No-Kill pioneer to lead Lakeshore Humane Society

What’s so special about April 9^th, 2012, anyway?  It’s not a national holiday.  It’s probably not your birthday, your spouse’s, or one of your kid’s.  And, thankfully, it’s not the deadline for filing your income taxes.  So, why should all of us living in Manitowoc County, Wisconsin celebrate on April 9^th, 2012?

Because that’s the day Dayna Kennedy officially assumes the position of Director of Operations at the Lakeshore Humane Society!

Well-known throughout the animal world, Kennedy helped turn UPAWS, a shelter near Marquette, Michigan around.  During her tenure with UPAWS, Kennedy successfully saved companion animals from death at a rate of 96 percent, meaning less than 4 percent of the animals that entered the open admission shelter she ran were put down.

Kennedy’s success at UPAWS is often discussed by NathanWinograd, the founding father of the No-Kill Movement, in his public presentations.  In fact Winograd, along with many other No-Kill advocates, considers Kennedy a pioneer in the Movement.  And, it is possible that with Kennedy’s demonstrated success in Michigan, that at least some of the 350 shelters operating in Wisconsin that have the tools necessary to turn themselves around and evolve into No-Kill shelters like Upaws, will do so.  Currently, Wisconsin only boasts of one nationally recognized No-Kill shelter,  Elmbrook Humane Society in Brookfield, WI, but hopefully that will change as other shelters follow the example Kennedy is sure to set in this state.

When Kennedy begins serving the Lakeshore Humane Society as its Director, the shelter will start to adopt its way out of killing animals…something Kennedy’s experience with UPAWS proved is possible.  With Kennedy at the helm, this community will have a shelter that works and staff members that care as much as their leader does…because Kennedy will accept nothing less for the animals, herself, and the No-Kill Movement.

While April 9^th, 2012, really is a day we should all celebrate, the truth is our celebrations should have started about six months ago when  Lakeshore Humane Society’s Board of Directors was elected.  This board inherited a literal mess that included the Society’s horrible yet deserved reputation.  And, this board has taken some very large, difficult steps to address the Society’s obvious internal and external problems.  Hiring Kennedy is only the most recent of these steps.

 

The Lakeshore Humane Society’s current Board of Directors is probably the best one the Society’s membership has elected since the shelter opened its doors in 1970.  And, we all need to remember that whatever success Kennedy is destined to have in our community would not have been possible if the board hadn’t hired her.  The future success of  Lakeshore Humane Society, the future evolution of the Society into a No-Kill facility, belongs to the board members as much as it will to Kennedy.

April 9^th, 2012, is a date we should look forward to with great excitement because it’s going into the history books of Manitowoc County and the animal welfare world.  It’s the date that will mark the beginning of  Lakeshore Humane Society’s transformation from what was to what will be.  It’s the date that will represent a victory for the No-Kill Movement because yet another shelter, our local Humane Society, will recognize that life is the only viable, desirable option for the animals between its walls.  

Happy Birthday Samson!

One year ago today, my adult daughter got the first dog she could call her own, a Bulldog named, Samson.  I didn’t know what to expect as we traveled north to see Samson after he was born.  I didn’t know too much about Bulldogs at the time and had always thought only well-to-do people had them as pets.  Once I saw him, though, I knew he was a cutie!  All puppies are cute, of course, but Samson was the cutest of the cute.

My daughter brought Samson home when he was 12-weeks-old.  And he was a feisty little guy from the moment his paws landed on my daughter’s floor.  That is, Samson was feisty right up until the day he got sick.

Samson hadn’t been at my daughter’s house long before he started to make noises he hadn’t made before…noises my daughter mistook for normal Bulldog noises as most people would, including me.  Bulldogs make more noises than any other breed I know of, after all.

Well, Samson continued to make even louder noises over the next few days and, even more alarmingly, began sleeping much more than he usually did.  Worried, my daughter took Samson to his veterinarian who said Samson needed to see a specialist right away to treat the dog’s severe case of pneumonia.

My daughter and I scheduled the earliest appointment the specialist had available to examine Samson.  Even though he was still just a puppy, the specialist told us that Samson might not survive.  Rather callously, the specialist went on to explain that Bulldogs sometimes are born with such small tracheas that the most humane thing to do is put them down…to deny them a chance at life.  The only thought that crossed my mind as I listened to this presumed “pet care professional” talk was, “This guy is insane!”

Despite the specialist’s lack of bedside manners, Samson stayed at the clinic for three days.  His condition did not improve, however.  Samson was not eating and my daughter and I were reminded of the specialist’s grim prognosis for Samson.  During this stretch of time that seemed like one really, really long day, my daughter kept in constant contact with Samson’s breeder, Laurie, who owns and operates Starr Bulldogs.

Laurie suggested that my daughter and I should visit the clinic where Samson was being treated unexpectedly so we could truly determine if he was getting the best care possible.  Laurie had a dog go through a similar experience before and she advised us what to look out for.  So, we made an impromptu visit and were relieved when Samson seemed somewhat alert…alert enough to wiggle his little stub of a tail when he saw my daughter at least.

Unsure of whether Samson’s semi-conscious state demonstrated he was receiving adequate care or not, my daughter and I decided to sign the dog out of the animal hospital…against medical advice.  We figured the best chance Samson had at recovering his health was with someone intimately familiar with his breed.  So, we turned up the air conditioning in the car as far as it would go and began the three-hour drive to Laurie’s.

We questioned whether we had made the right decision at various points of our trip.  Even though he was riding in the back, we could still hear Samson making the same noises that led my daughter to take him to the vet in the first place.  He sounded horrible.

All of our self-doubts were alleviated the moment we arrived at Laurie’s.  Laurie met us at our car and immediately took Samson from my daughter’s arms.  With an oxygen tent already set up for Samson, Laurie and her husband observed him the whole while it took for Samson to do a complete 180! 

It didn’t take too long for Samson to recover his happy-go-lucky demeanor and begin eating his favorite food.  Having received breathing treatments and lemon to break up the phlegm in his chest over the week that he was with Laurie and her husband, Samson was prepared to celebrate when my daughter and I returned to pick him up.  And celebrate he did! 

Even though Samson still received breathing treatments for a few months after leaving Laurie’s, his health was eventually fully restored.

Looking back, and forward, I am still glad my daughter made the decision to take him out of that veterinary clinic.  I might not have a “granddog” if she hadn’t.  Still looking back, I also now believe that Samson’s pneumonia was caused by a Bordetella nasal vaccine.

Thankfully, Samson is now a happy, healthy, one-year-old Bulldog.  And, he is truly unlike any other dog I have encountered in my life.

I love you, Samson!  Happy 1^st Birthday!  Love, Your Nana!

Remembering Olly

Anniversaries are usually cause to celebrate…but today’s isn’t.  Today marks the one-year anniversary of me having my two-year-old Doberman, Olly, put to sleep.  No one knows this.  My husband does not remember the significance of this date.  Only I do.  Just me.  I remember everything…

Four years ago, my husband and I drove from our home in Wisconsin to Michigan to pick Olly up from a rescue.  Olly was just a seven-week-old puppy at the time.  We were concerned that Olly might be too young to come home with us, but the rescue assured us he was old enough. 

It seemed a little strange, but, then again, the whole situation was a bit awkward.  As I recall, a breeder donated a litter of Doberman puppies to the rescue so the group could make money from the sale of the pups.  I sensed there was more to that story, but I’ll never know for sure.

The first thing I noticed when I saw Olly was his size.  He was so tiny!  He was much smaller than I had expected him to be, but I didn’t care.  He was ours.  I knew he was special from that moment I first laid my eyes on him.

Olly was quiet even as a puppy.  He slept a lot.  He behaved very well during his vet appointments.  And, he was sitting on command by the time we celebrated his 10-week birthday!  He was amazing!

As the weeks went by, my suspicions that Olly was not a typical high-energy Doberman puppy were confirmed.  Instead of wreaking havoc in my home, Olly usually laid quietly by my side during the day.  I had no idea what we were in for when Olly started limping when he was only 11-weeks-old.

I raced Olly to his vet, Dr. Hauser, when I saw him limp the first time.  Olly’s vet said she thought my dog had Pano, a condition that affects fast-growing dogs as I understood it.  The pain medicine she prescribed seemed to help Olly as it worked its way through his system.  But, his limp would return when the medicine ran its course.

Olly submitted to having his blood drawn and posing for x-rays.  Even though his x-rays revealed certain abnormalities, no definitive diagnosis could be drawn from them because of Olly’s youth.  No one knew what was wrong with our dog.

Over the next several months, Olly chose to spend a lot of time in his kennel.  In fact, it was a struggle for us to convince him to come out on a few occasions.  Even though we were barely making enough to pay our mortgage every month, my husband and I decided to take Olly to a specialist.  The specialist told us we had the option of consenting to more tests, very expensive tests, to determine what was wrong with Olly.

I was torn between keeping a roof over my family’s collective head and agreeing to these tests which, according to the specialist, might reveal nothing.  I was mad, too.  I was furious that my husband and I had to make such a difficult decision.  Above all, though, I was just sorry, so very sorry for Olly.

As time went by, Olly went from being on one medication to being on another to being on another.  We had meds to treat his nausea.  We had meds to deal with his occasional diarrhea.  And so on and so on.  We made Dr. Hauser’s most frequent visitors list because Olly went to see her so often.

I spent too many nights to count lying awake trying to comfort Olly.  I stayed awake just as often wondering what I could do to help my dog, wondering if I was being fair to Olly.  The side effects of his medicine had significantly decreased his quality of life.  Olly was even more miserable than I was…and I was in bad shape.

More than once I turned to Dr. Hauser for advice because she knew Olly and me.  She was intimately familiar with Olly’s obvious pain and my personal torment…which was equally obvious.  After I watched Olly continue to suffer for months, I stopped asking Dr. Hauser about what I could do.  And, I began to ask myself some difficult questions.

I thought about why I was allowing Olly to suffer in this life.  Was I doing it because I loved him and wanted him to be with me?  Was it because I simply was not able to let him go?  Were these the same questions?  Even though I commanded myself to answer these questions, to be honest with myself, I couldn’t.  I was confused.  I didn’t have anyone to talk to about my innermost thoughts, so my emotional turmoil just continued…until I had an epiphany.

I finally resolved that I was being selfish, that I was putting my desire to be with Olly ahead of his need to be free of pain.  The hurt I felt when I realized this was indescribable.  I began to talk, literally talk, to Olly about our current situation – him being in pain and me being an emotional mess.  Every so often I asked him if he wanted his pain to end.

The only hint of a response I got from him was that sad look in his eye, the look that made him look much older than just two years.  He barely walked anymore.  It was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done, but I took Olly to his vet one last time and asked that he be put to sleep.

My husband and I held Olly as his vet gave him a shot to relax him.  We were still clinging to him when she administered the last, lethal injection.

 

The whole process was horrifying, but the thoughts running through my mind were tortuous.  What had I done?  I killed my dog.  I killed Olly.  I remember thinking that I was a truly horrible person as I looked at Olly’s lifeless body.  Why had I done this?  How could I leave him lying on that cold floor?

I was inconsolable as Dr. Hauser told me over and over again that I had done everything possible for Olly…in life and, now, death.  She told me repeatedly that most people would not have gone to the lengths I had.

I listened to Dr. Hauser’s words at the time and replay them every so often in my head.  But, even now, I grapple with the decision I made one year ago today.  And, I’m still angry.  I don’t know if spending more money on more care would have helped Olly, but I’m angry it wasn’t an option for me and my husband.

I don’t tell Olly’s story often because it’s not easy for me to get through the tale.  I think about my Doberman a lot, though.  A picture of him hangs in the kitchen above the spot where his kennel used to be.

No, today’s anniversary is not one I’m going to celebrate.  Instead, I will simply take comfort in knowing that Olly is in heaven…and that I will see him again when I get there.

The Water Bowl

Frozen drinks are great, aren’t they?  Everyone enjoys a smoothie or a margarita every once in a while, right?  Well, if you live in a cold climate like Wisconsin, the feral cats in your area may be having too many frozen drinks during the winter months, meaning they may not have sufficient access to the water they need to live.

You can ensure the critters that live outside in your community have access to unfrozen water by purchasing a heated water dish online or in a local pet store.  I purchased mine from Revival and I’m glad I did.  Using the dish, I know the feral cat I care for and love always has water to drink no matter what the temperature is outside.  Of course, I have to check the water level more often than I do with a non-heated bowl because water evaporates faster when heated.

Here in Manitowoc county, there is no program in place to control the population of cats that live outdoors.  None of the county’s municipalities will pick up feral cats, either.  Whether you live in Manitowoc or not, there are probably feral cats living in your community, animals that need help to survive.

If you think about one way you can help the animals in your area this winter, think about giving them access to water.  Investing in a heated water bowl will enable the animals in your locale to have the water they need to live.

The Feline Trio

What a difference time can make.  Just a month ago, I would not have thought I’d again be volunteering for Lakeshore Humane Society or that I would be trying to spread the word about all of the positive, long-overdue changes that are being made within the shelter’s walls.  But, I am a volunteer and I am spreading the word.

Three times a week, I have the absolute pleasure of visiting what I refer to as the “Petco Cats” on behalf of  Lakeshore Humane Society.  The Petco Cats are a trio of cats who, like the feline who stays at Colonial Pet, are the responsibility of  Lakeshore Humane Society.  I spend about an hour-and-a-half with this trio, beginning at 10 am, cleaning their cages and talking to them.

At the start of every visit, I take each cat out of a cage, spend some one-on-one time, and put the animal in an Xpen that has a hiding place in its center.  I take Princess, a seven year-old, long-haired cat who was surrendered by her previous owners, out of her top cubby first so she can enjoy some time stretching and lying in the Xpen.  I enjoy watching her daintily drinking water.  Her behavior makes me think she would like to sit on the back of a couch and enjoy the soothing rays of the sun coming through a window.

Then, I remove Salty from the cubby below the one that belongs to Princess.  Salty was surrendered by his former owner more recently than Princess.  Even though he is adjusting to his new environment well, I can’t help but wonder how he feels.  I wonder how it must be for him to be in a new home without the family that was once his.  I enjoyed the time I spent in the Xpen with Salty earlier today!  He enjoyed the attention I gave him as much as I liked the affection he demonstrated for me!

Finally, I put Stix in the Xpen.  Stix is the only one of this threesome that I think would be able to hold his own during playtime with my dogs – he is feisty!  Despite his youth, Stix has mastered the art of escaping his enclosure and has had me chasing him in and around the store…more than once!

Fortunately, many people come over to play with the Petco Cats as I clean their living spaces.  Chatting with these kind-hearted people allows me the chance to inform them about TNR and the importance of micro-chipping their pets.  I’m amazed by how little people in general know about either TNR or micro-chips and am grateful for these opportunities to share my knowledge and experiences.

When the cleaning is done, playtime is over, and my conversations have ended, I put the Petco Cats back in their respective cubbies.  I usually feel tugs at my heart strings as I close the doors to their cages.  I have to convince myself that these cats aren’t crying for me as I prepare to leave…and that’s hard.

The work – cleaning cages, changing litter, delivering food and water – and the time I devote to these cats are worth it, though.  I know I make a difference to this trio and everyone I meet while caring for them the same way  Lakeshore Humane Society is now making a difference in the lives of the animals it cares for.

When its new board of directors was elected a few months ago, Lakeshore Humane Society began to change – it began to evolve into the kind of facility it was meant to be in the first place.  I don’t know how the Society got so far off track from its mission years ago, but I do know that its current board is right on target with the changes it is making.

I offered to write about Lakeshore Humane Society for a local paper so that members of the public could learn about and support the changes that are ongoing at the facility, but was turned down.  It’s unfortunate because the Society needs the support of its community now more than ever as it prepares to not only fulfill its mission, but exceed the public’s expectations as well.

Yes, time can make a big difference in a lot of ways.  In addition to getting me to volunteer and be a mouthpiece for Lakeshore Humane Society, time has re-instilled my hope for all of the animals cared for by  Lakeshore Humane Society…and for the Society itself.

You were wrong Dad...they were not vermin

When I was a young girl being raised in Eureka, CA, it was not uncommon for my father to shoot cats that wandered into our yard.  He told me the wayward cats were pests that needed to be killed.  His actions and explanation confused me because some of my friends kept cats as pets even though many people in that era did not allow cats in their homes.  I was young at the time and, believing my father knew best, I didn’t think much about my dad killing these animals other than deciding that what he was doing was strange.

Another influential figure during my youth, my aunt who lived in Redding, CA, bred one of her labs hoping to produce saleable hunting dogs.  After she made the drive to visit my family, I overheard a casual conversation between my aunt and my mother during which my aunt described putting puppies in a bag.  My aunt continued to explain that she had thrown the bag of puppies into the Trinity River as she headed toward our home.  My mom didn’t even bat an eyelash as my aunt finished her story.

Even though I had never heard of anyone doing such a thing up to that point in my life, I knew what she had done was cruel and horrible.  I cried and yelled at my aunt as I thought about the fate of those helpless puppies…as I thought about the pain and terror those living creatures must have experienced as they sunk to the bottom of the river without even a chance of making it out of the tightly cinched bag.  My aunt responded to my outrage calmly, explaining that this was how things needed to be done.

My aunt’s response combined with her unrepentant demeanor left me speechless.  As I stared silently at my aunt and my mother in complete disgust and disbelief, I realized that something was very, very wrong with these people, with my family members.  I knew I didn’t belong with them.  I knew that being adopted by this family was going to be a long nightmare as I was only ten at the time.

Now a grandmother, I currently live in Wisconsin, a state I love but one in which time seems to move more slowly than in some of the other places I’ve lived.  I say this because it remains a common practice to shoot cats, or vermin, in this state decades after I was introduced to it by my father.  Why is this?

After all, groups all over America are working to save cats by practicing TNR, or trap, neuter, and return.  TNR involves humanely trapping cats, getting them “fixed” and inoculated at a veterinarian’s office, and returning them to the environment where they were initially caught.  This practice is an effective way to prevent a feline population from growing to an unmanageable number.

Instead of TNR being a common practice in Manitowoc, however, there are people, like the lady I encountered yesterday, who are trying to preserve the lives of cats in their communities on their own.  My recent acquaintance has been providing care for cats living near her home her whole life, but she’s been doing so in fear.  She is afraid that some residents in her community will continue to poison the very cats she is trying to save from a painful death.  She is also afraid that any one of her neighbors may report her to local authorities.  And, she has a reason to be afraid because Manitowoc has an ordinance that states cats are not allowed to roam freely on area streets.

You read that correctly.  Manitowoc essentially outlaws cats from being outside unsupervised.  Why is this law on the books when cats have lived outside for centuries?  And, why are there so few TNR groups in Wisconsin?  Is it because there aren’t enough people who are interested in helping these animals?

No, I don’t think THAT’S it.  Instead, I think Manitowoc’s laws may be preventing more individuals from providing care for the cats in their communities and TNR groups from taking action locally.  While I haven’t reviewed all of the county’s ordinances as of yet, I plan to in the near future.  I believe we all have a duty to protect the animals in our communities whether they live inside or outdoors, whether they have nametags or are anonymous.

Whether you love cats or not, they are going to continue to break the county’s laws and live among us outside.  I think it’s about time we residents of Manitowoc take responsibility for our communities, educate ourselves and others about TNR, and garner as much support for the practice of TNR as possible.  I think it’s time for Manitowoc to handle its cat population with the positive, humane approach that has worked in locations throughout the country.  I think it’s time for Manitowoc to be an example for the rest of Wisconsin’s counties.

Big News at Lakeshore Humane Society

Lakeshore Humane Society’s board of directors finally fired the facility’s shelter manager yesterday – an action that was l-o-n-g overdue.  The Society’s current board is well on its way of overcoming the shelter’s history of poor leadership and indecision, a history that has resulted in the unnecessary, preventable deaths of too many adoptable companion animals.

Now, the board is charged with the task of making a critical choice, one that has the potential to shape the future of the Lakeshore Humane Society while simultaneously redefining its past as a period that demonstrated how the facility should not be operated ever again.  The board of directors must now select a person to serve the Society and its surrounding community as the facility’s shelter manager.  The board must filter through the resumes of people with outdated modes of operating a shelter and those with too little or no experience running a shelter.  The board must find someone to act as the Society’s shelter manager who will treat the animals in the facility as well as he/she treats the humans who visit, someone who recognizes and genuinely appreciates the fact that the animals are the reason the Society exists in the first place…someone like Dayna Kennedy, or simply, Dayna Kennedy herself.

A Manitowoc native, Dayna visits the shelter in her hometown every time she revisits the area hoping the facility has made improvements to its operations…especially since she knows so much about how such improvements can be made.  As a nationally recognized shelter manager, Dayna has earned the hard-won respect of No Kill advocates who hail her facility, the Upper Peninsula Animal Welfare Shelter in Marquette, MI, as one of the best shelters in the country.  Boasting a live release rate above 90 percent, Ms. Kennedy is eager to repeat the success she has had in turning UPAWS around by serving the Lakeshore Humane Society as its shelter manager...all she needs is the opportunity to do so.

For now, all eyes remain trained on the Lakeshore Humane Society’s board of directors to see if the members will continue making decisions that ensure the well-being of the animals within the Society’s walls.  Will they do it?  I sure hope so, but only time will reveal what this board can and will do.  I promise to keep you posted about the board’s continuing progress…or its lack thereof.