It’s hard to imagine loving one’s part-time job. Now, while I’ve never really had a job that I’ve loathed, jobs offered to students are typically not the most glamorous, nor high-paying. Since the age of fifteen, I’ve worked almost exclusively in the food service industry; from waitressing to prepping food to scooping ice cream. Last winter, after starting (again) my first year of university, I found myself working at the Montreal SPCA, and it is by far the most amazing job I’ve ever had.
YOU GET A CAT! YOU GET A CAT! EVERYBODY GETS A CAT!
I would never try to convince anyone it’s an easy job, though I would argue I work in the easiest department in the building: animal placement. As an adoption counselor (and occasional substitute foster family counselor), I have the pleasure of seeing the animals leave. As I’ve said to many adopters and potential adopters over the past year: I love these animals so much, I never want to see them again. There is an overwhelming feeling of love and satisfaction that comes with waving at an animal as it leaves the shelter. While I have of course cried tears of joy on many occasions, I have also cried tears of sadness as well.
The first time I cried was the third week of my employment. It was also the first time I experienced the dreaded retour d’adoption. Maya was a beautiful nine-month-old husky. Her fur was a beautiful rust color, with wisps of dark brown and grey. I can hardly remember the reason she was abandoned at the shelter in the first place, but I do remember that she was adopted and returned twice after that before she finally found a suitable home. She, like many nine-month-old huskies (and frankly, most nine-month-old dogs), had an insane amount of energy. She was also incredibly strong and had an incredible lack of training. She was one of the first dogs I took out of a cage on my own. I had burst blood vessels in my hand and wrist from how much that sweet girl pulled on the leash (now, of course, I never wrap my leash around my wrist. Rookie mistake.). When I came in for my shift and saw her in her cage once again, I broke down crying. I slipped out to the bathroom to compose myself. Then something happened. A spark was lit in me, one that has yet to go out. No, more than a spark: a blazing fire. A blazing fire of fierce love for the animals under my care. A fierce need to protect them at all costs. I remember how strict (and, in retrospect, borderline aggressive) I was with the family that ended up adopting Maya. Happily, like many other cases, they were the perfect fit for her. I think about her sometimes, and I hope she’s having lots of fun hanging out in the suburbs and spending the weekends at Grandma’s farm in Ontario.
Sadly, not all the animals I fall in love with get a happy ending. While I’d like to think my memories are filled mostly with these happy stories, they’re not. On bad days, I remember the heartbreakers. I remember cats being brought it after having been thrown from third-storey balconies. I remember dogs with separation anxiety being brought back too many times to count, and making their trip to the Elysian Fields far too soon (miss you, Pongo). I remember all the victims of shelter life. I remember all the victims of ignorance who died of circumstance.
YOU GET A CAT! YOU GET A CAT! EVERYBODY GETS A CAT!
I would never try to convince anyone it’s an easy job, though I would argue I work in the easiest department in the building: animal placement. As an adoption counselor (and occasional substitute foster family counselor), I have the pleasure of seeing the animals leave. As I’ve said to many adopters and potential adopters over the past year: I love these animals so much, I never want to see them again. There is an overwhelming feeling of love and satisfaction that comes with waving at an animal as it leaves the shelter. While I have of course cried tears of joy on many occasions, I have also cried tears of sadness as well.
The first time I cried was the third week of my employment. It was also the first time I experienced the dreaded retour d’adoption. Maya was a beautiful nine-month-old husky. Her fur was a beautiful rust color, with wisps of dark brown and grey. I can hardly remember the reason she was abandoned at the shelter in the first place, but I do remember that she was adopted and returned twice after that before she finally found a suitable home. She, like many nine-month-old huskies (and frankly, most nine-month-old dogs), had an insane amount of energy. She was also incredibly strong and had an incredible lack of training. She was one of the first dogs I took out of a cage on my own. I had burst blood vessels in my hand and wrist from how much that sweet girl pulled on the leash (now, of course, I never wrap my leash around my wrist. Rookie mistake.). When I came in for my shift and saw her in her cage once again, I broke down crying. I slipped out to the bathroom to compose myself. Then something happened. A spark was lit in me, one that has yet to go out. No, more than a spark: a blazing fire. A blazing fire of fierce love for the animals under my care. A fierce need to protect them at all costs. I remember how strict (and, in retrospect, borderline aggressive) I was with the family that ended up adopting Maya. Happily, like many other cases, they were the perfect fit for her. I think about her sometimes, and I hope she’s having lots of fun hanging out in the suburbs and spending the weekends at Grandma’s farm in Ontario.
Sadly, not all the animals I fall in love with get a happy ending. While I’d like to think my memories are filled mostly with these happy stories, they’re not. On bad days, I remember the heartbreakers. I remember cats being brought it after having been thrown from third-storey balconies. I remember dogs with separation anxiety being brought back too many times to count, and making their trip to the Elysian Fields far too soon (miss you, Pongo). I remember all the victims of shelter life. I remember all the victims of ignorance who died of circumstance.
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| A beautiful cat who was recently adopted from the Montreal SPCA. This was one of the few good pictures I could get of her, because she kept rubbing her chin against the lens of my camera. |
I ACTUALLY WROTE A POEM ABOUT THIS FOR CLASS ONCE
Because that’s truly what shelter animals are: victims of ignorance. Fourteen thousand is the annual average of animals brought in to the Montreal SPCA. Yes, a fair number of those animals (more specifically, cats) might have been born outside, and bringing them to us was an act of kindness on the part of the public. But too many of those fourteen thousand animals were brought in because they were unclean, too big, too small, too loud, too old. As a (sadly, soon-to-be former) colleague of mine put it, animal shelters are a big hole in to which people dump their responsibilities.
As I mentioned above, I have seen the worst of humanity in their treatment of animals. Puppy mills, hoarders; animals beaten and burned and shot. But the thing is, they’re not the majority of the people whose animals end up in our care. While we do have at any given moment hundreds of active inspection cases, the vast majority of animals are brought to the shelter because people are simple uniformed. They think declawing a cat is a solution to its scratching problems. They believe putting a choke collar or a prong collar around its neck is the most efficient (and only) way to train their big, strong dog. They think letting a husky puppy run around the yard for thirty minutes a day is enough exercise (and then wonder why she starts biting people). These are not malicious people. These are people who truly love their animals. These people are simply uneducated. They get their animals from pet stores and (now more than ever) the internet, with no knowledge of what they are getting in to. Some might believe they are getting their dogs from breeders, only to be purchasing from puppy mills. On sites like Kijiji, animals are given and traded like Pokémon cards, all to make a quick buck.
Many of the animals in shelters do not die of disease. They die of circumstance. Circumstance of breed (3000 pitbulls are put down in shelters in the States every year), circumstance of age, circumstance of timing. Their owners get sick or get divorced or move, or simply do not have the time to take care of them (though they did have the time to buy them in the first place, but that’s an argument for another day). If these cats and dogs had lived in different circumstances, they would have died in different circumstances too. Hopefully, circumstances in a very distant future.
KNOWLEDGE IS STILL POWER
I think, for me, that’s the most frustrating part of my job: dealing with the ignorance. There are a lot of people happy and open to learn about what they don’t know. However, there are equally as many people on the other side of the spectrum who refuse to listen. I sometimes think it might have to do with the age and gender of our counselors (all females in their twenties), but often wonder if it’s something else. Why would one not be open to not declawing one’s cat if statistical evidence is being presented that suggests it’s a terrible idea? Why would one nod along in agreement with recommendations on positive reinforcement training, then go home and put a choker around their dog’s neck (and bring the dog back when it starts developing behaviour problems)? And, the one that baffles me most: why would one lie about having children just to have that dog? Why would one put one’s children at risk like that?
I REALLY DO TRY TO GIVE PEOPLE THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, I SWEAR
It’s really hard not to judge people, doing the job I do. I’m naturally quite a pessimistic person. I don’t know if that’s just the way I’m wired, or if it’s something that’s developed over time, but that’s how I am. I always try to be cheery with clients at work, or at the absolute worse, passive-aggressive. It becomes more difficult, however, when faced with complete and utter lack of empathy. People believe that we just want to give animals away. As a kill shelter (God, I hate that term), we do prioritize placing the animals above all else, but we still have to maintain a certain level of strictness. We are, after all, not just an animal shelter, but the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. We have a duty to these animals. We are their voice, and we have to, above all else, represent their needs.
In Quebec, animals are seen as objects. Legally, they have no rights. This is why, unless the SPCA gets involved, the government does nothing to stop puppy mills or animal hoarding, and little to no jail time is given to perpetrators of animal cruelty. I think a lot of people who come into shelters don’t realize that that is the reality we as shelter workers face every day: utter powerlessness. We work in a system bound by legal and financial constrains, where ethics are often set aside. This is the reality of our world, and every day, little by little, we beat against a brick wall trying to fight it.
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| Pictures from the really cool photo booth we had at our annual Christmas party (December 2014). These are just a few of my amazing, hard-working, passionate coworkers that I have the privilege to call my friends. |
I think, at the end of the day, we are all victims of circumstance. The veterinarians and vet technicians who work at the Montreal SPCA do not enjoy putting animals down. No employee looks at our euthanasia rate and is happy with it. Every day, we fight a system that is (currently) designed for us to lose. Now, I know that we will never live in a world where ethics and morality will be more important than money or legalities. I know, like all things, animal welfare is not black and white. There is never a simple solution to anything. There are so many grey areas, and like all things, we have to pick our battles. The world will never stop relying on industrial farming; it’s just not realistic. Vegetarianism and veganism are not rights; they are privileges. There aren’t “two kinds of people in this world”. Nothing is ever that simple. Animal shelters are not ASPCA commercials. Not every shelter animal was abused or neglected. Ethics is not empirically more important than legalities, or vice versa. I think, however, there is one thing we could all agree on: people should always try to be good and kind, to all species. Be kind to animals, be kind to shelter employees, be kind to your neighbours, and be kind to your enemies. If we kill ‘em with kindness, maybe one day, that’s all the killing that will be done.
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