Sheltering the Helpless and Forgotten

The Issue at Hand

As the holidays draw ever closer, families of people come home from long days of work and school to shelter themselves indoors from the winter chill. As they take to their cozy domestic sanctuaries, so too do they bask in the warming ambiance of festive holiday music whilst lighting their menorahs or stringing their Christmas trees with a collage of dazzling decorations or preparing freshly cooked ham or turkey dinners. And, not only do the human residents rejoice in the wake of spirit-lifting season, but so too do their pets as well. Happy, contented cats and dogs take to the warmth and safety and security of their respective houses and the caring owners that provide for them. They look upon the ensemble of dazzling holiday decorations with captivation as the smell ham and turkey wafts over their noses or the strange melodies of “White Christmas” fills their ears as they bask in the serene warmth of a radiant fireplace hearth. In this scenario, pets raised in a stable, living background enjoy the peacefulness and serenity of the holiday season along with their human owners. For many household pets, this seemingly happy-go-lucky dream is in fact a reality.

 

Others however, are not so fortunate. Many pets who could otherwise enjoy the simple pleasures and luxuries of a warm home in full holiday turnover as well as a human owner to enjoy it with them lack both of these amenities. Here on Long Island, New York, let alone in countless other areas across the United States and the world, there are dogs and cats who, because of an unfortunate twist of time and circumstance, now have to spend their cold holidays out on the street or gradually become rehabilitated in a pet shelter or adoption center. These poor, forsaken souls, many of whom were forced to leave the loving care of their previous owners while others have a history of abandonment, negligence and abuse at the hands of less-than-responsible owners, sit idly by within their chain-link cages in their respective animal shelters as they take the long and tedious road to normalcy. For example, Zaz, a hefty grey tabby cat, sits in solitude within his cage at the Town of Smithtown Pet Shelter with a demeanor of dejection and sorrow, clearly distraught over the fact that he had to be parted from his beloved owner. Zaz’s previous owner, an elderly woman, was forced to part with the cat under threat of eviction by her landlord.

 Now, the 3-year-old feline has been sitting in a cage at the shelter alone for the better part of a year, motionless and with drooped eyes as he has become reduced to a husk of his former livelihood. In another, more serious case, Amber, a golden-colored pit-bull with a face scarred by a history of dogfighting and abuse sits in one of the kennels at the Brookhaven Pet Shelter. The scarred dog, despite being subjugated to abuse in the past, is gradually on the mend due to the constant care of the shelter volunteers and is even expecting a litter of puppies soon enough. At the Little Shelter Animal Adoption center in Huntington, Ingrid, a brown and white pit-bull mix suffers from not only a slew of health issues such as arthritis and constrained valves in her heart, but a painful past in which she was forced to be a “bait-dog” in an illegal hunting dog ring. Essentially this meant that the hunters would release Ingrid out into the woods and then send the other dogs after her as if she were a pretend deer or prey animal. The two streaks across the right side of her snout pay tribute to a painful past for an otherwise gentle dog. Regardless, Ingrid heals both physically and emotionally within the comfort of caring volunteers, responding kindly to humans of all ages who come to visit her. Although many of these animals are damaged and wounded from the very beginning, they find the security and rehabilitation they need at places like Little Shelter or Brookhaven or Smithtown in order to become stable, wholesome, and most of all, happy pets as they so deserve.

 

Shelter 1- Smithtown: Wed, Nov. 23, 10:30 a.m.

I made my first trip to my first local, no-kill shelter on the list with a certain preconception in mind. I constantly spent the drive looking back on the ASPCA commercials that always seemed to leave me on the verge of tears. The image of the sad, scarred cats and dogs reaching their paws out to me from their cages was the preconceived notion that I maintained going to their first shelter. This line of thought alone left me a bit perturbed and I hadn’t even yet arrived.

Upon leaving my car in the narrow strip of parking lot, I stepped up into the small, white, one-story building that was the Town of Smithtown Animal Shelter. Near the entrance, patrolling back and forth, were two quirky peacocks, a sight which I found rather interesting. Upon entering, the two peacocks took a quick look in my direction before disregarding me with indifference, as if they’d grown accustomed to interaction with humans. Beyond the parking lot, past the two peacocks were several pens of chickens and other poultry that the shelter volunteers had seen fit to salvage from circumstances likely not much better than the dogs and cats residing in the shelter. I stepped inside the building and came upon the single office where I was greeted by the few volunteers, one of whom was the one that I’d previously corresponded with over the phone and who had given me the green light for a tour of the shelter.

The young volunteer, Monica Stevens was a relatively new volunteer at the shelter who had been doing volunteer work there since July of last year; however, she had been doing other volunteer work with animal control and other shelters for four years prior. An avid pet owner and enthusiast herself, Stevens has three dogs and four cats at home. One could only guess that that number had likely been larger at one point. For an avid “animal person” and pet shelter volunteer, there was undoubtedly a great deal of temptation to want to take home every animal that you come across in your shelter.

Monica led me room by room, hall by hall through the shelter, beginning with the more extensive cat areas. While there were only about twenty-eight canines currently at Smithtown, there were substantially more cats there; about eighty adult cats and thirty kittens. In the first large room where most of the adult cats dwelled, the all-too-familiar smell of cat food lingered in the air, which wasn’t unexpected. The atmosphere was certainly no bed of roses but it was still more tolerable than most would be expecting for a pet shelter in terms of smell. Upon entering the adult cat room, I was surprised to find that the majority the cats were not confined to small cages, reaching their paws out to me like pitiable beggars in the tear-jerking ASPCA commercials, but rather had the simple luxury of lounging on various cat beds and having the freedom to roam around the large room. When I entered however, it was as if someone had painted a big bullseye right on me because at least half of the adult cats within that hall flocked to me as if I were celebrity surrounded by scores of paparazzi. They surrounded my feet and legs, meowing and mewing in unison like a chorus even as I struggled to reach down and pat the heads of all the ones that surrounded me (and failing in that regard due to the sheer amount). I couldn’t even begin to determine what the cats wanted from me so desperately due to the complexity two dozen cats climbing all over you at one time; maybe they wanted me to take them home. Maybe they simply wanted food. Or maybe they were just plain curious as to what I doing in their domain. Furthermore, I couldn’t help but wonder what the backstory was for each of the curious felines underfoot. Monica explained that many of their current pets, including some of the cats swarming me, were left at the shelter as a result of personal issues, be it medical, financial, emotional etc.

“A lot of the adults are brought here by moving couples, people who can afford to keep them anymore because of the economy, can’t keep their pets because of allergies…” Monica explained.

Although many of these adult cats hadn’t been rescued from severe domestic abuse, the problem lied for them often lied with the fact that their owners had to give them up after they’d already grown up. Monica explained that people felt more inclined to adopt kittens and puppies (which were often in short supply), therefore, many of the adults brought to the shelter go ignored by adopting families for months at a time

The large, white-walled adult cat room gave way into a longer, thinner hallway stretching back to the other end of the shelter. This part of the shelter, which Monica and the other volunteers aptly dubbed the “kitten hall,” houses the group of roughly thirty kittens that had been rescued from various circumstances. The narrow, windowed hall stretching all the way to the back of the building contained a complex of scratching posts, little boxes, cages, beds, and cat climbing trees, not to mention the thirty frisky felines themselves littering the floor and energetically jumping and scrambling across the place like a swarm of hyperactive locusts.

As I myself entered this “kitten hall,” about four of the kittens of various colors appeared to be play-fighting and dog piling (pun definitely not intended) over each other. As soon as they took notice of me however, the play-fighting ceased and all beady feline eyes turned to the newcoming human. Immediately my legs were covered in furry forms as each of the kittens had swarmed me and had their claws hooked to my jeans, some of them even climbing me like a jungle gym ever s I tried to sift my way through them gently. One white and brown kitten in particular had managed climb up my leg and grab a firm hold of sweatshirt, dangling from it precariously even as it reached its head up and began to lick my face with curiosity and an enthusiasm that no doubt said, “Take me out of here, mister! Look at me, I’m hanging from your sweatshirt, aren’t I cute?”

Amid the excited bunch, there, in the corner of the hall, sat the lonesome grey cat Zaz. Apparently, even after a year of attempted adjustment to the comfortable quarters of the shelter, Zaz’s personality hadn’t improved much. There he sat, brooding and staring at the wall within his cage even as the other kittens in the room scrambled around me and tried to entertain themselves. His special case in comparison to the other adult cats had led to his isolation within the kitten hall to keep the other cats from bothering him. I warily approached the cage where Monica introduced me to him and explained how his previous owner had been forced to leave him behind.

“He’s usually pretty sick and distraught. There were a few weeks where we had to hand feed him for a while,” Monica explained.

I could hardly fathom how, because of such a strong emotional attachment to his previous owner, the cat would actually starve himself and have to be hand-fed food for the better part of a week. If there were any dispute whatsoever that animals don’t possess emotions like humans do, I think those doubts would evaporate instantly if someone took a look at poor Zaz and the way he fell away into such a detached existence when parted from his owner. Attempting to at least remotely get through to the forlorn soul, I gingerly spoke to him, reaching my hand through the bars to pet him. When he felt the contact with my hand, a shudder ran across his grey back and his ears briefly twitched but his glazed, sorrowful eyes remained fixed on the wall and he seemed still detached from the world otherwise. Despite his lack of response, it at least gave me some small comfort knowing that someone actually took notice of his situation and could sympathize with him, even if doing so didn’t replace the empty void that had been left on the feline’s life.

 

Smithtown visit 2: Thurs, Nov. 24, 10:15 a.m.

 Upon returning to the Smithtown, I passed by the same two peacocks acting like two door guards. I was led again through the kitten hall where the familiar kittens flocked my legs and encroached on me, to which I did my best to accommodate them all with pats to the head (and failed). Here, when I sat down and asked Monica Stevens questions about the shelter itself, asking about the various rates of adoptions and the shelter’s spay and neuter programs and so forth, I had four black kittens (presumably from the same litter) climbing across my legs, arms and shoulder while I struggled to write on my notebook. I distinctly recall a tail swishing across my face in the midst of conversation. Conducting an interview sure is difficult when every limb of your body is a ladder being used by four rambunctious felines.

I was then led through the dog kennels, particular the outdoor section where the majority of the canines had been shifted to in order to give them some fresh air. As expected, all of the twenty-eight canine residents of the shelter go insane with joy, curiosity, angst or many other emotions as soon as a human passes by the kennels. Like many of the cats, Monica explained that the majority of these dogs were left there previously by relatively considerate owners who simply couldn’t keep their pet for one practical reason or another. For that reason, many of them seemed to react with joyous excitement at the prospect of another potential owner taking them home with them. Unfortunately, this was not to be the case when it came to me, as much as I would have liked to have adopted each of them.

When I had sat and down and talked with Monica, she had told me that many of the twenty-eight dogs were adults that had been there at the shelter for quite some time. In her view, many people passed the dogs by when it came to adoptions because they either wanted a puppy or a specialized dog catered to their own needs, despite the fact that these dogs had admirable qualities and good-natured personalities.

“I feel really bad,” Monica told me. “People are looking for a pure bred when they come here. But these are all great dogs.”

 

Shelter 2: Brookhaven, Nov 30, 10:45 a.m.

The Town of Brookhaven Animal Shelter is a shelter that seems to hide in plain sight, in terms of its location. It is situated on a rather busy highway and unfortunately sits beside a compost dump. Regardless, the shelter has a professional feel to it from the moment a visitor arrives. A large, official sign and a clean grass path gives way to the brick building, with some of the outdoor kennels visible at the far end of the building when entering.

 While Smithtown had a smaller, more carefree yet fully-functional feel to it, Brookhaven felt more like animal counterpart of Stony Brook Hospital. It opens up into a white-walled waiting room with cushioned chairs, magazines, a flat-screen TV and the rest. The rest of the building, including the hallways leading to both the cat and dog wings had a similar feel to what one would picture in a hospital; tile floors, overhead lights and more walls with neutral colors. I personally was not deterred by this; in fact, I only found it fitting that since many animals were here for rehabilitation and a slow healing process to becoming a stable animal again that the place would have the atmosphere of a professional hospital.

After a few minutes of waiting, I was given an escort around the building by one of the senior shelter volunteers. She led me down the halls toward the dog kennels, which encompassed the majority of the shelter. We passed briefly through the cat area, where I could see through a glass window a kitten being fed from a bottle by another volunteer. I couldn’t help but find the sight encouraging, just knowing that I wasn’t alone in the list of people who wanted to help these animals somehow.

Although the exact numbers of animals at Brookhaven are constantly in flux due to new residents coming in and other gradually being adopted out, the population here in comparison to some smaller shelters is rather substantial. While there were roughly 28 dog residents at Smithtown, there were about 180 (give or take) being sheltered at Brookhaven, with the number of cats being smaller. The sheer amount of how many there were became clear to me as soon as I was escorted into the first wing of the dog kennels where my nose was filled with the smell of dog food and…droppings, while my ears were immediately filled by the boisterous thunder of dozens of dogs barking; their sounds of excitement or frustration only amplified by the openness of the large room in echoes.

As we passed by many rattling cages, I stepped closer to the volunteer leading me along so I could hear her better over the constant noise around me. She went on to explain to me for the first time that a vast majority of the 180 canines in this shelter were pit bulls or pit bull mixes rescued from unfortunate situations. The controversial Michael Vick dog fighting occurrence immediately popped into me head in that instant, sending a momentary flash of anger through me as mention of that despicable scenario always seemed to do. Judging by the demeanor and appearance of many of these dogs that I passed by, I could suspect that this had to be the case for some, even if she hadn’t told me their situation to begin with. Some of the dogs had scars marking their faces and snouts, either indicating prior abuse by their owner directly or from a scenario in which they were unwillingly pitted against their own kind in order to sate some man’s selfish greed and bloodlust.

I could barely stand looking at many of them simply because all I could think about was how, for some of these dogs, their innocence was stripped from them in an environment that should have otherwise been a safe haven. They say that home is where the heart is; however, they never do tell you that a home only has as much heart as the people living within that home. For many of these poor souls, their owners had no heart and the only home they had previously was one in which they knew only violence and a senseless upbringing in which they were forced to rip another canine to pieces. Still, it gave me solace knowing that they were removed from that situation and put into a place that may not be ideal for them, but is nonetheless a much better place from where they were before. They may not be whole again nor may some of them ever have a stable, peaceful home like they should have had in the beginning, but at least they are in a place where that history of violence and anger can slowly ebb away.

Without much prior knowledge about dog breeds, I could still tell by the general appearance that the majority of the barking dogs that I passed by in their rattling cages and kennels were undoubtedly pit bulls as the volunteer had told me. In fact, the population of pit bulls was so large in Brookhaven that the shelter had recently enacted a recent social program to try to lessen the overpopulation of them there. According to a news brief on their website, the “Brookhaven Bully Alliance” is a program made by chief shelter director Dori Scofield and the shelter to try to find homes for many of these pit bulls on a massive scale. The volunteers support the program, saying that although many of these pit bulls were castaways often rescued from poor conditions, most of them are friendly, obedient pets that many people turn away from due to the stigma often associated with pitbulls in the media and the misconceptions that all pitbulls are prone to violence. Truthfully, an animal is only as violent as the human owner crafts it to be in its upbringing and when it is paired with a kind human owner, the dog can be a loving companion, regardless of what breed it is.

Shelter 3: “Little Shelter,” Huntington, Dec. 10, 1:00 p.m.

Little Shelter in Huntington is an older shelter (started in 1929) situated near a very busy highway, Jericho Turnpike but is still surrounded by an encroachment of woods. Instead of a large, single building, the shelter is more of a complex of several smaller buildings to house the animals while have over 5 acres of wooded land available to it for many of the dogs to roam and get exercise as well as an additional pet cemetery. Each of the buildings contain auxiliary outdoor kennels attached to them to allow dogs and cats to get some fresh air even while being kenneled.

Upon arriving at Little Shelter, I was rather pleased to see a shelter that was mainly situated outdoors for a change. I’m sure the animals residing there could appreciate it as well; the privilege of being able to have a home with a natural feel to it is likely an upgrade from confined to a white-walled indoor kennel for many hours.

I stepped up into the quaint, cottage-looking building that was the main office of the shelter. Right when you enter, there is a large bulletin board of dogs and cats available for adoption including their name and picture. Several of these names included Rocket, Dollar, Bently, Emilio, Shiloh, Marshmallow and more. Once inside, the office was in an enthusiastic uproar by the volunteers because one of their beloved female dogs was being adopted after a long residence at the shelter. Geegee, a golden pit bull that had been at the shelter for 15 months, was finally being adopted out. The joyful dog was rolling onto its back practically grinning as its tongue hung out, as if it knew it were finally going to a new home. Around her, several volunteers were smothering her (enthusiastically) and saying their goodbyes as she swooned from being the center of attention.

After petting Geegee a few times myself, I met with one of the volunteers named Josh and he gave me a tour of the dog areas of the shelter. He led me through the first kennels where the majority of the dogs were being housed, many of which were available for adoption. As per usual experience with the other dog kennels, the dogs were in an ecstatic frenzy as I was led past them, one of them even reaching his paw past the bars out to me as I passed.

“Don’t stick your fingers in bars,” Josh joked, matter-of-factly.

Like Brookhaven, Josh explained Little Shelter had a large population of pit bulls and pit mixes, many of which had been retrieved and rescued from other overpopulated shelters. One of them was a pit mix named Rocket; the black dog situated at the very end of the main kennel. Rocket had had a negligent upbringing in terms of his relation to his previous, irresponsible owners and the volunteers now had difficulty training him. After all, it was he who reached out his paw at me as I passed the kennels.

“He wasn’t trained or raised right in the beginning so now it’s hard for us. He’s almost like a five-year-old in an eighteen-year-old’s body,” Josh explained.

I was then led to the other three kennels for the dogs. One of them was where all the small and toy breeds were being sheltered, another was the dog equivalent of a “supermax wing,” where some of the worst case scenarios were kept and rehabilitated because they weren’t able to interact or be near other animals. In her own pen was where I encountered the resilient pitbull with a big heart and a happy smile: Ingrid. Ingrid, who was the dog with health problems and a painful past as an unwilling “bait dog,” nonetheless enjoyed the company of people and even cats, although she couldn’t be paired with other dogs due to her poor experiences amongst her own kind previously. I reached my hand out into her pen and she sniffed it once before licking it with fervor as I stroked her head just above where two scars resided on the side of her snout. That dog was certainly a tough one.  

The last building was a small house-like building that the staff had originally dubbed, the “real-life” building. It was so named because its original purpose was to act as a training scenario in which a pet that is soon to be adopted out is placed into a replica of a residential-style living room and acclimated to a home setting with a potential family to see how the pet would react to it. Unfortunately, due to overpopulation, the building has since been converted into more shelter space for the small dogs. I still find that to be a unique project that would have been, in my view, essential to many of the pets at the shelter. For many of the pets that came from bad conditions previously, it would have been a good experience to gradually expose them to what a stable home life would be like in preparation for the real experience of actually living under peaceful circumstances with a generous human family.

 

Little Shelter visit 2: Dec. 11, 12:45 p.m.

On the return trip to Little Shelter, I now visited the cat areas of the shelter specifically. A volunteer named Anna took me through the area of the shelter that had been called “the cattery,” at the back end of the shelter. Here, the 210 cats were separated into different wings, very similar to the larger structure of the Brookhaven shelter. Many were strays that had been rescued from the street and they had their own separate isolation wing where they are gradually exposed to human and cat company until that time that they are adoptable, or at the status of “reformed feral.” Another wing was a narrow hallway where adult mother cats would give birth before and the mother and their kittens would be subsequently habilitated there. The other two halls were larger rooms where the majority of the cats resided.

As I was led into these rooms, I found myself astounded by just how many cats there were. Along the walls were shelves of them lounging around and sleeping while there were more bed and litter boxes lining the floor. The entrances were double-doored, meaning that the cats could have the freedom to roam around the building at their own leisure without being confined to cages at all times while there being little fear of them getting out of the building. I continued to find myself mesmerized by just the number of the felines that littered the shelter, although I’m certain that, like the dogs, they had been put into a much better scenario compared to where they came from originally. Most of the cats didn’t seem to take notice my presence as I passed the shelves, instead they continued to sleep lazily without a care for anything else in the world. Heck, these cats probably had it made in the shade compared to where they came from. A bed to sleep on and be lazy all day long? Yes please!

           

Helping Our Friends

These were perhaps instances that I took the most comfort in; although a pet shelter may be crowded and not as hands-on companionship as a loving home with a loving family would be, but it is still the best possible circumstance they can get until that time that they attain a real home. Although most of them come from difficult situations that we as decadent humans can scarcely comprehend and although they deserve far better, these shelters are still a peaceful reminder that they are in better conditions now, slowly, gradually healing their past scars to become wonderful pets that we should feel privileged to care for.

It’s something else to reconcile to as we sit home for holiday meals in our warm homes this holiday season. Shelters like Smithtown and Brookhaven and Little Shelter are filled with deserving pets, many of them having been discarded and thrown aside all their life. Try not to discard them this holiday season. Although we cannot hope to adopt and care for every sheltered animal in need, we can, at the very least, understand their circumstances and at least give them attention that they had been so deprived until now. Any support to the shelters and volunteers that tirelessly care for these creatures, even if it be small, is also beneficial. For they are the ones that work toward remembering and caring for these helpless and forgotten creatures where very few others have. Keep the sheltered animals and pets in mind this holiday season and support them however you can. For they too, deserve to have that dream of having a warm home and loving human owners, a reality.