Introduction: MCAS
asked me to help with one of the dogs impounded at the agency for over 2
months. It was a surprise but I hoped that the request represented a
breakthrough, an opportunity to correct the agency’s persistent
misperception of the public as an irritating nuisance, best sent
packing, by demonstrating what cooperation could achieve. I was
wrong. The effort turned into an impossible mission, an effort
sabotaged by the agency’s policies and personnel, a lesson in the
futility of hope for improvement.
Incident Summary: The
request for help had been extended and accepted in late March. The
object of the request was Harley, a blue heeler/pit bull mix whose
owner, a homeless African American with an unresolved methamphetamine
addiction, was likely to remain in jail, leaving Harley with nowhere to
go. I had made arrangements to be helped by a qualified trainer, a
person with extensive experience with special needs dogs, particularly
pit bulls and pit bull mixes, and had previously helped at MCAS and many
rescues and sanctuaries.
The
problems surfaced immediately on the day before the scheduled
appointment when the Grinch began stealing Christmas. I was told that
because Harley had a bite history (while at a homeless camp under
chaotic circumstances) we could see Harley only if I signed an
inter-agency rescue organization agreement, one that read like the
unilateral surrender of a conquered defeated nation (attached).
Never
mind that I was not a rescue organization or that it made no sense to
become one in order to provide requested assistance, the form was
demanded. The form requires permission for MCAS to conduct unannounced
inspections and demands production of all of my records about the many
animals I had placed into new homes. It was wholly inappropriate to the
purpose or needs of the visit.
But I found a way. Jill
Cameron, a rescue with which I am already associated kindly put Harley
and me under her umbrella. Working through Jill Cameron’s approved
Thunder Ridge Rescue, the trainer and I arrived at MCAS early in the
afternoon on April 4.
We signed
the liability forms and entered the agency’s labyrinth of obstacles. We
were first advised first that only one of us could see Harley, only for a
maximum of 15 minutes, and only at the kennel gate or inside his
kennel, limitations that greatly hindered an effective assessment, one
that in fact defeated the purpose of the pre-arranged appointment and
left one of us out of the necessary equation.
Hoping to salvage the
visit without a coin toss, I asked for a modification that would allow
us to see Harley together because we both needed to be present. The trainer was conducting the evaluation; I was there to observe and communicate to potential rescue resources.
When
I approached the shelter manager for help (We were expected. We had
spoken in the morning), he complained that he was on an important
conference call and waved me away. The
staff person in charge of monitoring us sought other staff counsel.
We
waited for a resolution. At first we were advised that each of us could
see Harley for 15 minutes but only separately. Ultimately it was agreed
that the trainer and I could see Harley together, but only for a total
of 15 minutes, not 30. The time limit was non-negotiable. The severe
time constraints -- not the evaluation goal -- dictated the meeting
length but the time permitted was non-negotiable. Our request that we be
permitted to conduct the evaluation outside the narrow confinements of
the kennel was also refused.
Was I requesting to visit a Taliban
prisoner suspected of terrorist activity?
The
severe restrictions were bewildering. We were permitted to see Harley
only from outside his kennel grate or inside the kennel – the enclosure
in which he had been housed continuously without exercise and without
any social contact for three months. We were not allowed to take him for
a walk on the premises, in an interior room or play yard, options
commonly permitted in the past. But we persisted and began the effort,
watched closely by a specially assigned kennel attendant.
The kennel attendant clearly saw her duties as those of a prison guard. She was there to enforce a series of rules that made the evaluation process extremely difficult or impossible.
Because
Harley rushed the kennel door when we approached (after prolonged
unrelieved confinement this was the only small space he knew was home),
we used treats as a welcoming gesture and within 5 to 7 minutes he was
calming down, sitting at the gate on command and giving friendly eye
contact. He had been reported to be a very good dog by family and
others. But the clock and its 15 minute limit kept ticking down as the
guard counted the remaining minutes out loud.
At the three minute mark,
we were told that we would have to leave when the clock struck one. I
am guessing the last minute was needed to make a timely exit. We ended
up with fewer than 10 minutes of meaningful contact, hardly enough for
the effective evaluation needed to provide the assistance that MCAS had
itself requested. Still it was clear from the brief visit that Harley
has a sturdy temperament, able to tolerate social and physical
deprivation and remembers his behavior training.
To
encourage and maintain his socialization, as we left the kennel area we
asked if the staff could follow the Open Paw practice of placing a
small bucket of treats outside Harley’s kennel so that staff could give
him treats as they passed by, a practice proven to lessen barrier
aggression. This request was refused. The staff monitor said no, stating that Harley got two meals, water, and a Kong a day. That
was the rule. (Note: a follow up e-mail to Michael Oswald requesting
re-consideration reversed that restriction by permitting a treat
bucket).
Our
request that Harley be permitted the needed exercise to lessen stress
was rejected for alleged “public safety” concerns despite the many
protocols for safety that when implemented properly indeed allow
exercise without a problem.
After all, Harley is a dog with a sturdy
disposition who has maintained his health despite agency imposed
isolation and exercise deprivation that would drive most sentient beings
crazy. He is described as very good with his owner’s one year old
child, disciplined and well mannered, fine with the owner’s mother’s
dogs, noted as a very nice dog by one of his owner’s social workers. He could easily be exercised safely. Lack of exercise all by itself can lead to stress and an increased safety risk.
The
stumbling blocks posing as rules continued. Our experiences during
Harley’s limited evaluation do not come close to conveying the rigidity
that interferes with normal human behavior. As
we left the kennel area, I recognized a dog whose owners we are
attempting to help and made a passing friendly remark to the dog as I
went by.
I was told to stay
silent and keep walking because talking to dogs on Intake is never
allowed, not even a brief friendly passing acknowledgment.
Even
attempting to confirm the dog’s identity was forbidden. As
I glanced at the card kept outside the kennel, the guard leapt in
front, waving her arms back and forth to block my vision. I was told
that reading was also forbidden, what was contained on the posted kennel
card was only available through a formal request for public records.
I
then asked to take pictures of a senior dog that had been surrendered
to MCAS after her owner died. I had made that request in multiple
previous e-mails after being advised she was only available to rescue.
Although I had purchased the pictures taken for her breed identification
they showed none of her personality and the rescue groups I contacted
asked if I could arrange more. I was refused, informed that today’s
appointment was limited to a visit with Harley. I would need to make a
separate request and return (if the request was granted).
After the visit ended: Just
before leaving, I asked to speak to John Rowton and Michael Oswald
about the day’s experience and the disturbing number of rules that
interfered with providing the help the agency itself had requested. Mr.
Rowton reported that all would have been avoided if I had arrived at
1:30 instead of 2:00 p.m. despite the fact our arrival time was within
the flexible time table.
I was
then told that MCAS had achieved 700 rescues, all uneventful when not
involving me. Both the number and the claim of smooth sailing are simply
false. The real meaning of this false and totally irrelevant comment
was made clear when the trainer overheard two MCAS employees leaving Mr.
Oswald’s office mutter “Just another day with Gail,” a comment that
sums up MCAS’s hostile attitude toward most citizens, not just me.
We
remain “outsiders” even when invited to help, a fact proven when someone
whom came to adopt left, complaining about her own rude treatment and
stating that she would never return.
Conclusion: I
am still going to continue, as promised, to pursue rescue and foster
options for Harley. It is a commitment I made and will honor. After
15 years of working with shelter dogs I have great confidence in them.
Uniformly, once they leave the stressful environment at the shelter,
they quickly become good companions.
What they are reacting to are
layers and layers of pointless rigid rules that don’t improve public
safety and compromise animals’ emotional health and well being.
Thoughtful enforcement isn’t so extreme that it impairs and harms
homeless animals’ mental health. Excessive enforcement also creates
public alienation.
The
2000 Task Force recommendations were never implemented because of a
county culture of intransigence and obstinacy. That has to change. That
was the social contract. Now it should be honored. The county’s failure to honor that contract seeking change is best summarized by the reflection:
“Progress is a nice word. But change is its motivator. And change has its enemies”. (Robert Kennedy)
13 years later, it is time to honor the promised change.
Gail O’Connell-Babcock, PhD
Citizens for Humane Animal Legislation/Watchdog
Sherwood, Oregon
Telephone: 503.625.4563
