One of the most frustrating parts of writing
a pet column is the phone calls from people wanting me to find
a home for their pets. They're getting a divorce. They're moving
in with someone who won't allow pets. They are having a baby.
They're tired of their pet. The dog is barking too much. It can't
be housebroken. The cat won't use the litterbox.
Excuses, excuses, excuses.
The caller is sometimes sad about breaking the
bond they have with their pet. But, oh well. It has to go. They
don't want to hear solutions or suggestions. They don't want to
spend $20 for a dog trainer. They don't want to look for another
place to live that will accept their pet. They want to hurt the
soon-to-be-ex-spouse.
They want a place to dump their pet that will
help them feel a little less creepy about their decision.
The first question they typically ask: Is there
a rescue group I can give my dog to?
No. There isn't. There's not one rescue group
calling around asking for pets to take in. At least none are calling
here.
They're up to their armpits in dogs and cats.
Every spare penny of their paycheck goes to take care of them.
Any free time is spent caring for them.
Dozens of tireless, animal-loving volunteers
work full-time jobs and then go home to take care of a house full
of foster pets. Their own animals get some attention, too.
They go to the shelter and try to save some of
the cats and dogs from the trauma of the noise and commotion or
the sadness that comes with being abandoned by an owner.
Or they find strays on the street, former pets
roaming the neighborhoods looking for a friendly face to save
them.
These rescuers spend hundreds of their own money
to rehabilitate these animals and then keep them in their home
for months searching for a permanent home.
Some people balk at spending $65 or more to adopt
one of these rescued animals. But the price doesn't touch what
is actually spent on the pets.
It's just a figure that covers part of the expense
while giving the animal a monetary value. Some people treat things
they pay for better than things they get for free.
Here's the easiest way to never have to put yourself
in the position to find a home for your pet:
Don't get one unless you are absolutely committed
to taking care of it for its entire life. It's not an impulse
purchase. It's not a possession that gets tossed out in the divorce.
It's a deal breaker when you're looking for a
place to live. It's your responsibility, no matter what.
Don't kid yourself that the pet you dump at a
shelter will find a home. Remember, no one is looking for it.
The shelter doesn't have to hold it for three
working days in hopes that an owner will retrieve it. If the cages
are full, which they typically are, chances are your pet, the
one that gave you unconditional love and companionship, will be
marched straight back to the euthanasia room.
No second chance. No better home. No owner to
rescue it. Just an undeserved ending because someone didn't think
ahead before adopting it.
Part of being a responsible human being is acknowledging
that you aren't capable of being a responsible pet owner.
There's no shame in admitting that. Some people
don't like pets. They don't want the responsibility or expense
of pet ownership. They don't want to make a 12-year commitment.
It's much better to find these things out before
you adopt a pet than it is to call me.
If you call me, here's what I'll tell you. Make
up some cute fliers that feature all your pet's good qualities.
State whether the pet is housebroken or not.
Don't lie. You aren't doing your pet a favor
by misleading a new owner.
Run an ad in the newspaper. Screen people. Ask
them why they want your pet. Do they have other pets? Do they
have a fenced backyard? Will the cat stay indoors?
Charge an adoption fee of $30 or so. You can
always waive it after you spend some time with the potential owners.
But the fee may weed out some unsavory people who only want a
noisemaker in their backyard.
If you have an ounce of decency, you will, at
the very least, keep your pet until you find it a good home. No
matter how long it takes.
It's the least you can do for something that
loves you unconditionally.
Reporter
Cindy Wolff, owner of two spoiled dogs, can be reached by email
at wolff@gomemphis.com.
