... and Hamilton/Burlington SPCA

Continued from here.

I like the ride over to Hamilton on my motorcycle. Going over the QEW Burlington Skyway is always exhilerating and especially so on a blue sky day. The cartoon perfect white clouds hanging over the lake are somewhat mesmerizing and I have to force myself to keep my eyes on the road.

I'm in a pretty good mood by the time I get to the Hamilton/Burlington SPCA. It's location certainly doesn't disappoint. It sits off a country road on a well manicured plot of land. There are open areas and tree shaded areas. There are gardens and rock benches and even a pet memorial site built on a patch of grass surrounded by a ring of shrubs for privacy.


There's also a decent sized dog park on one side of the lot, complete with agility course and at first, not knowing any better, I actually think the two dozen or so dogs in the park are shelter dogs until I realize they are pets out with their owners.

Inside the shelter, it's bustling. It's been a long time since I've been inside a real shelter and I've forgotten just how noisy and crowded they can be. Toronto Animal Services South is technically not a shelter, of course, and so to compare isn't exactly fair but if I were a dog awaiting adoption, I'd have to say I'd rather be waiting around at TAS South. I know the mandate at HBSPCA is to save as many lives as possible and the way to do that efficiently is to pack in many animals so as to be able to show them to the public and move them through. Still, I'm not used to the constant waves of barking and the cages of dogs lining the hallways and all the dogs in display windows which reminds me of a pet store.

The energy in the place feels good, though. It's sad to see so many dogs caged up but they're on display for a good reason and there are many potential adopters walking around checking them out. One young guy is very impressed by a Rottie that was just brought in. He's going to adopt her but has to wait until Tuesday after she's gotten all her shots and paperwork done. Another older couple, who arrived on a Harley, spend a good part of the afternoon with a little Schnauzer/Terrier type dog. I wonder if they're going to somehow take the dog home on the bike with them but at the end of the day they leave the guy behind. I'm hoping they'll return for him later with their car.


The staff at HBSPCA are typically young. They look a bit harried but they are helpful and friendly and very keen about the animals. No one looks like they are just doing time. As I'm standing there, absorbing and adjusting to the environment, someone approaches me and asks if he can help me with something. I explain that I'm looking for three dogs: Olga, Dakota and Keenan. He takes me to see Olga and Dakota right off and then after a bit of searching, finds Keenan as well. Dakota and Olga are in glass display cases and Keenan is in a cage.


Keenan at 0:20. Olga at 0:45 and 2:10. Dakota at 1:51

I immediately feel bad for them. I know they have a much better chance of being adopted here than they would at TAS North with that facility's limited hours due to the strike but still, seeing them here in their cramped quarters surrounded by a constant cacophony is sad. TAS South was like the Four Seasons comparatively.

I take Keenan out first. The environment is too stress inducing and he's completely forgotten how to sit in his crate while the door is being opened. On the way out, he's beserkers as we walk through the crowded main entrance way, pulling towards other dogs, cats, people. And his hackles are up so I have to be careful not to let him get too close to other excited dogs.


Once outside, it takes him a few minutes to calm down and then he's back to his old self again, alternating between sniffing around and returning for attention. We walk the perimeter of the grounds, going around to the other side of the property where Hamilton Animal Control is located but I see no activity from that part of the building. I find a shady spot and sit with Keenan just to let him decompress for a bit in the outdoor calm. I spend half an hour with him and then bring him back in.

I take Dakota out next.


Dakota's a bit more relaxed and we end up in an area where there's a volunteer standing around with a raggedly terrier/poodle looking dog. She seems like a suburban grandmother so I'm a little surprised when she tells me that her favorite dogs are Pit Bulls. Her last had just died a while ago at 15 and she hasn't found a replacement yet so she's getting her dog fix volunteering at the HBSPCA. I ask her how many dogs they have in there and she says she doesn't know but there are a lot. They've got a large capacity for dogs. She tells me that they sometimes get shipments of up to a hundred Louisianna dogs, the continuing fallout from the dogs abandoned during Katrina. And now I understand why the crowded, cage lined hallways. Better that than death by gas chamber in some high kill pound in the south.

On the way out with Olga, she's hackling the whole time and as we pass by a woman with her Boxer, she snaps at him and he at her but leashes keep them back from one another. It takes Olga a few minutes to destress outside and then she's doing her favourite thing rolling in the grass. I take her around the property and then find a shady spot in the trees. By the time I get her back inside, it's past five and the shelter is closing.




I give Olga to one of the staff to put back in her display case and then go visit Keenan one last time in his cage. He wags his tail when he sees me, happy and expectant, but I say goodbye to him, pat him through the cage and then leave.

It's for the best and the people there will look out for them but still, I'll be checking their adoption site daily and I'll be a lot happier once Keenan, Olga and Dakota are homed.