, where he will be available for adoption.

These dogs all got lucky. Most strays probably do not. Even if you do take a found dog to a shelter, you can improve their odds by contacting rescue groups and asking them to consider "pulling" the dog if she or he ends up on the euthanasia list. If you can offer support, such as help with vet and spay/neuter costs, that will make it more feasible for them to add the dog to their program. While the dog is at the shelter, you can make up flyers and post ads to encourage prospective adopters to visit the shelter. The more detail you can give, the more likely a rescue group or potential adopter will take a second look at your found dog.

Much more good advice is available here -- http://www.badrap.org/node/28. And if you live in or near Gainesville, check www.facebook.com/plentyofpitbulls, where friendly dog-loving volunteers will do their best to help you do your best for the dogs who find you.

Adoptable!

A number of the dogs we have helped pull are still available for adoption. All these dogs were saved by the bell, all have great temperaments, and all are waiting for permanent homes. We have ...

boy dogs


and girl dogs


brown dogs


and black dogs


white dogs


and brindle dogs


red dogs


well-accessorized dogs




and dogs with amazing ears






and more ... all these dogs are available for adoption through several different rescues in the Gainesville area. All are spayed or neutered, current on vaccinations, healthy, and friendly. For more information on any of these dogs, please visit www.facebook.com/plentyofpitbulls

Closing the gap

I just read, separately, two items that together give a lot to think about.

The first item was in Bark (yes, I read “the dog culture magazine.” Anyone surprised?) A new survey conducted by the Humane Society of the U.S. (HSUS) found that 21% of all the dogs and cats in US households have been adopted from a shelter. Another 6% have been adopted from private rescue organizations. That means – and I was surprised at how surprised I was – that almost three-quarters of all pets come from pet stores, breeders, and other non-rescue sources.

The other item was another survey showing that “71 percent of pet owners feel that shelters should only be allowed to euthanize animals when they are too sick to be treated or too aggressive to be adopted. Only 25 percent said that euthanasia should be used as a means to control the animal population” (http://www.petside.com/no-kill-shelters).


Put these together: only about a quarter of people with pets have given a home to an animal from a shelter or rescue, but almost three quarters of them do not want shelters to kill homeless animals.

Houston, we have a problem.

The gap between expressed values and actual practice is not unique to animal welfare. These figures, and the gap between them, are remarkably close to those for environmental concern and practice. About 80% of survey respondents say they care about the environment and want to protect nature, but only about 20% actually do anything about it (e.g., recycle, use alternative transportation, alter their diets, donate, or volunteer for environmental reasons).



There is a huge gap between what we value and what we do. Part of the gap results from a lack of knowledge. People may care about dwindling rainforests without knowing that their fast food hamburger contributed to the problem.

While accurate, accessible information is necessary, it is not adequate. Sometimes people know what needs to be done and still cannot do it, for a variety of reasons. They may think that just one person cannot make a difference or that the required change is too hard.

People who love their pets are usually horrified to learn that millions of healthy, sociable dogs and cats are killed in the U.S. annually because they do not have homes. Hard as it is for those of us involved in animal advocacy to believe, a lot of people do not connect this monstrous statistic with their own lives. For example, I have an acquaintance who recently purchased two “teacup schnauzers” from an online dealer. She probably had never heard the term “puppy mill.” She loves her puppies and is already driving them two hours to a veterinary specialist who can deal with their dental problems. Ouch, on all accounts. The teachable moment may have passed in this case (though I do contemplate giving her a copy of the book Saving Gracie, about puppy mills). However, if nothing else, this is a reminder that good people with good intentions do not know everything that we know. In some cosmic balancing act, two healthy, friendly puppies died in a shelter because she bought guinea-pig sized dogs with chronic health problems. And she had no idea.


I have another colleague who told me, a few years ago: “I know you won’t approve.” (Whoa, I thought. This had better be good.) “I just bought a puppy from a breeder.” He was right. I didn’t approve. But we had never talked about it, so his sense of my disapproval came from more subtle sources. He knew that all my dogs were rescues and that I volunteered for rescue organizations. And most important, he felt there was a contradiction between rescuing animals and buying them from breeders. He was defensive because he had knowledge that he did not act on. (Sidenote: Although in general I do not approve of bringing more puppies into the world, I don’t believe that there is always a contradiction between breeding and rescue. I have learned about some breeders I respect a great deal, who rescue and foster and promote rescue and in general do a great deal of good for animals. But I don’t think my colleague went to that kind of breeder.)

His guilt and my disapproval are not getting us anywhere. We both love dogs. What can we do to close the gap between us? And more important, to close the gap between the dogs who need good homes and number of good homes looking for them? As my grandmother used to say, “you catch more flies with sugar than with vinegar.” Being judgmental does not change minds, hearts, or – most important – actions.

Here’s what I have learned from years of studying these issues in the context of environmental practice: We have to make the right thing easy and the wrong thing harder. It has to be easier to ride your bike to work and harder to park your SUV. (Sorry. It’s true.) And the right thing has to be not just easy but intrinsically rewarding, e.g., fun and meaningful. So it has to be not just more convenient but more enjoyable and rewarding to get a dog from a rescue or shelter than from a pet store.



Like all our battles, this one has to be fought on many fronts. There are a lot of great initiatives that work well to bring people into shelters and rescue organizations who would not otherwise have looked there for a pet. Some of the most effective strategies include off-site adoption events, foster volunteers who are also adoption advocates, and training and followup support for adopters. Studies show that positive images are more effective - happy pictures that let people imagine an animal as part of their family are more effective advertisements than sad "prison" pictures of miserable animals.

We know how big the gap is between what animals need and what they get from us. The answer is always the same: it takes a village. It takes creativity and dedication, evident in Beth's amazing pictures. It takes struggles on many different fronts and appreciation for the contributions every one of us makes.

Some of my best friends are pit bulls

One of the things I love most about pit bulls is that they surprise us in so many ways. Most of all, they surprise people who think that dogs who look like pit bulls are vicious and anti-social. They challenge the stereotypes simply by being individuals, by showing the same range of variations as all dogs. Turns out they’re just dogs – not monsters, not killing machines – just dogs. Maybe a little wigglier than average, but isn’t that a good thing?

The gap between the stereotype and the real dog is why people who adopt pit bulls often become such strong advocates for them. This is why there are so many amazing pit bull advocacy groups. Lots of folks love Golden Retrievers, but no one needs to go to bat for them. They’re not banned in many cities and killed in many shelters because of the way they look. Pit bulls are just as lovable, and they need us so much more.

While pit bull advocacy groups vary a great deal, they share a constant refrain: we have to counter, publicly and repeatedly, the prejudices that make people think that they know all about a dog because of the way he or she looks. They remind us, again and again, that “Dogs are individuals” and that “Stereotypes victimize.”

Obviously, stereotypes victimize not just dogs but also people, including people with pit bulls. One of the reasons these dogs are feared, hated, and attacked even more than other types of dogs labeled “dangerous” is because pit bulls, unlike German Shepherds, Dobermans, or Rottweilers, are strongly associated with working class and poor people. Thus the folks at PETA say that “nice people don’t go to the shelter to adopt pit bulls.” What they mean is that middle-class white people don’t go to the shelter to adopt pit bulls.



But it happens: some “nice people” go against expectations and adopt short haired, muscular dogs with big jaws. We fall head over heels in love with them. We are surprised and hurt and angry when people tell us that our dogs are scary or that we must be brave (i.e., stupid) to have one of those dogs in the house with our children. We fight back by telling the world that our dogs do not fulfill the stereotypes. We believe, in the words of another great BAD RAP slogan, that “my dog will change your mind.”

Loving pit bulls is not just about changing other people’s minds. They can help us enter a world in which people surprise us too. Some not so nice looking people love their dogs and want to do right by them. Their version of “right” may not be the same as ours, and we may feel very strongly that they are wrong. Sometimes, as Donna Reynolds of BAD RAP puts it, “We have to put blame and judgement aside and value the bond every pet owner deserves to have with his pet, even if he has to make decisions that more privileged dog owners might disagree with” (http://badrap-blog.blogspot.com/2011/11/grateful-for-everyone-who-steps-outside.html)

There are a lot of good lives for a dog, as for a person. Not even the people who look like us treat their dogs exactly as we would. We disagree about a lot of things – are crates a good idea, should dogs be allowed to sleep on the sofa or eat people food, should we go to dog parks, what training methods to use, do dogs even need training, and much more. The vast majority of the differences fall happily onto the continuum of “various things done by good people who love their dogs.”

This doesn’t mean anything goes. But when we believe change is necessary, are we helping make it possible?

Dogs Deserve Better is dedicated to bringing dogs off chains and into the heart of family life. DDB sometimes removes dogs from their current homes, with legal support if necessary. However, they always try first to educate the family about why chaining is bad for dogs and people. And they provide support – fence building, education about house training and crating – to make make positive changes possible. Surprisingly often, it works. Some former dog-chainers have even become DDB volunteers, helping teach others that there’s a better way.

BAD RAP offers vaccination and spay/neuter clinics in low-income neighborhoods. People line up hours early to get a place in these clinics.

That’s what social change looks like. It requires so much -- expanding the pool of people who adopt rather than buy; who adopt pit bulls, or black dogs, or big dogs, or old dogs; who train their dogs rather than abandon them when the going gets tough. It also requires us to help, rather than just judge, people want to do right by their dogs but may not know better or, even if they do, may not have the resources to make changes.

We are lucky to have had our minds and hearts altered by some amazing dogs. We are lucky to have great examples of ways to make social change. And we are lucky to have a great community of people trying to make life better for more animals.