More on pedigree dogs

A few months back BBC came out with a show blasting the pedigree dog circuit in the U.K. called Pedigree Dogs Exposed. If you still haven't seen it, watch it now cuz it's an important film whether you agree with its message or not.

So, anyway, last night ABC does its own mini version of busting the pedigree dog circuit in the U.S. with a news segment called Best in Show?. It's not bad but not as in depth or shocking as the BBC program.

I don't like to implicitly trust everything I see on TV so I did some digging around and found this on Youtube. It's an interesting little rebuttal to "Pedigree Dogs Exposed" by a guy named David Cavill who is a breeder and judge. According to him, though he acknowledges that there are faults with the kennel club pedigree dog circuit, he claims the numbers of screwed up purebred dogs has been grossly exaggerated in the BBC program.



So who to believe? Are dog shows inherently evil or has all this been blown out of proportion? I don't know and I'm not exactly sure how anyone in the public is supposed to know either since the data to back up claims made by either side are hard if not impossible to come by.

My main concerns with regards to breeding have got nothing to do with show standard pedigree looks anyway. The looks of a dog are of minor importance. If someone is trying to breed two dogs, whether mutt or purebred, because they've got, say, big ears, but who can't breathe properly because their faces are too flat or their skin wrinkles get in the way or their noses are on the back of their heads or whatever, then I'd call that immoral breeding. I want to know that the dogs are bred to be healthy, behaviorally well-adjusted and end up in decent homes - and I think that's much more challenging and significantly more important than breeding a dog for big ears.

Gas chamber refugees

Unnamed GSD pup

Luna

Carly

Betty

The two light coloured dogs are from Quebec and the two black dogs are from Ohio (I'm told that black dogs sometimes have a hard time getting adopted in the States which is why a lot of the dogs TAS rescues from Ohio are black). Both Ohio and Quebec are states/provinces in North America which still have pounds using gas chambers to kill abandoned dogs.

This is unacceptable. You'd think the people responsible for overseeing the killing of perfectly good dogs would have enough compassion to at least make sure their death sentences are carried out in the most humane way possible as opposed to the easiest way possible because, you see, it's a lot easier to pile a whole bunch of dogs into a gas chamber and flip a switch and have them asphyxiate on carbon monoxide than it is to have to do individual injections.

Carbon monoxide poisoning can cause extreme physical anguish in the form of headaches, nausea, convulsions. I mean, hell, the dogs are asphyxiating for fuck's sake. Maybe the lucky ones "fall asleep" first and then die while the unlucky ones, the stronger ones, experience what must amount to someone sticking plastic bags over their heads and tying the bags tight around their throats.

Supporters of using gas chambers to kill dogs say that all the disparaging talk against carbon monoxide poisoning is just misinformation. They claim it's painless and quick.

They keep the dogs in the gas chamber for 40 minutes. That doesn't sound like a quick death to me. And sometimes, dogs make it out alive only to be put through the procedure again the following kill session.

Supporters of using gas chambers claim that the dogs drift off and don't experience any discomfort. That's obviously bullshit and you know why I know that's bullshit?

Because gas isn't used to kill people.

In assisted suicides, who would ever condone the use of gas as the preferred method of death? Or in those states that still have the death penalty, when does anyone ever get sent to the gas chamber? These things don't happen because death by gas carries with it a high probability of being tortuous.

No kidding.

Once again, it's asphyxiation for fuck's sake. I don't know of any air breathing creature that asphyxiates to death gracefully.

Anyway, a lot has already been written about this and here's some of it.

This is an old one posted up by some anonymous person on craigslist. Hell, I wouldn't want to sign my name to it either.

Yes, I Gas Dogs and Cats for a Living. I'm an Animal Control officer in a very small town in central North Carolina. I'm in my mid thirties, and have been working for the town in different positions since high school.

There is not much work here, and working for the county provides good pay and benefits for a person like me without a higher education. I'm the person you all write about how horrible I am.

I'm the one that gasses the dogs and cats and makes them suffer. I'm the one that pulls their dead corpses out smelling of Carbon Monoxide and throws them into green plastic bags. But I'm also the one that hates my job and hates what I have to do.

First off, all you people out there that judge me, don't. God is judging me, and I know I'm going to Hell. Yes, I'm going to hell. I wont lie, it's despicable, cold, cruel and I feel like a serial killer. I'm not all to blame, if the law would mandate spay and neuter, lots of these dogs and cats wouldn't be here for me to gas. I'm the devil, I know it, but I want you people to see that there is another side to me the devil Gas Chamber man.
The shelter usually gasses on Friday morning.

Friday's are the day that most people look forward to, this is the day that I hate, and wish that time will stand still on Thursday night. Thursday night, late, after nobody's around, my friend and I go through a fast food line, and buy 50 dollars worth of cheeseburgers and fries, and chicken. I'm not allowed to feed the dogs on Thursday, for I'm told that they will make a mess in the gas chamber, and why waste the food.

So, Thursday night, with the lights still closed, I go into the saddest room that anyone can every imagine, and let all the doomed dogs out out their cages.

I have never been bit, and in all my years doing this, the dogs have never fought over the food. My buddy and I, open each wrapper of cheeseburger and chicken sandwich, and feed them to the skinny, starving dogs.

They swallow the food so fast, that I don't believe they even taste it. There tails are wagging, and some don't even go for the food, they roll on their backs wanting a scratch on their bellys. They start running, jumping and kissing me and my buddy. They go back to their food, and come back to us. All their eyes are on us with such trust and hope, and their tails wag so fast, that I have come out with black and blues on my thighs.. They devour the food, then it's time for them to devour some love and peace. My buddy and I sit down on the dirty, pee stained concrete floor, and we let the dogs jump on us. They lick us, they put their butts in the air to play, and they play with each other. Some lick each other, but most are glued on me and my buddy.

I look into the eyes of each dog. I give each dog a name.

They will not die without a name.

I give each dog 5 minutes of unconditional love and touch.

I talk to them, and tell them that I'm so sorry that tomorrow they will die a gruesome, long, torturous death at the hands of me in the gas chamber.

Some tilt their heads to try to understand.

I tell them, that they will be in a better place, and I beg them not to hate me.

I tell them that I know I'm going to hell, but they will all be playing with all the dogs and cats in heaven.

After about 30 minutes, I take each dog individually, into their feces filled concrete jail cell, and pet them and scratch them under their chins. Some give me their paw, and I just want to die. I just want to die. I close the jail cell on each dog, and ask them to forgive me. As my buddy and I are walking out, we watch as every dog is smiling at us and them don't even move their heads. They will sleep, with a full belly, and a false sense of security.

As we walk out of the doomed dog room, my buddy and I go to the cat room.

We take our box, and put the very friendly kittens and pregnant cats in our box.
The shelter doesn't keep tabs on the cats, like they do the dogs.

As I hand pick which cats are going to make it out, I feel like I'm playing God, deciding whose going to live and die.

We take the cats into my truck, and put them on blankets in the back.

Usually, as soon as we start to drive away, there are purring cats sitting on our necks or rubbing against us.

My buddy and I take our one way two hour trip to a county that is very wealthy and they use injection to kill animals.

We go to exclusive neighborhoods, and let one or two cats out at a time.

They don't want to run, they want to stay with us. We shoo them away, which makes me feel sad.

I tell them that these rich people will adopt them, and if worse comes to worse and they do get put down, they will be put down with a painless needle being cradled by a loving veterinarian. After the last cat is free, we drive back to our town.

It's about 5 in the morning now, about two hours until I have to gas my best friends.

I go home, take a shower, take my 4 anti-anxiety pills and drive to work.. I don't eat, I can't eat. It's now time, to put these animals in the gas chamber. I put my ear plugs in, and when I go to the collect the dogs, the dogs are so excited to see me, that they jump up to kiss me and think they are going to play.

I put them in the rolling cage and take them to the gas chamber. They know. They just know. They can smell the death.. They can smell the fear. They start whimpering, the second I put them in the box. The boss tells me to squeeze in as many as I can to save on gas. He watches. He knows I hate him, he knows I hate my job. I do as I'm told. He watches until all the dogs, and cats (thrown in together) are fighting and screaming. The sounds is very muffled to me because of my ear plugs. He walks out, I turn the gas on, and walk out.

I walk out as fast as I can. I walk into the bathroom, and I take a pin and draw blood from my hand. Why? The pain and blood takes my brain off of what I just did.
In 40 minutes, I have to go back and unload the dead animals. I pray that none survived, which happens when I overstuff the chamber. I pull them out with thick gloves, and the smell of carbon monoxide makes me sick. So does the vomit and blood, and all the bowel movements. I pull them out, put them in plastic bags.

They are in heaven now, I tell myself. I then start cleaning up the mess, the mess, that YOU PEOPLE are creating by not spay or neutering your animals. The mess that YOU PEOPLE are creating by not demanding that a vet come in and do this humanely. You ARE THE TAXPAYERS, DEMAND that this practice STOP!

So, don't call me the monster, the devil, the gasser, call the politicians, the shelter directors, and the county people the devil. Heck, call the governor, tell him to make it stop.

As usual, I will take sleeping pills tonight to drown out the screams I heard in the past, before I discovered the ear plugs. I will jump and twitch in my sleep, and I believe I'm starting to hallucinate.

This is my life. Don't judge me. Believe me, I judge myself enough.

I don't agree with everything that was written in the previous craigslist posting, especially the part about blaming the public for the infernal workings of a shelter, because sometimes the buck does indeed stop with the shelter management. However, the post does give a realistic emotional impression of what it's like to have a job that involves killing cats and dogs - at least that's what the shelter staff I know tell me.

This next one is a recent e-mail from Nicole Joncas who runs Teja's Animal Refuge. Nicole is currently suing the Quebec government for not upholding its own animal cruelty laws.

We know that puppy mills is a whole big issue. The breeding dogs live a hell from birth to death. We know that puppy mills sell their pups to pet stores.

What becomes of the puppies or kittens that don't sell and they get too big for their cages. They are brought out the back door where they meet their death by ax, mallet, bucket, or whatever instrument of death is handy.


We know that consumers buy the pups, and living in the buy and trash society that we do, what becomes of the pup who didn't turn out to be the perfect porcelaine dog that they wanted.
 
These dogs are either brought to the vet's to be euthanized. Others are brought to the SPCA, the Humane Society or to the dog pound.


It's a know fact, that pure bred intact pound dogs are sold to puppy mills. Others are sold to laboratories, and the rest are sent into the gas chamber to gasp to death.
 
From the puppy mill, to the pet store, to the dog pound, money is the common denominator, and pain and suffering is a given.


The dog pound where I'm getting dogs out, has a major problem of location. A Montreal rescue has gotten 20 dogs out. Most of them have kennel cough, and other health issues. It is north east of Montreal. Many rescues from the Toronto area have offered to take these dogs.

Getting them there is a major problem.
 
Ideally we need a holding place to put the pound dogs closer to the 20 or the 401 to give the Toronto rescues an easier way to get them.


This dog pound has a contract with a breeder who brings his dogs that are no longer useful to him to be gassed. Two nights ago we took an 8 month old Great Dane pup that had been brought to be gassed because he was too fearful. What did they do to him in his short life of 8 months to have to put him to death. Luckily a rescue in Montreal took him, and they're working with him.


I'm asking everyone to please work together to help us find a solution to facilitate moving these pitiful creatures.
 
I am also looking into who has the mandate to oversee dog pounds. I'm afraid that it's most likely Anima Quebec?
 
Some of you have received pictures of their incarceration. Not a pretty sight. Please help us find a solution.
 
I'm hoping that the new committee that the Ministry of Agriculture has formed will take into account the tragic situation of pound dogs.
 
If there's a solution, please let me know.

Please cross post.

Yours in rescue, Nicole Joncas

And finally, from Nathan Winograd's blog, this post, Did Wilkes County Dogs Get Gassed?

With the uproar over the Wilkes County massacre focusing on the systematic and needless killing of the 145 dogs and puppies, and the Humane Society of the United State’s shameless defense of it, there hasn’t been a lot of commentary on the cruel way the dogs probably died. Did the Wilkes County dogs get gassed? Except for the really young puppies, according to testimony at a County Commission meeting, the answer is probably, yes.

The Wilkes County NC shelter which was the sight of the massacre is back in the news—defending the carbon monoxide gas chamber to kill animals, even as employees there have admitted that when they use carbon monoxide, it isn’t “a pretty sight, with animals scratching and trying to get out.”

Despite testimony from a veterinarian that animals put in gas chambers “endure more trauma and pain than necessary to end their lives,” the Director of the Wilkes County shelter not only defended the use of gas, but he defended shooting animals, and claimed (erroneously) that it takes upwards of five minutes after lethal injection for animals to stop breathing.
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A “relatively painless” death can only occur in an environment where sensitivity, compassion, and skill, combine with efforts to minimize distress and anxiety. By contrast, gas systems take time to kill—during which animals experience distress and anxiety, and can struggle to survive. They can result in animals surviving the gassing, only to suffer even more. They are designed for the ease of shelter workers, not care and compassion for the animals.

You can read the rest of it here.

I feel I have to apologize for this post. I hate writing about euthanasia. I hope I didn't wreck your sleep tonight.

Update on Luna here.

How to answer a question of great stupidity

I know, not a very popular opinion that humans are more important that pets... but THEY ARE. We live in an insular, privileged society where we have the luxury of obessing over pets and buying them designer collars. The reality is that there are many places around the world where children are living much less humainely, starving to death, dying in war. But we shudder, donate a couple of bucks and go play fetch with Rover. Of course, now the party's over and reality is hitting us all now that money is tight. I'm sorry, but $1,200 for shots for your dog is excessive no matter what income bracket you fall into. You can feed a family in Africa for like a year with that money.

Submitted by jmysk, from the comments section of a recent Toronto Star article called Shelters fear flood of pets as times get tough

Remember when your politically correct, kindhearted teachers told you there are no stupid questions? Well, they were wrong. There are stupid questions. Lots of them. Worse yet, it's not the questions that are stupid. It's the person asking. I'm not talking about someone asking a sincere question in hopes of obtaining a sincere answer. No, those questions are always good. Those questions are valuable. Those questions help to shed light onto things which may need illuminating.

I'm talking about the questions posed by the self-righteous, by the hypocritical stone throwers, by those who hope to disparage anyone who is even the least bit concerned about the well being of living creatures other than ourselves. I'm talking about the number one stupid question that is so commonly asked of anyone who expresses an interest in helping animals.

I'm talking about this question:

How can you possibly justify helping animals when there are so many needy people in the world?

Yep, that's the one. I'm sure you've come across it somewhere (if not, please tell me where you live 'cause I'm moving there), maybe in the comments section of a newspaper article dealing with animal welfare, maybe at work over lunch, maybe over casual conversation in the checkout line at the grocery store.

That's Grand Daddy Stupid but it's got many spawn. Here are some of them:

How can you spend (so much) money on a pet when there are starving kids out there?

How can you justify keeping all those animals when there are homeless people on the street?

How can you possibly care so much about dogs when they're just dumb animals?

The majority of the time, anyone who throws up these questions does it in a context where the discussion involves the relative worth of "animals" vs "people". Asking any of these questions implies that the person asking considers animals to have little or no intrinsic value, or possibly, at best, a value based on its worth as a commodity with respect to being a food item or an article of clothing. The questions imply that deep down the person asking really couldn't give a shit if the planet was completely depopulated of every other living creature as long as humans managed to get something out of it.

Immediately, you know the following about the person asking any of these questions:

1. The person is self-righteous, calling you immoral based on a fallacy.

2. The person is a hypocrite for being no better, most likely worse, with regards to compassion.

3. The person is morally lazy and thus prone to accepting without question, bigotry and intolerance of all sorts.

4. The person is most likely trying to assuage their own guilt for being stingy at helping other living creatures.

Holy crap where am I getting this from? Well, let's deconstruct the question and see where it leads us.

When someone questions your involvement with helping animals over helping, say hungry kids in Africa, he's essentially criticizing you for how you spend your free time and money. In essence, he is saying, that anything you do outside of helping those hungry kids in Africa is immoral because helping those kids or helping the homeless or helping the poor are the top priorities everyone should have. Okay, let's say that moral assumption is true. Fine, then that morality judgment would have to apply to everyone including the person asking.

And this is where the self righteous, hypocritical, morally retarded nature of this question becomes as apparent as a pile of shit on a white living room carpet.

Ask him this:

Does he have a TV? How can he waste any time watching TV when there are so many needy people in the world?

Does he go out to restaurants? How can he splurge on going out to eat when there are so many hungry children in the world?

Does he own any CDs, any jewelery, a car, a house? How can he waste so much money when there are homeless people on the streets?

You see what I'm getting at, right? He's basically judging you for wasting your free time and money on something he feels is worthless while allowing himself the moral luxury of wasting time doing whatever the fuck he pleases. He's basically saying that it's morally superior for him to, say, go out and get pisspants drunk on Friday night than it is for you to volunteer with a dog rescue. He's saying that it's morally superior for him to spend a few thousand dollars on his junk-in-five-years home entertainment system than it is for you donate some cash to the local animal shelter. He's telling you it's okay for him to spend tens of thousands of dollars tarting up his house but it's morally repugnant for you to spend a few hundred dollars on vet bills.

He tries to twist around the argument by comparing someone who volunteers with animal care against someone who works with hungry kids in Africa but that's not the real comparison. The real comparison is between the animal care volunteer and the vast vast majority of guys who spend their free time playing Grand Theft Auto or the women who obsess over the latest episode of The Hills or the guys who are getting ripped at the gym or the women who spend hours on their make-up. I'm not saying those things are bad. I'm saying that's reality. And in all likelihood, it's the reality of the person asking.

So, not only is his internal moral logic faulty, thus making him prone to all sorts of illogical prejudices, he also goes a step further by trying to make you feel bad about yourself for having a better moral compass. What reason would he have for doing something like that? Why take that extra step of going out of his way to berate the compassionate for taking action? Why not just shut up and live happily in his own self indulgent world? Why? Because he needs to assuage his own guilt. Even though his conscious moral compass is wrong, deep down, he still knows he's a selfish prick and in order to feel better about himself, he needs to try to bring everyone else down to his level or at least diminish the worth of everyone else's charity.

So the question you should be asking him is what right does he have to tell people what they should do with their free time and money especially when those people are spending it on compassion and not selfish consumerism?

What right does he have to inflict his moronic, medieval, self serving moral code upon others?

What right does he have to be such an asshole?

He doesn't have that right. And now you can tell him why and then tell him to shut the fuck up and stop wasting your time.

Oh, and you can also ask him this:

What good is a person if he does no good? What use is a person if he only helps himself?

Continued here sort of.

Update on Watson

From Watson's new owners:


Thank you [James] for being so kind and assisting us with the adoption of "WALKER" (Watson).
He is one awesome boy. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!
We couldn't have asked for a better match, he has fit into our family so well and adores being around our daughters.
He has learned to sit, stay, shake a paw and lay down so quickly.
His leash manners are improving quite quickly as well.
In just 4 weeks he has changed from being a quiet supressed fellow to a happy, loving, excitable, funny boy.
WALKER has brought great joy to our family and we look forward to spending our lives together.

Pickup and delivery

That's a long drive. Eva and her mother left Montreal SPCA at 8:15 in the morning with 15 dogs in the back of the van. That's 15 dogs that had to be crated and packed and secured inside the van so I'm guessing they started at least 2 hours earlier. They're transporting the latest shipment of shelter dogs from Quebec to Ontario where the dogs will hopefully find new and better homes. Toronto Animal Services South is the transfer point this afternoon where various rescues will come by and bring back with them the dogs they've arranged to foster.

Eva and her mother arrive at Toronto Animal Services at 2:00 p.m. and the unloading begins. We start with the two biggest dogs, a beautiful but very underweight female brindle Great Dane. She looks a little dazed coming out of the van but maybe she just woke up (it usually takes my Dane, Stella, three to four hours to wake up and then she's tired again from all that effort). She's going to make someone a very proud owner.

Next is a German Shepherd cross who is quite happy to be out and stretching his legs. Both these dogs are taken by Pawsitive Praise dog rescue located in Chippawa near Niagara Falls.

I help out with the uncrating of the rest of the dogs and they all look to be in average to good shape except for two. One is a Shitzu with a back leg that won't bend. At first I think its knee is locked or something and then realize that this particular leg is actually shorter than the rest. Maybe it's a birth defect, maybe something worse, I don't know. The little guy falls over a lot when it gets excited, bumping and playing with the other dogs.

The other is a poodle who looks like a stick. It had been found in a cage with dry urine saturated hair which had to be all carefully shaved off revealing the skin and bones underneath. Nevertheless, it's a happy dog and its tail constantly whips back and forth. He's one of the guys I'll be transporting.

It looks like there's a mix of puppy mill dogs and "regular" pound dogs here but I can't be sure. It was supposed to be all mill dogs but something got a bit messed up and substitutions were made. Not important, though, as long as all the dogs eventually find homes.

Cathy from the Owen Sound Animal Shelter shows up next and we sort out which of the 5 dogs she'll be taking. At first it looks like there may be a poodle gone missing but it's found buried deep in the crates and Cathy's got her full house.

In this shipment, TAS only has one dog, a little fatty of a Wirehaired Fox Terrier and judging from its temperament and cuteness profile, won't last long on the adoption floor.

That leaves just four dogs unclaimed as I load up my three into the car to take to Leaside Animal Clinic. Dr. Ruth Weintrop is taking in these three little ones to put up for adoption at her clinic. She's getting two Shitzus along with the skinny Poodle. The Shitzus both seem relatively healthy.

As I pull out of the TAS parking lot, the last rescue driver shows up so the remaining four dogs should be well on their way. Once those dogs are off, Eva and her mother will be making the long drive back to Montreal.

My much easier drive up to Leaside Animal Clinic is quick but not quick enough for the cow patch coloured Shitzu in the passenger seat beside me. Every few minutes, he looks over and quietly barks for attention. I didn't know dogs could do quiet barks but there you go. A finger scratching his nose satisfies him and he settles down for a few minutes. The two in the back don't make a peep.

At the clinic, I'm greeted by Joanne who helped arrange this first time adoption try-out between Dr. Weintrop and CAACQ in Quebec. She helps me bring the three refugees inside and they're promptly examined by the vet. A couple of the dogs need some teeth cleaning and the Poodle, aside from needing to gain a substantial amount of weight, has a bad case of ear mites. All fixable. Dr. Weintrop's only concern is the kennel cough symptoms a couple of the dogs may be displaying. If they've got kennel cough, they'll have to be quarantined until they're better which means quite a bit more work for the staff and adoptions may be delayed. Still, it's all doable.

I'll be keeping track of how these guys come along over the next few weeks. When the adoption information for any of the dogs comes up, I'll provide the links and we can keep track of them together.

Update on Great Dane here.

How not to buy a puppy

Did you catch the CBC Marketplace episode on pet store pups? If not, it's here.

I'm especially glad they took on P.J.'s Pets in Toronto. Bunch of wanks.

Also, an Oscar should go to the executive director of PIJAC Canada (PIJAC being a pet industry lobby group), who gave the most realistic performance ever of a man pretending to be a man pretending to be shocked when learning about the puppy mill origins of pet store dogs. Judging from the stony, sweaty response when confronted with the falsehoods pushed by those pet stores he represents, I'd bet that as soon as the interview was over, he went back into his kitchen and gulped down a mug or two of whiskey and ate a couple of puppies for lunch.

More on Dinglehopper, the Pomeranian in the Marketplace episode, here.

Presto Change-O

Before:


After:



Yeah, I know. Not that he doesn't still look like something highly squishable, I think he looked cuter before but the mattes were horrendous and so it's comfort and health over beauty for this little one. Anyway, hair grows back and if his hopefully soon to be found new owners prefer the something which will sweep their floors, they'll have their wish by the time summer rolls around.