TikiTalks
01-27-2008, 01:09 PM
I went to craigslist (as I so often do [stupid me]) and I saw this and I about wanted to CRY! But, i thought it was good enough to share :)
As a journalist, I decided to go to the dog pound, and interview
some of the "inmates". I wanted to know what it was like in there
from their perspective. What follows is not for the faint of heart.
I entered the building, and one of the workers accompanied me to the
holding area. This is where dogs are kept before they are allowed up
for adoption IF they are allowed up for adoption. If the dogs are
found to be aggressive in any way, euthanasia is employed.
Fortunately, if "fortunately" is the word to be used here this is a
Canadian establishment, and they use lethal injection, not a gas
chamber.
The pound worker led me past a big steel door that says "Employees
Only". "What is in there?" I asked. From the look he gave me, I knew
that this is where dogs go in, and never return.
We moved on to a row of kennels. The dogs were barking loudly, there
was the acrid smell of urine and feces, and a feeling of despair
seemed to permeate the room.
"Go ahead," the worker said. "They're all yours."
Pete
I looked into the first kennel, and saw only the back of a medium
sized dog who was curled up in the corner of his kennel, shivering.
He was mostly white, with some black spots. "Hello?" I said. "May I
come in?" He lifted his head, as though it weighed more than he
could bear. When he looked at me, I could see he was a Pitbull. His
eyes were gentle, but filled with grief.
"Enter," was all he said.
I stepped in, closing the gate behind me. He put his head back down,
facing away from me. I crouched down a few feet away.
"My name is Pete. Petey my Master called me," he said, still not
looking at me.
"Why are you here Pete?" I asked.
"I am here because Master cannot afford to move to another province.
I am here because someone with power said I am vicious, and a
killer. Someone who never met me. Master took me for a walk one day,
and some lady started to scream when she saw me. I got frightened,
and barked at her. The dog police came, and they took me away. I
have been with Master for 10 years. The last time I saw him, he just
held me and cried. He kept telling me he was sorry. I worry for him.
Whatever will he do without me?" Pete shivered even more.
A tear slid down my face. I am supposed to remain objective, but
this was wrong so wrong.
"Thank you Pete." I said. He said nothing as I got up and left his
kennel.
Popper
The kennel next to Pete's held a very young looking dog. Pure Border
Collie by my guess. He stood on his hind legs, looking at me through
the gate.
"Hello. My name's Popper. He tilted his head. "Are you here to take
me home?"
"No, I'm sorry," I replied. "But I would like to talk with you."
"Sure. What would you like to talk about?"
"Popper, how did you come to be in this place?" I asked.
Popper dropped down from the gate, with a perplexed look on his
face. He walked to the back of the kennel, then back to the front. I
noticed he had one blue eye, and one brown. He was quite beautiful.
His black and white coat was shiny and thick.
"I am not certain WHY I am here. I think maybe my family will come
back for me. They bought me when I was only 6 weeks old. I remember
they said how smart Border Collies are, and how it would be so easy
to train me. They were very excited at first. The little ones played
with me all the time. But the trouble with little Masters is, they
refuse to stay in a group. I constantly had to nip their heels to
keep them together." He looked confused. "Why won't they stay in a
group?" he sighed. "So I did what I thought I should do. I am not
quite sure why the little ones screamed when I did my job, but they
did, and the Masters got very angry at me. They also got angry when
I had to relieve myself, and did so in the house. I am not sure
where they expected me to go. All they said was that I was the
smartest breed in the world, and I should just KNOW better. Then
they left me in the yard for a month or so. I got bored a lot, and I
dug holes in the grass. The next thing I knew, the Masters brought
me here."
Popper jumped back up on the gate, his white paws protruding through
the links. He looked at me with his lovely eyes, and asked "Will you
please let them know I want to come home? Please tell them I promise
I will be good?"
"I will Popper," I said.
As a journalist, I decided to go to the dog pound, and interview
some of the "inmates". I wanted to know what it was like in there
from their perspective. What follows is not for the faint of heart.
I entered the building, and one of the workers accompanied me to the
holding area. This is where dogs are kept before they are allowed up
for adoption IF they are allowed up for adoption. If the dogs are
found to be aggressive in any way, euthanasia is employed.
Fortunately, if "fortunately" is the word to be used here this is a
Canadian establishment, and they use lethal injection, not a gas
chamber.
The pound worker led me past a big steel door that says "Employees
Only". "What is in there?" I asked. From the look he gave me, I knew
that this is where dogs go in, and never return.
We moved on to a row of kennels. The dogs were barking loudly, there
was the acrid smell of urine and feces, and a feeling of despair
seemed to permeate the room.
"Go ahead," the worker said. "They're all yours."
Pete
I looked into the first kennel, and saw only the back of a medium
sized dog who was curled up in the corner of his kennel, shivering.
He was mostly white, with some black spots. "Hello?" I said. "May I
come in?" He lifted his head, as though it weighed more than he
could bear. When he looked at me, I could see he was a Pitbull. His
eyes were gentle, but filled with grief.
"Enter," was all he said.
I stepped in, closing the gate behind me. He put his head back down,
facing away from me. I crouched down a few feet away.
"My name is Pete. Petey my Master called me," he said, still not
looking at me.
"Why are you here Pete?" I asked.
"I am here because Master cannot afford to move to another province.
I am here because someone with power said I am vicious, and a
killer. Someone who never met me. Master took me for a walk one day,
and some lady started to scream when she saw me. I got frightened,
and barked at her. The dog police came, and they took me away. I
have been with Master for 10 years. The last time I saw him, he just
held me and cried. He kept telling me he was sorry. I worry for him.
Whatever will he do without me?" Pete shivered even more.
A tear slid down my face. I am supposed to remain objective, but
this was wrong so wrong.
"Thank you Pete." I said. He said nothing as I got up and left his
kennel.
Popper
The kennel next to Pete's held a very young looking dog. Pure Border
Collie by my guess. He stood on his hind legs, looking at me through
the gate.
"Hello. My name's Popper. He tilted his head. "Are you here to take
me home?"
"No, I'm sorry," I replied. "But I would like to talk with you."
"Sure. What would you like to talk about?"
"Popper, how did you come to be in this place?" I asked.
Popper dropped down from the gate, with a perplexed look on his
face. He walked to the back of the kennel, then back to the front. I
noticed he had one blue eye, and one brown. He was quite beautiful.
His black and white coat was shiny and thick.
"I am not certain WHY I am here. I think maybe my family will come
back for me. They bought me when I was only 6 weeks old. I remember
they said how smart Border Collies are, and how it would be so easy
to train me. They were very excited at first. The little ones played
with me all the time. But the trouble with little Masters is, they
refuse to stay in a group. I constantly had to nip their heels to
keep them together." He looked confused. "Why won't they stay in a
group?" he sighed. "So I did what I thought I should do. I am not
quite sure why the little ones screamed when I did my job, but they
did, and the Masters got very angry at me. They also got angry when
I had to relieve myself, and did so in the house. I am not sure
where they expected me to go. All they said was that I was the
smartest breed in the world, and I should just KNOW better. Then
they left me in the yard for a month or so. I got bored a lot, and I
dug holes in the grass. The next thing I knew, the Masters brought
me here."
Popper jumped back up on the gate, his white paws protruding through
the links. He looked at me with his lovely eyes, and asked "Will you
please let them know I want to come home? Please tell them I promise
I will be good?"
"I will Popper," I said.