Land of the free

It happens every day: Rural dogs abandoned in the city, city dogs set “free” in the country, a dog pushed out of a luxury sedan in a slum, a slum dog ejected from a rust bucket uptown. Same with cats. It’s a quick fix: Load the animal up, drive far enough from home so that he can’t return, slow down just enough to open the door and push him out (small animals can be tossed out of the window while driving), speed off. It takes a sociopath.

Sociopath is too strong a word? Let’s see: Cruelty to animals is psychopathic behavior… Compounded by social consequences such as draining vital resources from communities, turning animal shelters into extermination camps … causing untold anguish, struggle, injuries, expenses, and quality-of-life degradation to individual rescuers… And the perp feels no remorse, but relief or a sick thrill. It’s the right word.

For every one of the 78 million dogs and 86 million cats accounted for in US households there is probably a homeless counterpart. Nearly 8 million of free roaming dogs and cats end up in US animal shelters every year -- 9,000 of those are euthanized every day. According to Animal People Newspaper 26 million cats and 6 million dogs end up as road kill. Millions more live short, diseased, frightened lives. And still they live long enough to have offspring, but litter mortality is practically 100% unless they are quickly rescued.  So, how come that the numbers don’t shrink by attrition? Because people keep acquiring pets they don’t need, letting them breed, and then “getting rid” of the animal. It is a fact that most free-roaming dogs and cats were owned at one time or another. Yes, some adventurous pets (usually not spayed or neutered by their owners) wander away from homes where they are cared for and wanted. Others escape from places loosely called homes, from industrial yards, and other environs where not even cockroaches will linger. But many dogs and cats (as well as other pets) are intentionally, cold-bloodedly abandoned in streets and fields.

This one, a Chow-Shepherd mix breed, appeared, as if by magic, on 14 July 2011. He – an intact male, naturally – was not a neighborhood dog and the telltales of recent abandonment were there: Lingering on one spot, looking around expectant, uncertain, bewildered. Where the hell am I? No identification. I tried to approach him, treat in hand, but he walked away every time.  He was leery of people but seemed eager to befriend dogs and so I took Astra and Janowitz for a walk to see what happened.

His desire for dog company was stronger than his reluctance to approach people and soon he fell in with us. We were a jolly little pack trotting down the street… until he tried to mount Janowitz who wanted none of it. It was Houston-hot and despite the struggle to thwart his romantic approaches we kept walking to get him good and tired. Back home I gave him a large bowl of cold water … he buried his face in it, drank and drank, and then, in the shaded front porch he went to sleep … After a brief interruption for dinner, he went back to sleep blocking the front door. Next morning he was there, eager to join us for the morning walk.

Fast forward: “Found” signs and other attempts to find an owner predictably failed. The shelter was out of the question because he is of short temper and at the first growl he would get the needle – yes, 60% of dogs and 70% of cats who enter shelters are euthanized (ASPCA data). So it was up to me and Chris’ magnanimity to provide extensive veterinary care for a 10-12-year old senior dumped like trash by the curb.

Whoever did this to Mago, “the magician,” will go unpunished. Before he does it again, I hope he bleeds and dies in a gutter. Mago will not. He growls menacingly at potential adopters, lawn service trailers and yard workers, at men with long beards, at the UPS truck, at people who play the guitar, at anyone who approaches the house … Quite by accident, he has found his avocation.