by Cathy Davis
When I was nine years old, my mother started to notice that I was drinking more water than usual. She took me to the doctor and he poked me with a few needles, drew a little blood, and then told my mom the bad news. I had diabetes. “But”, he added “we can control this with diet, exercise and medication” and sent me home with mom to begin a routine of daily shots, which I really didn’t mind, long walks, and special food.
I did pretty well and thought everything was fine, although I was still more thirsty than most, and that meant more bathroom trips than in the past, but other than that I felt great, I had a lot of energy, and I acted like every nine year old.
My mother didn’t seem to enjoy this new responsibility, nor did she care for my increased trips to the bathroom and one day I heard her making a call to a local orphanage asking if they would take me as she was tired of all the meds, tired of cleaning up after me. I just sat there, stunned.
Evidently the people at the facility didn’t want me either; they said that nine years old was too old for them to find anybody else who would want me so adoption was pretty much out of the question. They had a lot of other healthier children waiting for homes who didn’t have a mom to take care of them and just no room for me, and no time to devote to giving me the medication I needed to stay alive.
My mom hung up the phone and sank into her chair. “Now what do I do” she mumbled. I walked up to her and put my head in her lap, praying she would just do what she had done for the last nine years, take care of me, love me. My name is Sparky, I am a Golden Retriever.
Every single day we receive calls at the animal shelter from people who want to give up animals that have been a part of their families for years. The reasons vary but it usually boils down to behavior or medical issues. Sometimes it’s a change in lifestyle; sometimes the owner has to move and just can’t find a new home that will allow pets. We have heard it all, from “Fluffy’s nails scratch my floor” to “Mopsy jumped up on my daughter and scratched her” and every day our hearts just ache.
I’m not stupid, but I just can’t seem to get it through my head why animals have become so disposable in this society. We have people who will mortgage their homes to raise the money for hip surgery for their beloved German Shepherd and then on the other side of the coin we have people who will toss away the four legged member of the family for one misadventure in the garbage can without a second thought.
And I can’t seem to understand why people will call the animal shelter and yell at the staff if we don’t immediately offer to take their pets off their hands and solve their problems.
When you adopt a pet, it is a lifetime commitment – if it’s not, then you shouldn’t have one. When a problem arises, you deal with it, just as you would with your children. My Shannon will get into the trash if I leave the trash where she can get into it. So I put it where she can’t get into it. Yet we have had people want to surrender their pets because they get into the trash.
The shelter is full of animals who have no homes, there is no room for those who do have homes but just have a behavior problem their owner won’t deal with, or a medical problem their owner doesn’t want to treat, or an aggression problem their owner doesn’t want to get training for.
My heart breaks for every owner who suffers through issues at home with their pets, and there is no harm in calling the shelter for advice, but please don’t just dispose of your pet because he got in the garbage, scratched your floor, tore your curtain or puked up a hairball. And please understand that the shelter exists to house homeless animals, not to take on the responsibility of training and re-homing a dog, or cat, who has a home and a guardian who just doesn’t want to be bothered. We don’t have the space, or the funds, to extend our services in this way. Thank you for understanding.
