Pound Pooch

diary of a shelter worker.


the bearer of bad news

Sometimes I feel like a really mean person. I have to tell people all sorts of things that I am sure they are not particularly pleased to hear.

A woman came in today, bearing her 93 year old grandmother's dog. The dog was 12 or 13, and we were not going to be able to put her up for adoption, due to her age. We can barely find homes for the cutest, healthiest 4 year old dogs. I had to break this to the woman and have her sign a form releasing the dog for euthanasia. (I also had to wonder why this woman brought in the dog to die in a strange room with strangers. I also had to walk the dog back and hold her while she died with strangers instead of her person.)

Another woman came in today asking if she could have her animals back that were confiscated from her house. After speaking with animal control, I had to tell her that she couldn't have the animals back until the police were convinced that the animals would be safe from another one of her family members. Not the news she wanted to hear.

Highway Patrol marched in an arrested man, with his dog trailing behind him. We asked him his personal information and impounded his dog. Later that day, I called the man's dad and let him know that the dog was at the shelter and asked if he wanted to pick the dog up. The father had no idea the son had been arrested, and I didn't have the information to tell him why.

I am not a mean person. I want animals and people to live long happy lives, together. I just can't stick my head in the sand.


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