Shelter vs. Shelter

Okay, here is one place where we get into the controversial stuff. But don’t get mad at me until you read the whole section. Then you can get mad. Some years ago, the term “No-Kill” shelter was coined. The idea was that this kind of shelter would keep animals until they were adopted, rather than euthanize them in 5 days (or whatever state law said) or when they ran out of room. Of course the public was kept in the dark. Who knew that when Fluffy’s six kittens were dropped off at the shelter, six other kittens had to die to make room? Yet the shelter staff very likely blamed the public for not caring enough to spay their cat. It’s true that part of “the public” may not care’ but they can’t care about something that they don’t know about, and few people really understand the impact that just ONE litter can have.

Then the “no-kill” shelter, would blame the “kill” shelter (the obvious opposite term for “no-kill”) for killing so many animals. The “kill” shelter, and please notice that I’m putting these terms in quotes because I don’t believe we should be using them, would blame the “no-kill” shelter for cutting into their funding because the public is more sympathetic toward a “no-kill” organization. They point out that there is no such thing as a “no-kill” shelter, because animals who are very sick may have to be euthanized. Besides, they argued, the “no-kill” shelters just “cherry-pick” the adoptable animals and leave the sick, the old, and the unadoptable for the “kill” shelter to deal with. Yes, there may be a kernel of truth to all of these arguments, and every organization is different, but I have a simple answer to all of these arguments. STOP IT! JUST STOP IT! Join me in a group hug, link hands and sing Kum-by-yah, watch re-runs of the puple dinosaur, pray for peace, or whatever you have to do to stop the finger-pointing. One of the reasons that animal welfare is in as sorry a state as it is is that the PEOPLE who are working so hard to improve things simply can’t work together.

I’m not a psychologist, but here’s what happened to me many years ago. When we first began rescuing cats, we were doing a new and unique thing. At least, we thought we were. When people told us they had adopted a cat from somebody else, we felt that twinge of jealousy. When gossips would tell us about rescuers who weren’t taking good care of thier cats, besides the concern for the cats, there was that twinge of—not satisfaction—but pleasure in knowing that we were doing things the RIGHT way. Depending on reputation, other rescuers could be a threat or a source of competition. It took a lot of maturity and opportunities to meet and talk with “the competition” for me to realize that we all had one thing in common. We wanted to help the animals. In fact there were more similarities than differences in our feelings and our methods. I learned that, as long as we concentrated on our similarities and ignored our differences, we had a lot more power to make changes in the lives of our animals.

Look at the BIG picture. When there is an opening in a good home for a pet, what difference does it make whether it is adopted from you or me? If it’s adopted from you, it means another opening in your shelter or foster home, and one less desperate phone call for me. We’re not competing for homes. I’m not sure we’re even competing for funding. People who know about an organization and who believe in the mission, will give if they feel moved to do so. And if they feel strongly about another organization, they will give to them too.

A big source of resentment is the “KILL” vs. “NO-KILL” philosophy. So let’s look at that. Kittycorner is a “Limited Admission” shelter. Limited admission is a much better term than “No Kill” because it is a better description of our policies, i.e. we take in cats when we can. And when we’re full, we can’t, because we don’t euthanize to make space. Before you get the impression that I’m putting us on a pedestal, let me explain the reasons:

• Emotional: The cats live with us in our home, and yes, we do get attached. We can give them up to a good, permanent home, but we can’t euthanize a cat who has been with us for a long time without finding a home. Sadly, it can be just as tough on the people who work in shelters that do euthanize for space. Most of them wouldn’t be there if they didn’t care about the animals.


• Practical: We would have to find a vet who would be willing to euthanize a healthy animal. That’s getting to be a difficult task! It’s also an expensive proposition for someone walking into a veterinary clinic with a pet to be euthanized. Though the drugs cost very little, we would likely have to pay for an exam, the veterinarian’s time, and certainly for his (her) expertise. Body disposal, alone, can cost $100 or more. To euthanize in order to make room for new animals would be prohibitively expensive.

But are we on higher moral ground? Not in my opinion. We do get "unadoptable" animals who will be with us for their whole lives. That's where our moral dilemma lies. I can't say that they seem unhappy or depressed, and they are not caged, but the arrangements are far from ideal. There is always the chance that an "unadoptable" cat will be adopted. It has happened often. But it doesn't happen to all of them.

Open admission shelters, whose policy it is to take in all animals who come their way, typically have people on staff who are licensed to procure and administer the euthanasia drugs. They may also have body disposal facilities. THAT DOESN’T MEAN THAT THEY WANT TO USE THEM.
The conundrum that we all face is this: Is it better to euthanize an animal who hasn’t found a home so that you can give another animal a chance, or is it better to turn other animals away until space opens up through adoption?

In practice, every shelter I have visited, all shelter personnel with whom I have spoken, are there because they care about animals. They do not want to euthanize, but they long to get as many animals off the streets and give them a chance for adoption as they can. They also keep the animals for as long as they can so that they can give them a chance for adoption. Many of them live with guilt over the animals they have to euthanize, and burnout is very high. “Compassion fatique” strikes rescuers and shelter workers alike, no matter what sort of shelter they work in.

This discussion wouldn't be complete without mention of the "Low-Kill" shelter. This is sort of a hybrid of the other two systems. Low Kill shelters do not usually euthanize to make room, thus, animals have to be turned away when they are full. The DO euthanize animals who are sick or unadoptable. The controversy, here, is what "unadoptable" means, and it's different for every organization, and under every manager of a given organization. They are walking a fine line and are frequently criticized (sometimes unfairly, in my opinion) for euthanizing too many animals or turning away too many animals. Sadly, it's hard to have it both ways.

Our guilt is over the ones we turn away. We usually don’t find out what happens to them. Are they on the streets, making more unwanted kittens? Were they dumped someplace in the country in the mistaken belief that they can survive “on their own?” Maybe their owner/rescuer found another home or shelter for them. The point is that neither side has anything to feel guilty about. You’re doing your best. Your policies are what they are for a reason, and—provided your policies are based on research and best practice—you have nothing to feel guilty about.

But How Did We Get into This Mess?

There’s a pretty simple answer to that queston. Local governments, who are responsible for animal control, have ignored cats for decades. Dog control is mandated by states, but not cat control. Judging from the laws some localities have made, this could be a blessing! The result, however, is that the problem has gotten so out of control that individuals have taken matters into their own hands. Grass-roots groups have grown up in every part of the country dedicated to rescuing cats living on the streets. At the same time, the population is already so out of control that, no matter how we run our programs, there are so many unspayed cats out there that we just can’t keep up. If we could sterilize just 70% of the cats out there now, the overpopulation problem would solve itself. The shelters, in turn, could use their space for animals who have to be given up by owners--a problem in itself-- and not just the unwanted overproduction of cats belonging to irresponsible or economically disadvantaged people, and the rescuers could take up the slack.


The simple answer to the problem is to "fix" as many cats and dogs as possible, so that we produce as few kittens and puppies as we can. Here's the rub: about 80% of the pets belonging to middle and upper income Americans are already neutered. But only 20% of lower-income families have altered their pets. Surveys show no difference in the percentage of those who desire to alter their pets; the difference is in which group actually DOES it. Statistically speaking, the number of offspring produced by pets belonging to low income families, alone, is enough to cause the entire pet overpopulation problem. That's where we have to look for the solution. Low-income families simply can't afford to pay $100 and up (prices as high as $400 have been quoted to us) to alter their pets.

"But wait!" some veterinarians will say. "If they don't alter their pets, they are being irresponsible. And people who can't afford pets shouldn't have them." Many of us who CAN afford to take care of our pets responsibly would agree. But without getting into arguments about the human-animal bond and the quality that pets add to one's life, I will say simply this: The fact is that poor people DO have pets, and there is no way to prevent that, even if we wanted to. So let's deal with the reality. How do we get low-income pet owners to have their pets spayed or neutered? We need to do outreach and education; but first of all, we have to have a place for them to go where they can afford it.

The Spay and Neuter Syracuse (SANS) Clinic opened in November of 2005, with a $16,300 grant from the Central New York Community Foundation. Our business plan was simple: do all procedures at cost, and include the examination, flea treatment, vaccines and claw clipping (for non-feral cats)--procedures needed by animals who have never been to a vet and might never see one again. As I write this, in June of 2008, we have altered more than 3000 pets, barn cats, and feral cats. Because we do everything at cost, which includes salaries, utilities, and all medical supplies, we have had to raise our fees several times over the years. The current fees are $60 for a male cat, $75 for a female cat, and $80 and up for dogs. In order to qualify, owners have to be on some sort of public assistance, or the animals have to be from a shelter or rescue organization. Feral cats, who technically don't have owners, also qualify. Tests for Feline Leukemia or Feline AIDS, otherwise known as FIV, cost $15 extra.

There are other low-cost programs around. Friends of Animals is the oldest and best established. People purchase certificates to have their pets altered at low rates. Sadly, the certificate only pays for the surgery, itself. Many vets add extra charges, such as the exam, vaccines, blood tests, even pain medication. Many other vets refuse to take them at all, in part because they are supposed to be for low-income pet owners, but no screening is done. They also have to pay $10 of their fee to Friends of Animals. Anyone thinking of using a FOA certificate should check with their veterinarian to find out if the certificate will be accepted, and what the total cost might be.

Shelter Outreach Services is the program that inspired SANS. This ingenous, MASH-style program, where the "hospital" actually moves from place to place, was started by Dr. Leslie Appel. Her staff goes to several different parts of Central New York, most often setting up at a shelter. Local rescue groups bring their animals, and those of the low-income public to be altered. Like SANS, fees are based on the actual costs of the procedures. The closest site, I believe, is in Cortland. Surgeries should be arranged through the CNY Cat Coalition. Call 1-800-289-CATS or visit their website at http://www.cnycatcoalition.org/.

The largest program, by far, is run by Spring Farm C.A.R.E.S. in Clinton, NY. They subsidize spay/neuter surgeries for residents of Oneida County (only) and will often help local shelters as well. They also have a feral cat program, where people can bring feral (wild) cats and barn cats and have them altered at no charge at all. Needless to say, they depend heavily on donations to continue this work, but they have altered more than 100,000 animals in the past few years. Visit their website at http://www.springfarmcares.org/.

If you know of any other low-cost programs, please email me at catresq@twcny.rr.com and I'll add them to this blog, and to our wiki: Straycatsdiary@wikispaces.com.


The question obviously arides, "If spay/neuter is so important and successful, how come we still have such a huge problem?" A quick history lesson should answer that question. In the "bad old days," animals who were taken to shelters were routinely euthaized just to make room for the next batch. An estimated 15,000,000 animals a year died that way. The number peaked in the 1970's, and has fallen steadily ever since. We now euthanize about 4-5 million animals each year. Yes, it's still far too many, and this reflects a shift to "limited admission" shelters, where animals are not euthanized to make space, but newcomers may turned away when the shelters are full. No one, as far as I know, has tracked what happens to them. The "Kill" vs. "No-Kill" philosophy is one of the biggest hurdles to solving this problem, because it keeps so many of us from working together. Actually, it's not the difference in philosophy that is the hurdle; it's our attitudes toward one another.

Help! I Just Found a Cat and Kittens!

It happens almost every day. In fact, we got a call from a wonderful person whom we've known for awhile just a couple of days ago. It put us in mind of something our vet had mentioned: that the Town of Dewitt was talking about an ordinance against feeding cats outside. On the surface it makes sense, but let's look a little deeper:

"Don’t feed it and it will go away?"
Yes, this is the advice that used to be given, and still is, by some agencies. Many localilties (in their ignorance) make laws against feeding strays. I suppose they figure that if the cats aren’t fed, they’ll move on to the next town. Too bad cats can’t read so they’d know where the borders are. True, cats tend to go, and stay, where there is a food source, and it makes sense that if you don’t want a cat around, you shouldn’t feed it. But “cat control” often defies common sense, and we need to take this a step further.

First, the cat may leave your yard, but it will very likely find a food source somewhere; a dumpster, dog food left out for a friendly dog, or neighbors’ garbage cans. Even on a poor-quality diet, it will reproduce. Now, instead of one cat, you have six. The kittens can begin reproducing at as young as six months. The other problem your neighborhood now has is that the kittens are growing up feral. Kittens who are not socialized to humans when they are very young—under 8 weeks of age—may never be tame enough to place in a home. In other words, not feeding the cat might make it move along, but it doesn’t make it evaporate, and the consequences may come back later to haunt the whole neighborhood.

Here’s our recommendation: Do feed the cat. Get it spayed or neutered. Immediately. I know it’s not your cat. Nor is it anyone else’s cat, but it is living in your community, and someone has to nip the problem in the bud. It’s far cheaper to spay one cat now than to try to deal with one cat and its kittens, and it’s kittens’ kittens, and so on. Especially when they all grow up wild. If you are already in this situation, you know what I’m talking about. If not, and you don’t do something to stop a stray cat from reproducing, you’ll learn first hand. Trust me. This is a lesson best NOT learned from experience. If you already have feral cats in your neighborhood, one of these websites will tell you what you need to know. Read them carefully, “listen” to their advice. They will tell you about the ONLY PROVEN “cure” for a feral cat problem. Please go to: www.alleycat.com and/or www.neighborhoodcats.com for well-researched, proven and sound advice.

The Tortie Gang

If you have ever had the privilege of being owned by a tortoiseshell cat, you know that they have ...um...distinct personalities. True, every cat has a distinct personality, but torties and their calico sisters are the true eccentrics of the cat world. Shy and nervous or independent or affectionate, they are quirky little critters to be sure.

Simone is a tortoiseshell manx, born with no tail. Shy and nervous when she arrived with her baby boy, Simon, we thought she would never be friendly enough to be adopted. Simon was also a manx; a little brown tabby who was friendly and affectionate, and he was adopted as soon as he was neutered at 8 weeks. It was about that time that Simone "escaped" from the room where they were isolated to keep Simon healthy, into the rest of the house. At first, like most scaredy cats, she disappeared. Then we began to see her often, and as time passed, she became quite bold. She "hung out" with our own four cats--otherwise known as "staff"--and the dozen or so foster cats who have the run of the house.

We don't exactly work with shy cats, as some rescuers do. We don't have time. We just let them be who they want to be, and astonishingly, they often gain confidence to the point where they become friendly and affectionate on their own. Maybe they learn it from the other cats, or maybe they just get lonely, but the transformation usually takes place. Most of the time it's gradual and happens slowly over the months or even years. Sometimes it happens suddenly, as if the cat decides, overnight, that she isn't afraid anymore. That's what happened with Simone. Simone has been with us for about three years, two as a shy cat and one as a friendly one. But just a couple of months ago, two little tortie sisters came to join us. Mary Elizabeth is short haired and full of mischief. She is on everything, into everything, and deaf to the words "no" and "down." (She does, however, hear cat food cans opening.) Her sister, Mary Rose, is long-haired and graceful with sort of a languid la-de-da attitude. She "helps" with everything. Reading? She's lounging on the book. Tying shoes? Shes attached to the ends of the laces. Using the computer? So is shhhhhhhhhhheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. (Mary Rose, go play with your sister!) Because it was impossible to keep them from escaping from their assigned room, we mostly gave up and let them roam at large in the house. That's how Mary Elizabeth knocked the jar of spaghetti sauce off the TOP shelf in the pantry and broke it. We caught her just in time to save the salsa. It's how Mary Rose unraveled my knitting (it was a cat bed pattern I was trying, so it's her loss!) and it's how they met Simone and formed THE TORTIE GANG. Torties? Gangs? Can a crime spree be far behind?

Now, I don't know if cats really recognize other cats of the same color. I've seen pointed (Siamese-looking) kittens snuggle with a rabbit with similar markings, and orange kittens follow a big orange male cat, and tabby kittens drawn to strange tabby adults. Maybe they just share common interests. But the three torties started playing together, wrestling or sharing toys. Then they started hunting together. Hunting in our house, by the way, means stalking toys or breaking into unopened bags of cat food. But it sure is fun to see a bag with three little rear ends--one with a smooth tail, one with a fluffy one, and one with no tail at all--sticking out of the torn bag. Sometimes they go for the big game--canned cat food. Every kitty gets a spoonful of canned cat food twice a day, delivered to him on a tray in individual dishes. That’s how the Tortie Gang’s first caper came about.

It was the Great Breakfast Tray Raid. Because we often carry a dozen or more dishes at once, our trays are large, and we can’t just slip through the door with them. We have to open the door all the way, and the kitties in the room often take that opportunity to run out. We’re used to that, and a well-placed foot can block them just long enough for us to slip in. Once the food is inside the room, they would rather gather around the tray. ON the fateful morning of the raid, I had put the tray down, made sure that there was a head attached to each bowl, and turned the doorknob to leave. The door was jerked from my hand as three torties barged in, Simone at the lead. They all made for the tray of dishes, nudging the surprised diners out of the way. The poor, displaced cats looked at me as if to say “Aren’t you going to DO something?”

I picked Simone up and put her outside the door. Then I went for Mary Elizabeth, but when I opened the door to put her out, Simone burst in again. I put Mary Rose out next, thinking that with her long-haired, laid-back, ladylike manners, she would at least be a little slower. I was right. I managed to get two torties out before she scooted between my feet and returned to the now-empty dishes. The now-empty tray was the only thing that allowed me to get all three torties on the right side of the door, but they already had their plunder.

After the successful breakfast raid, they moved to bigger targets. The kitchen counters. Most cats try to get up on the counters now and then. Most of them respond to “NO,” or “get down!” and beat a hasty retreat, so I was a little surprised to see Mary Rose pawing at a box of corn muffins, poised almost at the edge of the counter. I said “GET DOWN!,”pointing toward the floor. She looked at me as if to say, “Oh, it’s you. Hi!” and gave the box another shove with her paw. “Mary Rose, NO!” I shouted. She didn’t even look up. I clapped my hands, and finally I pushed her from behind. Her front paws left the counter, but she gracefully twisted around to that the rest of her body didn’t follow. “Get Down,” I shouted. She looked at me quizzically, “What on earth do you want? Please make yourself clear.” About then, the box hit the floor and I went around the other side to pick it up. There was Simone, waiting for the food to land in front of her waiting jaws. Where was Mary Elizabeth? When the box hit the floor, she came out, stretching, from where she had been curled up in the corner behind the electric mixer. She jumped down, followed by Mary Rose, to join Simone in the feast.

Then the tortie kittens came. There were four of them. We put them in a small cage in the living room because they needed to be isolated until they could be tested and vaccinated for all the nasty stuff. The Tortie Gang took an immediate interest. All three of them sniffed around the cage. They reached in to play with the kittens through the bars, they stretched out along the side of it. Yes, they were recruiting. They probably expected to induct these innocent minors into the gang life, but by this time, we had adopted our “get tough” policy. The kittens went into the library with a handful of responsible adult cats, solid citizens all, who raised them to be lovely family pets.

But the tortie gang still tries to break in at breakfast time!

The Rescuer has to be YOU!

Anyone who is local and is reading this blog probably knows about the boxes of kittens being left near a barn in Baldwinsville. Though on an emotional level, cat lovers locally are out for blood, on a practical level, the best thing we can do when we find out who is doing this is to spay his or her cats! I wrote a letter to the Editor of the Post Standard offering to do just that, figuring that there would be no response. But just in case...

What we got was an angry message on our answering machine from a woman who had a stray cat in her yard. "I have called you eight times, and you haven't called me back." Okay, maybe once or twice, and we might have missed it. We get about 20 messages a day, and simply can't return calls when we have no hope or advice to give. Since she wanted help with spaying a stray cat, we weren't sure why she was calling us anyway. Deb called her back to give her the phone number for the Spay and Neuter Syracuse (SAN S) clinic. The woman said that she saw an article in the newspaper offering to spay stray cats for free. It must have been my letter she saw. She had a stray cat in her yard who had already had kittens and she feared she would become pregnant again. Yup, a pretty safe bet. Deb told her about the clinic, but when she heard that she would be expected to pay $85, the conversation ended quickly.

Should we have offered to pay for the surgery? After all, we do it for the cats we take in. And the kittens before they leave us. Anything over 2 pounds gets altered, without exception. But that's the problem. We are teachers who don't get paid over the summer. We have a budget, like most people, but unlike most people, vet bills come before clothes, vacations, eating out, new cars, magazine and newspaper subscriptions (good thing we're both librarians!) and a lot of other things we would like, but the pet overpopulation problem comes first. It's a conscious choice on our part and I'm not complaining. But if we have spayed 2000 cats, can't this person pay for one? At a "low cost" clinic, yet?! Couldn't she take up a collection among her neighbors?! ! After all, she would be preventing a neighborhood problem. Couldn't she even call the clinic and see if she could pay a little at a time? Nope. It's not her cat. It's not ours, either, nor is it the responsibility of any of the other rescuers who do this work out of pocket and with small fundraisers now and then. Homeless cats are a community problem and it's about time more people in the community helped with the solution.

So what will happen to this cat? We don't know. Perhaps our caller will find a shelter or rescue with room. Perhaps someone new will work with the Cat Coalition, or Wayward Paws to open their home to a foster cat, giving them another place to put this cat and others in the future. Or maybe she will just stay where she is, eating out of garbage cans and giving birth to more litters of kittens, who will, in turn give birth to their own kittens and so on. And another feral cat colony is born.

King Butterscotch

King Butterscotch

I posted before about Harvey, our newest staff member. He's been with us for just a few months. Butterscotch is at the other end of the spectrum. He has been with us for most of his ten years. Because of his seniority, he is the Cat in Charge; otherwise known as "the King," "His Majesty," or "Your Highness." He rules with a velvet paw, and most of the cat show due respect. Except Elizabeth, but she breaks all the rules. Butter is proud (in an "Aw, shucks" sort of way) and can be very affectionate when he deigns to cuddle with us mere humans. But he is also a "Cat of the people" and he gives us the benefit of his affection quite often. In fact, he is always ready for an audience with his poor human subjects whenever his is on one of his favorite thrones--either curled up on one of our beds, or in a chair, watching TV. His favorite cuddle time is when he wakes up from a nap. He looks for me with big sleepy eyes and churrs at me until I sit down and hold him on my lap until he is fully awake. Even the most powerful heads of state need a cuddle now and then!

Hello Harvey!

I awoke this morning to the sound of the alarm clock, and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to will myself to get up, dress, and do everything else I needed to do before I went downstairs to feed the cats. A little orange head popped under my arm and the little orange body followed, flowing into my lap; the whole thing preceded by an enormous purr. Harvey relaxed into my lap as if designed for it, and stared up at me with those enormous golden eyes. He was hungry, but in no hurry to get me downstairs; not if he could be petted and cuddled first.

Harvey is our newest “staff member.” That’s what we call the cats that we have adopted, or more to the point, have allowed us the honor of adopting them. Harvey came to us at the ripe old age of eight weeks. He’s a red tabby with white and he has a wonderful friendly, loving personality. In other words, he is absolutely adoptable—one of the easier-to-place cats. But at his first vet visit, Doc noticed something seriously wrong with his heart. He thought it unlikely that Harvey would live to adulthood. The tests that would show, definitively, what is wrong with his heart can’t be performed until he is six months old, and nobody could say, for sure, if he’d even live that long. Since we believe that every cat deserves a home, we decided to give him one.
People often ask us about that. “Don’t you want to keep them all?” No, we don’t. We already have four permanent feline members in our family, and they have put their paws down. NO MORE SIBLINGS. Yes, they do know the difference between cats who are adopted into the family and cats who are up for adoption. But Harvey had no place else to go, and being an affable little guy, they don’t seem to mind having him around. Now, regardless of what the tests show in another couple of months, he’s staying.

Update: In March, Harvey saw a veterinary cardiologist. We showed him the x-rays from December, and the heart was definitely enlarged. He gave Harvey an ECG, and found ABSOLUTELY NOTHING WRONG!! Harvey still gets sniffly and wheezy now and then, but it looks like he will have many healthy years ahead. Now we have to find a job for him. Let's see: Butterscotch is Head Cat. Elizabeth is in charge of Security. Morrow is our Assistant Adoption Coordinator. Halo is in Director of Hospitality. We'll make Harvey Chief of Public Relations. He is "purrfectly" suited for it.