The No-Kill Conference was overflowing with people who have actually DONE it…actually taken their major city or metropolitan area from killing animals to NOT killing animals. One of my favorite parts of the No-Kill Conference was Nathan Winograd (“New York doesn’t NEED a Nathan Winograd” – Jane Hoffman) asking speaker after speaker “After you decided not to kill animals anymore, how long did it take to become no kill.” This confused most of the people he asked. “Uh…it was instant.” “One day.” “That same day.”

Jane Hoffman and the Mayor’s Alliance and the organizations who are reliant on the money that comes from the Mayor’s Alliance (Maddie’s Fund money) have been at this for YEARS and the CACC still reportedly kills at least a thousand animals A MONTH.

That means that at the CACC alone they kill three times as many animals in a year as my entire state (Connecticut) does.

If you want to see all the arguments the other side has for continuing to kill animals, I am reproducing an email we received recently. Embedded in this email are all the arguments the Mayor’s Alliance and the ASPCA are using to keep Oreo’s bill from passing and to keep control over the lives of the animals in New York city, deciding who will live and who will die. Please read through the email and we’ll talk about it afterword. It is actually in response to my blog Best Friends Welcome to New York. Here it is:

This sour grapes is astonishing.

Or maybe it isn’t….maybe its just sad.

I work with a no Kill rescue that pulls and places over 600 NYC Companion animals every year with just a handful of volunteers.

And frankly, I wouldn’t leave a rescued hamster at Pet’s Alive. It was a horrific hoarding facility before BF spent all that time and money in rehabilitating not only the facilities, but the hoarding mindset that was entrenched there. The especially painful thing is that Pets Alive has reverted to some really awful practices that lead to death after death of the animals in their care….all while they point fingers at other shelters that do their killing more honestly and directly. But dudes, death is death. And withholding medical care from sick animals in your care is imposing a truly horrific death on those poor captive animals.

Which I guess is why, rather than keep on watching cats in your care die of stress induced dehydration and anorexia, you are implementing the release NON FERAL domesticated cats (most of whom have been living in cages for years and have no survival skills) out into….well, the streets, basically.

Nice job! You don’t have to take direct responsibility for the deaths, but you wash your hands of the responsibility.

Watching the battle between you and Mayor’s Alliance is like watching two pigs in the mud calling each other “dirty”.

I can’t fault Best Friends for wanting to distance themselves from the failure they had in getting you guys to do the right thing.

Since Oreo’s law would have forced the city to hand over dogs and cats to facilities like yours, I was against it as well. And, as I said, I work with an exclusively no kill rescue. None of the local NK rescuers I know feel any differently than I do, about Oreo’s law, nor about Pet’s Alive.

The national PR campaign has been brilliantly run, however. I have to give you that.

Arguments against Oreo’s Law and against no kill in general can be distilled into the following:

1. Why can’t we all just get along? So we see things a little differently (we want to kill animals and you don’t). Stop pointing that out to everyone. We are supposed to be in this together. I actually had someone tell me at the no-kill conference that “we are on the same team.” I said “Really? I’m on the team that doesn’t kill animals. What team are you on?”

2. You suck. You are hoarders, crazy people, idiots, bullies, terrorists, Republicans. And everyone knows it.

3. You’re just doing this for your own gain. You just want publicity, money, recognition, etc. What we find really ironic is that this is usually said by people who take donations from people and then pay themselves salaries of several hundred thousand dollars.

4. We know better than you. Who do you think you are, daring to suggest that there is a better alternative than killing? This usually starts with some inflated credentials of the person making the excuse and then is normally followed by excuse 2 – You suck.

5. We don’t kill animals — we end their lives. This was started by an HSUS killing technician that was giving a killing seminar at one of their conferences. The idea is that the kill shelters do the best killing, but it’s not really killing. It’s helping healthy, adoptable animals by ending their lives. That’s not a joke.

6. Moral relativism. Some animals are better off dead. One animal’s life is more valuable than another’s. And they are definitely better off dead than with you.

Notice something very important. All the arguments are about either US or THEM. They are not about the animals and their lives.

So let’s analyze this email using those arguments.

This sour grapes is astonishing.

So I’m confused already, and I’m 5 words in. Sour grapes? Aside from the fact that this person is leading their debate argument with a hackneyed cliche, where are the sour grapes? Sour grapes is an expression originating from the Aesop Fable The Fox and the Grapes. It refers to envious behavior, especially pretending to not care for something one does not or cannot have.

What are we envious of? Best Friends? The Mayor’s Alliance? Hardly. I’m guessing this is a combination of excuses 1 – Why can’t we just get along and 2 – You suck.

I work with a no Kill rescue that pulls and places over 600 NYC Companion animals every year with just a handful of volunteers.

Uh oh. Credentials are being whipped out. Expect the one two punch…excuse 4 – We know better followed by excuse 2 – You suck.

And frankly, I wouldn’t leave a rescued hamster at Pet’s Alive. It was a horrific hoarding facility before BF spent all that time and money in rehabilitating not only the facilities, but the hoarding mindset that was entrenched there.

Bang…there it is. Textbook. We suck. And I don’t even know where to start. Just look at this sentence, the terrible sentence structure and use and the pretzel logic that ties itself up into knots. I understand why this person would go out of his or her way to mask their identity. Wow.

1. What’s your beef with hamsters? Made me think of PJ and the Empty Cages Collective. They SAVE hamsters.

2. It was a “horrific hoarding facility.” Facilities can’t hoard. Yes…Sara Whalen in the last few years of her life, developed brain cancer and things went downhill. And yes, BF did spend that time and money “rehabilitating” the place. I’m not sure how you rehab the mindset of a dead person…Ouija board? Seance? Channeling?

Okay, so this person sets it up that Best Friends “fixed” the hoarding problem, right?

The especially painful thing is that Pets Alive has reverted to some really awful practices that lead to death after death of the animals in their care….all while they point fingers at other shelters that do their killing more honestly and directly.

We have? What practices would those be? How many animals have we killed? Death after death? Wow…someone needs to fill me in. Ready folks? Here’s a statistic for you. Since Kerry and I took over, here are the number of animals euthanized that weren’t suffering:

0. Zilch. None. Nada.

So I ask this person to come forward and provide the proof to back up the statements. This is, of course, excuse 2 – You suck with a little of 4 – We know better. But to be fair, we have made baseless anonymous accusations against organizations that are definitely actionable (that means can be sued over). Oh wait…that would be YOU.

I want you all to pay very close attention to the end of this paragraph. This is 5 – We don’t kill – we end lives rearing it’s ugly head. Can you possibly imagine someone making the argument that they kill better than we do? That’s exactly what this says: shelters that do their killing more honestly and directly. That’s what we want to fight for…honest and direct killing. Sigh. We’re not even in the same universe here, let alone on the same planet.

And withholding medical care from sick animals in your care is imposing a truly horrific death on those poor captive animals.

Which I guess is why, rather than keep on watching cats in your care die of stress induced dehydration and anorexia, you are implementing the release NON FERAL domesticated cats (most of whom have been living in cages for years and have no survival skills) out into….well, the streets, basically.

Huh? We do what now? We withhold medical care from sick animals? That would come as a surprise to Janet, our medical liason, and to the cadre of vets we paid $150,000 to last year to care for our animals. It’s on the 990. See for yourself.

And we’re what? Releasing domesticated cats on to the streets? We are? Where and when? Let’s see one shred of evidence of any of this.

Yawn.

My mind wandered as I was reading this prattle and for some reason I thought of the scene in Ghostbusters (one of the greatest New York City movies of all time) when Bill Murray is trying to convince the mayor that there are some serious problems coming:

Dr. Peter Venkman: Or you can accept the fact that this city is headed for a disaster of biblical proportions.
Mayor: What do you mean, “biblical”?
Dr. Raymond Stantz: What he means is Old Testament, Mr. Mayor– real wrath-of-God type stuff! Fire and brimstone coming down from the sky! Rivers and seas boiling!
Dr. Egon Spengler: Forty years of darkness! Earthquakes, volcanoes…
Winston Zeddmore: The dead rising from the grave!
Dr. Peter Venkman: Human sacrifice! Dogs and cats living together! Mass hysteria!

Nice job! You don’t have to take direct responsibility for the deaths, but you wash your hands of the responsibility.

Huh? What deaths? Who’s hands?

Watching the battle between you and Mayor’s Alliance is like watching two pigs in the mud calling each other “dirty”.

I can’t fault Best Friends for wanting to distance themselves from the failure they had in getting you guys to do the right thing.

We’re fighting with the Mayor’s Alliance? Where? And again…first hamsters then pigs. What’s your beef with pigs now?

Best Friends is distancing itself from a failure? They are? So that was a DIFFERENT Best Friends we worked with to save 120 Beagles on Independence Day? You know, the video that was viewed by 50,000 people? If you combined ALL of your loyal supporters of all time, supporters who believe in you and sustain you and spend their hard earned time and toil to help you, would it add up to anywhere near 50,000?

Since Oreo’s law would have forced the city to hand over dogs and cats to facilities like yours, I was against it as well. And, as I said, I work with an exclusively no kill rescue. None of the local NK rescuers I know feel any differently than I do, about Oreo’s law, nor about Pet’s Alive.

A-HA! So here we are at the core of this “argument.”

That paragraph encapsulates just about all the excuses above. We suck. They know better which lives should be saved and some animals are better off dead then with us.

Oh and by the way…all of the NK rescues agree. ALL of them? In the whole state or city of NY? Does that include the ones that call us every day and beg us to take their animals? The ones like Empty Cages Collective and the many, many others we work so well with? Or does it really just include YOU and the other stooges that need the money that is on the table more than you need to stick to your ethics and your morality?

That’s ok. We’ll do it without you.

So…who wrote this? Honestly I really don’t care. It’s someone who doesn’t have the stones to identify themselves. Someone who has used an email address that appears nowhere else on the Internet. This is basically an anti Pets Alive rant. And it’s not even original. At first I thought it was the nutjob we had to throw out of the cat house because he was, well, crazy. But there are too many big words and not enough grammatical errors.

I traced the IP address to a Roadrunner POP on 89th St. between 2nd and 3rd. Interestingly enough that’s where the ASPCA’s Roadrunner would terminate, as well as a building on 83rd St. that houses Blackstone Investments, where Jane Hoffman’s husband works and an address with which her name is connected. Hmmm. (I’ve been doing this since 1993. I will always find a thread to tug on.)

Here is my challenge to the writer of this letter. I will have them picked up in the city and driven to Pets Alive. Nice town car. They can sit in the back and be a big shot.

They can get the tour and they can present the evidence of all the accusations they have made.

That day they can either apologize and start working with us to end the killing of animals in New York, or we will admit that they are right.

Easy deal. Never happen. I’ve made it a dozen or so times and not a single person would take it. I’ll even throw in a network camera crew to film the entire event. If “all the groups in New York” agree, then all of you should get together and take me up on the offer. You can get rid of us once and for all. Yeah. I thought so.

So let’s get to the important part of this blog. How to counter these arguments. These arguments are non-sensical and designed as sleight of hand to move the debate away from the facts and on to us. That’s called ad hominem, which means insulting or belittling one’s opponent in order to invalidate their argument.

So how do you invalidate these arguments? Simple…

Keep the Oreo’s Law argument as a debate about right and wrong.

Here:

Opponent: Well, Pets Alive is Satan. Living and breathing and walking the earth.
You: Do you think it’s right to kill an animal when there is another alternative?

Bang. Right between the eyes. That’s all this debate is.

It’s about what’s right. It’s about saving the lives of animals. When they use scare tactics get them to admit they believe only THEY know what’s good for these animals. Good equals right. So killing them is sometimes RIGHT.

NEVER. Killing an animal when there is another alternative is WRONG. That resonates time and time again. It’s, like Oreo, black and white. Simple. All the smoke and mirrors in the world will never change that. Oreo is NOT better off dead. She is better off in a brand new run with our trained employees and volunteers caring for her and loving her. But she’s dead. So she can never get better. Killing her was WRONG.

Morally WRONG. And you have not only the right but the OBLIGATION to point that out. Don’t let them bully you.

What I find absolutely fascinating about the other side saying that only THEY know which organizations are best for these animals is language that a horder would use to justify hoarding. Just for giggles I included the language from the New York City Bar Association, one of Jane Hoffman’s puppet organizations that outlines some of the reasons Oreo’s Law could never work below:

The Mayor’s Alliance for NYC’s Animals, Inc., founded in 2002, is a coalition of more than 160 animal rescue groups and shelters that are working with the City of New York to place shelter animals. The groups and shelters are vetted and meet minimal requirements. The Mayor’s Alliance reports that 1,500-1,700 animals each month in New York City alone are sent to rescues by Animal Care & Control.

The Proposed Legislation may well undermine a collaboration already working to save New York City’s animals. It would be advisable to evaluate whether similar collaborations or transfer arrangements exist or could be established in New York State before passing legislation that does not require and enforce standards for humane care and treatment or otherwise establish that the 501(c)(3) is indeed a “responsible” and reputable” alternative.

Hoarders. Hmmm. Only they know who is responsible and reputable, and saving more animals will undermine their coalition who have taken eight years and need another five to solve the problem other communities have solved instantly. There’s a word for that…failure.

Fight for Oreo and the other innocents who will lose their lives because of people who place their egos and money in front of doing the right thing.

Lock and load.

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We are currently waiting for the vet from the Jersey Shore Animal Center to examine the kittens and determine if they are too sick to live.

Our attorney is going to get in touch with their attorney in the next day or so.

Other attorneys are getting involved and there will probably be a lawsuit.

Pat Wallace, their Executive Director, is a liar. My impression of their board is that they are weak and don’t challenge what Ms. Wallace says. Been there. It never ends well. Ms. Wallace is an arrogant tyrant who views animals as “her property.” Here’s what she said to one of our supporters:

“they are our property and we have rules.” I replied that considering them property may be the problem. She also said that the woman who found them should have done her research prior to dropping them off.

That’s gonna make a great deposition, isn’t it?

They are misinformed about feline FIV, feral cats, and how to run a shelter. That’s not unusual. What I guess amazes me is that their arrogance and indifference to the lives of these animals.

I’ve spoken to three members of the board. I email or call Ms. Wallace every day to ask her not to kill the kittens, but rather to hand them over to us. The disgust and contempt in her voice when she hears my name makes this all worthwhile. She’s an animal killer. I don’t like her. I’m happy we’re making this difficult for her.

She called us terrorists in the press. One of their board members called us terrorists today. Terrorists? Wikipedia says terrorism is

“violent acts which are intended to create fear (terror), are perpetrated for an ideological goal, and deliberately target or disregard the safety of non-combatants (civilians).”

Let’s play a game I like to call who’s the terrorist?

violent acts – Our acts so far are words, via phone calls, faxes and this blog. Unless you can die from a paper cut, there’s no violence. They intend to kill, violence of Biblical proportion.

intended to create fear – They are certainly telling us over and over that they don’t fear us. Pat Wallace’s famous words to me are “HAVE AT IT.” So we are. Wonder if those innocent kittens waiting to die fear for their lives.

Perpetrated for an ideological goal – This one we are guilty of. Not killing innocent animals is sort of an ideological goal, though I just consider it an act of morality. Their ideological goals seem to be control and the triumph of arrogance over right and wrong.

Deliberately target or disregard the safety of innocents. Hmmm. Who are the innocents here? Certainly not these hard hearted rubes. It’s the animals.

So the terrorists here are actually the Jersey Shore Animal Center management and board, and the terrorist acts are against innocent kittens, though honestly calling these people terrorists is an insult to terrorists worldwide.

One of the board members said to me today that we are “ignoring all the good they do and focusing on this one incident.” For some reason at that moment an old joke one of my former bosses used to use all the time popped into my head…”other than that Mrs. Lincoln how was the play?”

This is what we call a Red Herring., which, again according to Wikipedia is a rhetorical tactic of diverting attention away from an item of significance.

This was the defense of the ASPCA in killing Oreo as well, and Best Friends remaining neutral with Oreo’s Law. That is called Moral Relativism, which states that morals and ethics can be altered from one situation, person, or circumstance to the next. Uh, no. One animal’s life is not better or worse or more or less important or worthy of saving than the next. Period. Nice try though.

Perhaps the most amusing conversation through all this was a “gentleman” by the name of Peter Campione of Kindred Souls Canine Center who harassed Jen this morning and then threatened me. He told me that everyone in New Jersey knows that Pets Alive is a bully, and all we want to do is fight with them. He also told me that “we’re going down.” If I had a dollar for every time someone told me I was going down I’d be rich. Hmmm.

Yeah…I’d much rather be talking to this meathead from Jersey than be home in my hammock sipping a cold drink and reading my book. You betcha.

So we’re bullies. To treat in an overbearing or intimidating manner. Hmmm. Not sure I have a defense on that one. The thing everyone misses is that we always start off asking nicely. Then we offer a way out. Then we call in the troops. Shrug. Sorry. That’s what it takes sometimes.

Apparently Mr. Campione has some information about my male anatomy of which I was not aware. I’m not really sure if that’s relevant to this argument, but it certainly is a big red herring. My apologies to the ladies who follow this blog but I just couldn’t help myself.

So let’s see if our friends in Jersey find the truth. Honestly it’s going to have to find them.

This is their chance to do the right thing. If they don’t the gloves are coming off.

Thanks for your support and thanks for helping us save these innocents.

Oh, and by the way. Remember how in my last blog I posted picture of  our FIV kittens and cats playing in our FIV room? Happy. Healthy?
Now THESE pictures? These are all of FIV positive kittens and cats that have been ADOPTED from Pets Alive. All still alive, and all still happy and healthy.

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In reality it was very simple.

It was about telling 120 beings that their lives were worth something.

That we are sorry for our species.

That we apologize for what some of us have done.

That we aren’t ALL like that and those of us that aren’t – want to make a difference.
To help.

To embrace those lives, whisper in their ears that it is over now, that we’ll not let anything bad happen to them ever again.

At Pets Alive our staff worked very long hours. Our volunteers were here every day and then took work home with them. We got hundreds of applications for the 90 beagles we brought to our facility. And we poured over every single one. In rooms with a half a dozen people. We discussed all the applications. The criteria? PERFECTION. Not a single one of the people working on applications took it lightly. These dogs had lived a life of hell. We were going to make damn sure that the homes we selected for them would be wonderful.

It was a huge responsibility. People can lie. People can tell you half truths. We checked their references, we called their vets and talked to them endlessly about the kind of people these were. We felt a HUGE weight on our shoulders to do right by these dogs….we of course have this weight with every dog, but for the beagles it was even more important. We had so many apps, that we could pick and choose the people and give them a golden ticket. Staff often chose people with kids – so the dogs would have a lot of love and attention and always have a friend. Or they picked people that worked from home so that the dogs would not be locked in a crate for 8 – 10 hours a day while the people were at work. You can debate if this is fair or not. I don’t care what you decide. Those of us that looked at those tiny, terrified faces every day….knew we had to make sure their future homes were the best that we could possibly ever find. It wasn’t first come, first serve. It was BEST application. BEST people.

And I am proud to say that the staff and volunteers of Pets Alive did right by every single one of those beagles. As I have been meeting the families, I’m moved and touched. Every one of them calmly talks to the dogs, and stretches out a hand. I watch as they sometimes get choked up, imaging what their life has been, or forget that I am standing there as they wrap the dog into their arms, sit on the floor and whisper to them. What they whisper, I am not privy to, but I’m certain that the dog understands. Is comforted. Every one of them relaxes in their arms and often half closes their eyes.

It is truly a gift to be able to see this. To do this.
I don’t know what I would do with my life if not for this. What would make me feel whole.
This job, these people I work with, these volunteers that stand beside us, these people that donate their very hard earned money to make a difference – are there any better people in the world than those which have surrounded me and us on this mission?

As of this writing, on Friday, July 16th, all but 15 of the beagles have been placed, and that includes those from the rescues that stepped up to take some into their facility. Of that 15 we probably have enough good applications to place them this week. It has been quite a whirlwind of madness here at Pets Alive with Monhagen Animal Hospital working triple time to get all the altering done in absolute RECORD time so these sweet dogs wouldn’t have to spend even another minute without a home. Everyone who has adopted them has had the same thing to say – they are almost completely house trained within the first few days (if they even EVER have an accident) and they get along with EVERYONE – adults, dogs, kids, cats. They are really an amazing group of dogs.

We were deeply moved by the community who stepped up and filled out hundreds of applications to welcome these sweet dogs into their homes. The volunteers that come every day to help in whatever capacity was needed, and the staff who put themselves out there working 12-14 hours a day after punching OUT and then giving us the rest of the time as volunteers, and the people who donated to either name a beagle or just to write us kind words and say “thanks for doing this, thanks for being there”. It moved us many, many times over the past two weeks. We were also touched by Best Friends who sent people here to help and find out what we needed, and covered all expenses for the dogs vetting, even after it was discovered that most needed dentals in addition to altering, generating quite a vet bill that they covered in addition to everything else they were covering. Their blog coverage of the rescue was also wonderful and can be found here.

Dogs that were at first afraid to put their feet on grass, tentative to meet each other, who stared vacantly at toys – are now racing around, running with big grins on their face, chasing balls and some have even started to bay like beagles. It is truly awe inspiring to have been a part of something like this and to watch them “awaken” into being true dogs for the first time.

I am very lucky.
Lucky to be able to have this in my life.
Lucky to be able to share it with all of you.
Lucky to know all of you.
Thank you for this gift.
Thank you for caring.

There is an award that Pets Alive gives out every year. It is called the “Starfish Award”. It is based on that old tale about a man walking along the beach and as he walks, he picks up stranded starfish and throws them back into the ocean. Someone walks by him and scoffs at him, making fun, and asks why is he doing that – he can’t POSSIBLY save them all and so it doesn’t matter. And the man replies that “It mattered to THAT one” as he throws another back into the ocean.

You all deserve a Starfish Award.
Thank you for caring about that “one”.
Without you, we could never help any of them.

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Shortly after the Beagles arrived here I surfed the highways and byways of the Internet and found some blogs where we were being discussed. Pets Alive has enemies and detractors online who seek to tear us down. They also seek to harm me as well. Shrug. Whatever. We all know what PA does and that while I can be a jerk I do the best I can and let my moral compass lead me. That’s really all anyone can ask of me or anyone else.

There’s one blog in particular (I absolutely won’t mention the name because then all of you will go look and give the site traffic, which I don’t want to happen) that despises me and Pets Alive, and therefore you too because you ARE Pets Alive. They accused us (as they always do) of “using” the Beagles to get donations. Sigh. I’m so tired of hearing this. Yes, we got donations. But that’s not why we did this. Duh. We did this to save the animals. That kind of prattle I’m used to.

Where I was a little more surprised was that people, on animal-related blogs, were actually defending the animal testing companies. Here’s some of what was said:

Will you be prosecuting the lab owners for animal cruelty…as you wold if this were a “regular” rescues.. how do you know some of these animals “never felt a human touch” .. or “never walked on grass”..’ nor “seen the sun”.. these are emotional pleas that we see everyday from HSUS as they conspire to remove animals from our possession and ownership.. every rescue is the “worst we have ever seen”.. and “horrendous”.. while I have no doubts that these dogs needed new homes.. your pleas ring false when some of us who have been following “rescues” for some time see the same thing over and over again… and really “stuff’ injected into them?? not very scientific….they could have had water injected.. you and I are not sure .. so why mention it.. we all know why..I think people would be more sympathize ( those of us who know what is happening) if your please were more honest.. instead of the same verbiage every time a dog is “rescued”

Again will these people be prosecuted/// will Pets Alive bring charges?? Will you have proof of your claims of no sun, never a human hand.. etc..and does that constitute actual cruelty?

I was flabbergasted. ACTUAL CRUELTY? Uh…keeping them insolated in cages 24/7, injecting them with foreign substances, only touching them with Tyvek suits on. ACTUAL CRUELTY? Are you freaking insane? I think so. And they want ME to prove what I am saying. I was absolutely amazed. But wait…it gets worse:

castrating healthy normal dogs is OK.. but other forms of “abuse” are not??.. many times I have injected water into my own dogs.. to hydrate them.

Yowza. Lucky dogs. I just give them water using the tongue/bowl method. CASTRATING? Wow. These people are nuts. But here’s where I think the train went FLYING off the tracks:

Your theories about “substitution” for animal testing don’t hold water Matt. But at least it give us an idea about where you are coming form as far as animal RIGHTS are concerned..There is plenty of “info” all right… none of it scientific.. plenty from PETA though..

I bolded those words because they’re going to become very important in a few paragraphs.

many of us a happy to see the dogs in new homes.. it is how they get there that is disturbing.. your comments and accusations about abuse,, no sun.. no grass.. etc.. all lead to people thinking that ALL labs are like this.. and I can see by your personal comment that you believe this to be true..however many of us support animal research as we all know it SAVES LIVES.. and not only human ones.but animal lives too.

Yep, this person touches on the two main arguments used by people who are pro-animal testing:

1. Animal research saves lives.
2. There are no real substitutions for testing on animals.

The third reason usually given is that no unnecessary suffering occurs. I reject that one out of hand. Treating these animals the way they were treated by this lab causes them suffering. End of conversation. (By the way, that data is from a research survey. You can find it here.

The next trick is that this particular person pointed everyone to a list of Frequently Asked Questions on animal testing myths. Right at the top it says Last updated 15 October 2000. Ten year old data. Yeah, perfect.

There are people who are animal people who reluctantly agree with the two assertions above. Animals can be tortured and disposed of because animal research saves lives and it’s the only way to do things.

Both assertions are false.

What if I told you that a group of 10 well-known doctors and researchers in the UK did a systematic review of animal studies of drugs vs. clinical trials (tests on people) of the same drugs and came up with a 50% correlation between the two studies? That means that only 50% of the time the studies came to the same conclusion. That may seem high, but think about it. If you flip a coin and yell “tails” there is a 50% chance you will be right. And no animals will be harmed or killed.

Yeah, but these are quacks and this is a study that has been discredited, right? Let me guess…they picked the studies that supported their hypothesis, right?

Wrong. These are respected researchers and physicians. Their findings were published in the British Medical Journal, the UK version of the Journal of the American Medical Association. In fact, if you peruse the footnotes (I did), you will find references to JAMA, the most respected medical journal in the world. That also means the findings had to be reviewed by other physicians.

It is a very interesting article. Kinda tough for a layman to read, but interesting. If you want to plod through it it’s here.

Let me hit the high notes for you:

1. A team of ten researchers concentrated on studies where there was unambiguous evidence of a treatment effect (benefit or harm) in clinical trials: head injury, hemorrhage, stroke (two different types), neonatal respiratory distress syndrome, and osteoporosis.

2. They then pulled every animal study they could find in each category and carried out a systematic review of the corresponding animal experiments. They carried out their systematic reviews in accordance with the recommended methods for health technology assessment.

3. Below are the outcomes. I list the results of the clinical trials on humans, the results of the animal testing, and the results of me flipping a coin, heads for benefit, tails for no benefit:

So in this case flipping a coin would give better results matched against the human testing then animal testing did. And that’s exactly what Dr. Marius Maxwell, MD, PhD, Oxford, Cambridge, Harvard said in the Guardian Newspaper in the UK:

An article published in December in the British Medical Journal (the latest in a long series of similar skeptical studies) suggests that using animal-based drug testing to predict human outcomes is no more accurate than tossing a coin. The study found that only half of the categories examined actually succeeded in predicting the results of subsequent human trials, and even then, “the quality of the experiments was poor”.

I had the honor of speaking with Dr. Maxwell today. He is a successful Neurosurgeon who makes his home in Switzerland while practicing in the US. To my delight Dr. Maxwell is also a Pit Bull afficionado, something we share.

There’s really no disputing these facts. If you pick drug studies at random (there were many, many studies picked for this paper), only about half of them work against clinical studies.

So that blows our #1 assertion above out of the water, and not with anecdotal data. With solid facts from a solid study. You can read it for yourself. If the studies don’t reliably correlate to human studies then there’s no way to reliably save lives using animal testing. Dr. Maxwell has been waiting for a scientific refutation of the paper that was published in the UK, but one has not been forthcoming.

So what about the second assertion, that there’s no other way but animal testing? Dr. Maxwell was kind enough to include another document for me to read.

It was published by the Dr. Hadwen Trust for Humane Research and the Humane Society International.

Absolutely fascinating. You can read it for yourself here. It’s called Opportunities for the Replacement of Animal Experiments.

Here…this is on the first page. Let this sink in for a second:

Medical research and safety testing are responsible for the suffering and death of more than 115 million sentient animals globally each year.

Sentient. Remember that word? Sentience is the ability to feel or perceive. You know, #3 that we discounted right off the bat? There’s no unnecessary suffering. UNNECESSARY SUFFERING. Does that mean that some suffering is necessary? If you are sentient you suffer. Guess that’s necessary. Sigh.

So let’s move on to there are no alternatives. Here are some:

• Gene-hunting tools to find and understand the role of disease-causing genes in people
• Cell and molecular tests for the safety of chemicals
• Biosensors that synergise cell research with microelectronics, to study drug metabolism, toxicity and disease biomarkers
• Ultra-sensitive analytical techniques allow safe, ethical, microdose studies of drugs and chemicals without
  animal tests, and can enhance safety in the workplace
• Advanced microscopic techniques for imaging and analysing cell functions in health and disease
• High-powered computer models that realistically simulate the human body, and its reactions to medicines and chemicals
• Tissue engineering that re-creates three-dimensional human tissues in the test-tube, for disease research, drug development and safety testing
• High-technology, safe imaging of the human brain to understand neurological disorders and drug effects on the brain
• Molecular methods to study disease using human cells in the test-tube.

Check these out. They are some of the in vitro (cell culturing) alternatives to animal testing that are REAL and available either now or soon:

• ACuteTox – an in vitro test strategy for predicting human acute toxicity
• BioSim – using modern simulation techniques to create a more rational drug development process and a reduction in animal experiments.
• carcinoGENOMICS – to develop in vitro methods for assessing the carcinogenic potential of substances.
• Sens-it-iv – to develop test-tube alternatives to animal tests for assessing chemicals that may cause
  skin or lung allergies.
• ReProTect – to explore the field of reproductive toxicology in order to reduce the number of animals used.
• PREDICTOMICS – short-term test-tube assays to predict long-term toxicity.
• liintop – optimisation of liver and intestine cell studies for pharmacokinetics and pharmacodynamics studies.
• TOXDROP – highly parallel cell cultures in nanodrops, a new format for cellbased toxicity assays to replace mice.
• Biosensors Based on Molecular Organization – development and validation of alternative techniques to replace animal testing in drug screening and environmental control protocols.
• VITROCELLOMICS – reducing animal testing of drugs by use of human cells.
• INVITROHEART – reducing animal experimentation in drug testing by using human cells.
• Comics – will provide in vitro assays for screening chemicals for genetic toxicity and so help limit animal testing.

So, Matt…
WHAT CAN I DO?

Well, I’m glad you asked. Here you go….

1. Refute the crap that’s out there with these facts. For example, in 2000 (the year that FAQ was published that I mention above) there were not the same sophisticated computer models, simply because the computers weren’t as powerful. According to Moore’s Law, computing capacity doubles roughly every 18 months. The fastest computer in 2000 operated at 64 GFLOPS, where today’s operates at 4640 GFLOPS. (Giga Floating Point Operations per Second). That means more programs and models can be created.

2. Don’t let people get away with saying there are no alternatives. Read up on it and spread the word.

3. Explain to people that animal testing is inaccurate and unncessary. Arm yourself with the facts.

4. Seek out and avoid companies that still test on animals and tell them why. There is a great list here at Caring Consumer. You will be surprised at who is on here.

5. SPREAD THE WORD. Go to the SHARE area below and send this to someone. Now. Put it on Facebook. Tweet it. Stumbleupon it. Post it somewhere. LET PEOPLE KNOW THEY’RE GETTING FED BS.

6. Learn. Here are some resources:
New England Anti-Vivisection Society (NEAVS)
Voice for Ethical Research at Oxford (some great articles here)

Thanks to Dr. Maxwell for taking the time to enlighten me. He’s awesome.

Remember….now that you know you speak for 115 million souls a year, and as we say…

YOU ARE ALL THEY HAVE.

Matt

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Unlike certain people and Presidents, I do not apologize for being American. This is the day I celebrate with my friends and family the fact that this is the greatest country ever created. On July 2, 1776 (yes, it wasn’t actually July 4) the Second Continental Congress approved a resolution of independence from the Kingdom of Great Britain. On July 4 they approved the formal Declaration we all know.

This was the document marking the birth of this nation. My den has many pictures and photos on the wall, but the one that hangs over the desk where I work and write and think has a large painting of George Washington addressing that Congress so that I always remember the toil and sacrifice those great men made so that we can enjoy the freedoms we have today.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

Those words have been called the most potent and consequential words in American History.

Freedom. Freedom is the ability to make choices without constraint.

Liberty. Liberty is the right to behave according to one’s own personal responsibility and free will.

Have you ever considered that the root word of liberate is liberty? A few weeks ago we got a call from our friends at Best Friends. They had been contacted by Win Animal Rights (WAR), a New York City based organization that had gotten wind of an animal testing lab in New Jersey that had gone bankrupt. There were 120 Beagles and 55 monkeys that had been left there to die.

66,000 dogs and 26,000 cats were used in labs in 2005. While some of the animals are purpose bred (like our beagles), meaning that they are born to be experimented on and then disposed of, but most are supplied by so-called Class B dealers who buy them from auctions, shelters and newspaper ads and send them to the labs.

So our beagles were born with neither freedom nor liberty, while most lab animals have both their freedom and liberty taken away.

Are animals entitled to liberty? That’s a debate for another time. I believe they are within the context of our stewardship of them. In researching this blog I came across a succinct argument that sums it up:

Any animal that has the capacity for suffering pain has a right not to be tortured; and the reason for this is connected with the fact that suffering pain is intrinsically bad. Similarly, if we grant to men a right to liberty simply because we regard liberty as something good in itself which men are capable of enjoying, then we must also grant a right to liberty to any other animal that is capable of desiring to act one way rather than another.

Lab animals suffer. They are in steel cages most of their lives without contact with other animals and with people who treat them as objects rather then sentient beings. They are called companion animals for a reason. They are meant to be our companions and we have a moral responsibility to care for them.

Kerry was very excited as our caravan of four white vans headed toward the lab in New Jersey where we would pick up our beagles. “These are animals that were bred to be experimented on and thrown away. They were never meant to have homes, never meant to be loved, never meant to have lives. And now they will.”

I thought about that a lot yesterday and repeated it to the press many times. It is the essence of why we exist as a humane organization.

When we pulled up to the lab I was surprised at how nondescript it was. It looked like a house with some outbuildings, even though if you looked closely there was security fence around the entire property and none of the buildings had any windows. Great way to live.

They wouldn’t let us all on the property and they wouldn’t let more than one van in at at time. Kerry and I went in first.

We were greeted by four guys, two in Tyvek suits with earplugs in their ears. We would not be allowed in the area where the dogs lived, but they would be brought out one at a time and placed in the van. Standing around talking to these guys I was struck by the contradiction of their affection for the animals and their enabling their suffering. One of them actually decided to adopt one of the animals in their “care.” They asked us to be sure to keep the air conditioner on for the dogs and to take good care of them.

When we stopped for gas just before we got there we ran into a former employee of the lab who told us that they were going to start performing “electrical testing” on the dogs just before they closed, and I wondered how the guys in the Tyvek suits could possibly live with themselves for allowing that to happen.

The first Beagle came out. There was a number on her crate but no name. These dogs are nameless. She was so small. She was absolutely beautiful. And gentle. And terrified. How much had she endured? What had been done to her? What was her life like? The thought of her being experimented on cast a dark shadow across my soul that left me with a combination of despair and profound anger.

We needed more crates, so it was decided that Molly, the photographer from Best Friends and I would drive back with the first vanload of Beagles and get things ready for the rest. As we were leaving Molly thought we could fit one more if she rode in her lap. I thought this was a great idea. Molly walked back up the driveway and returned with another sweet little Beagle.

We named her Liberty. She had never seen a van before. Never been in motion (she vomited violently). Never been in someone’s lap. She was scared for the first half hour and didn’t really do much as we rode through the back roads of New Jersey. We got a peek into her sweet, gentle nature though. One of the sickest dogs was in the crate closest to our seats. Every time he would stir she would look at him and wag her tail. It was really heartwarming.

When she got comfortable, she was interested in everything. She poked her nose against the window. She climbed on to the center console. She tried to jump over into my lap. She licked Molly’s hand. She swatted at Molly’s camera. And every now and then I would reach over and gently rub the side of her face. She leaned into my hand and closed her eyes. I’ve always thought dogs know when they’re safe, and while their lives had suddenly expanded so far beyond the sterile metal cubbyholes they lived in alone, they all knew they were finally free.

Freedom. It’s truly relative, isn’t it? In China today you can’t even surf the Internet without being censored. In North Korea three generations of your family can go to the slave labor camp if you say something negative about Kim Jong Il. And freedom for Liberty can mean something as simple as feeling the warmth of the sun on her face.

We saw the American flags and the bunting as we pulled into Pets Alive, and we were swallowed up in a sea of Pets Alive t-shirts and cooing voices and loving arms for each of these sweet animals, and it really touched me. I went up into my office to be alone for a few minutes and returned to the pasture that the dogs would call home.

I have to tell you that being at Pets Alive has brought me pain that is so deep and so profound that it is debilitating. But it also brings joy that is absolutely indescribable. As I walked down the driveway across the street from my office I felt that deep, uplifting, amazing joy that is almost overpowering. It was amazing. There was a line of people curled around the table where Janet and Jen were examining each dog. Every person had a beagle in their arms. They were being cradled gently and lovingly. Every single dog was being hugged by someone in a Pets Alive T-shirt. Some were scared, leaning against their person, trying to bury their little heads in their shirt. Some were thrilled to be held, little eyes darting back and forth trying to drink it all in.

What brought me such joy were their tails. Every single one was wagging. Some were thumping gently against their person’s stomach. Some were whipping wildly back and forth. But every single dog was happy. They may never have gotten this much love, but they knew how wonderful it was right from the beginning. And that’s freedom for them as far as I’m concerned.

It was difficult for me to not get choked up walking through their living areas. The tail wagging continued unabated. It was absolutely amazing. As we started pairing them up (same sex because they’re not altered) I could see them sniffing each other tentatively. In minutes they were chasing each other around the kennels. I saw one tackle another and start playing. I could hear little Anna squealing as two of them chased her while the two in the next kennel stuck their noses through the fencing to play with the bottom of her clothes.

But what touched me the most profoundly was Liberty. She was sprawled out in the middle of her kennel in a patch of sunlight that was shining in to her area. Her mouth was open and she had a face of contentment and happiness. Her kennelmate was inches away from her enjoying the sunlight as well. She was four years old and had never seen the sun, or felt the grass, or ever seen another animal let alone lie next to one.

Our eyes locked and her tail started wagging. She has her freedom from pain and captivity and anonimity. And she has liberty, even if that just means she can lie in the sun when she wants to.

I watched a beagle walk tentatively on the grass for the first time and felt the same joy in my heart. Later I took one of them out of her crate and stood in line with her. She was wet from her own vomit and obviously scared. I had to coax her out of the crate because she was afraid to put her paws down on the grass. But the whole time that tail wagged and she looked at me with love in her eyes.

I placed her gently with another dog and watched her freeze on the grass, sniff it a few times and take her first tentative steps toward the other dog. They sniffed, tails wagged and they were pals. Just like that. Another dog free.

This morning when I opened my eyes to Roscoe and Tyson running at full speed across my bedroom floor, one of my socks dangling from Roscoe’s mouth I thought of these little dogs who had been bred to be experimented on and then thrown away like sponges or test tubes. In my mind’s eye I saw Liberty running across the room with one of my socks in her mouth and I laughed out loud.

Freedom and Liberty are something we are born with. Something we celebrate on this Independence Day, with fireworks and barbeques and Nathan’s Hot Dog eating contest. But let’s also take a moment to celebrate the lives of these animals that we have had the honor to liberate this weekend, and pause to mourn the lives of those we haven’t.

Thank you to Best Friends Animal Society for being our best friends, thanks to Camille and W.A.R. for caring about these sweet animals, thanks to Anthony and our friends at Enterprise for scaring up four vans and charging us next to nothing for them. Thanks to our friends in the media for coming out to record this event. Thanks to our wonderful volunteers and supporters who showed up in droves to shower these sweet gentle animals with love. And thanks to all of you who support us for giving Kerry and I the honor of doing what we do.

God Bless America.

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If Oreo’s Law is defeated, thousands upon thousands of cats, kittens, dogs, puppies, rabbits, and other animals will continue to be needlessly killed in NYS shelters every year—animals Oreo’s Law has the power to save.

A statewide survey of NYS rescue groups found that over 70% were being turned away because the shelters were hostile to rescue groups, and then those shelters turned around and killed the very animals the rescuers were willing to save. Shelter directors across New York State are arbitrarily turning away qualified rescue groups because they are hostile to rescue and arbitrarily refuse to work with them. We have experienced this time and time again, right here in Orange County, in our own backyard. Time and again we offer to take in animals that other local shelters are about to kill and they turn us away and laugh about it. THIS HAS TO STOP!

WE HAVE MADE IT EASY FOR YOU TO EMAIL ALL THE AG MEMBERS WITH ONE CLICK! Just click this link: http://www.petsalive.com/email/
and it will do everything FOR you.

Why should animals across New York State be killed even though rescue groups have offered to save these animals? Today, those animals are ending up in landfills, when they should be going to rescue groups where they will be cared for at no cost to taxpayers until a permanent and loving home can be found. Oreo’s Law would give NYS shelter animals that future. The law would make it illegal for a shelter to kill an animal if a qualified rescue group is willing to save that animal’s life. Oreo’s Law was written with the assistance of the nation’s top animal lawyers, the nation’s most successful former and current shelter directors, and those who have actually created successful No Kill communities (which neither the ASPCA nor Mayor’s Alliance, Oreo’s Law chief opponents, have been able to do despite hundreds of millions of dollars in combined annual revenues).

So the animals need you. They need the voice of the people, every day animal lovers, and rescuers to speak for them. They need you to call committee members and urge them to vote "Yes." Because they don’t have anyone else and only an overwhelming show of support can save Oreo’s Law from defeat and the animals from certain death.

Tragically, right doesn’t always defeat might. Sometimes the animals don’t win. Sometimes they continue to get killed despite a readily available lifesaving and rescue alternative. Sometimes a feral kitten who a rescue group is willing to socialize and place in a loving home will instead get injected with poison from a bottle marked “fatal plus” and then dumped in a landfill. Sometimes a puppy who can go to rescue and be guaranteed a home will be killed instead. Sometimes a person who kills an abused dog a rescue group was willing to save gets away with murder. For their sake, please do not let this be one of those times. This may be the best chance we have as a generation to make a PURPOSEFUL POSITIVE impact for animals! We can change the world here folks – please. Help. This is critical. Time is of the essence. Don’t think about it – take a few moments to send an email or make a call.

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It’s a tough life for many West Virginians as well.  They toil in coal mines for 12 hours at a time, sometimes stooped over in tunnels as short as four feet high, breathing in coal dust and the dampness of the mines.  Ottawa, West Virginia is about 45 minutes from Charleston along a windy road that goes pretty much through nothing.

I know what coal smells like, and as the rain poured down on Sunday I drove the Pets Alive van down Route 119 from Charleston to Logan and I could smell the coal in the air.  The coal mine on the side of Route 119 changed my concept of big.  It was enormous, with coal silos and conveyor belts and hundreds of lights.  That’s the part that is ABOVE the ground.  The action as we know is below.

By now you know why we drove 12 hours from Pets Alive to get to the small town of Ottawa, WV.  We received an email post on one of the many lists we receive about a shelter called SHARE that was closing.

SHARE will be closing for good!

Due to lack of volunteers, funding and the massive number of abandoned animals in the Boone, Logan area SHARE is forced to find homes for the 113 dogs and 22 cats we now have and close the rescue. I am extremely disappointed and upset over the attitude of people in this area and their lack of support. I realize that money is not in abundance and times are tight right now but that does not excuse the lack of interest in the dogs and cats that will now be left for the county pound to pick up and “kill” due to lack of interest on the part of people in Boone and Logan county.

Money does play a key role and I understand in this area things are slow but there were so many other ways in which people could have helped. Putting out donation jars and boxes at local merchants, contacting rescues online to find homes for the dogs and cats, contacting manufacturers for product donations or sponsorships by mail or online…..etc. The list goes on and on. Money donations are only part of the rescue operation. People spend at least 3 or 4 hours a day watching tv, why not come to the shelter and walk a dog that has never known any human compassion, feed the cats, take that black stupid box time and do some good for creatures that are less fortunate. There were so many ways without spending money people could have made this rescue a success and given the homeless, abandoned, abused, stray animals in these counties a temporary home until I could have found them a permanent loving home. Unfortunately that will not happen now and the strays will be back out there wandering the streets, scrounging for food and being poisioned, shot at and mistreated for lack of a “Safe Haven”.

Reports about the shelter trickled in.  When I finally got there I realized that words in West Virginia have different meanings than many of the words here…Home can mean a trailer, or a lean-to or sometimes even an RV that never moves, shelter can mean a donated building that has no heat and barely has running water.  Euthanize usually means a horrible death, often through suffocation in a gas chamber or in more gruesome ways like a bullet through the head.

Let me stop here and tell you a bit about the people in West Virginia.  I know, I know…we elitist Yankees picture tooth-challenged men in dirty jackets and hats like Jed Clampett shooting rifles at squirrels, but truth be told the people of West Virginia are like most people in the South…friendly but not overly so, and really good at spotting Yankees.  John Heads and I walked into Shoney’s one morning and it was like a scene from a movie…as we walk through the door there’s a low buzz of conversation that stops dead.  All heads swivel toward us and drink it all in.  I keep walking and nod to the local people, saying Good Morning and receiving murmurs and smiles in return.

We are seated and we order, and the smiling waitress says “Y’all gonna have gree-its with that Hon?”  And I notice them all looking at me again.  I smile.  Of course I am.  While I actually LOVE grits and southern biscuits I am afraid of the consequences of saying no.

Janet and I were in Wal*Mart picking up Tamaflu for the sick puppies.  The pharmacist and his assistants were fascinated by us and the lengths we were going to to take care of the animals.  “Y’all came all the way down here from NEW York just to help our animals?  That’s real nice.  Thank you.”  We were touched very much by that.  OUR animals.  There’s no question that the people there love their animals and consider them theirs.  They were also greatly appreciative of our being there.  We stayed at the Best Western Logan Inn, which was terrific.  As we were checking out the manager ran up to us to introduce himself and thanked us for what we were doing.  He then slipped two twenties into Janet’s hand and explained that he would be honored to buy us lunch that day.

I think the disconnect is in understanding the responsibility of caring for animals.  Understanding that if you have six Beagles and you take them hunting and only one finds the prey you don’t tie the other five to trees and walk away.  Spay and neuter are unheard of because these people can’t afford to eat sometimes, let alone spend a hundred bucks getting their animals fixed.

We have a baseline of care when it comes to animals.  In fact, we have a baseline when it comes to life.  It is vastly different in West Virginia.  People shoot their dogs.  They think nothing of tying them outside or not feeding them or bringing them to shelters where the average kill rate is between 90 and 95 percent.  Dogs have a better chance of living as strays then they do at the shelters, so people simply abandon them rather then bringing them in.

When you drive around New York, even in Orange or the surrounding counties we look around and call it “rural.”  Not a chance.  Where satellite dishes sprout from houses in New York outhouses sprout from houses where we were, and car years and models that I thought were gone forever are all over the place there.

As an aside, West Virginia also seems to be the place that old chain restaurants go to die.  Remember Bob Evans?  Hardees?  They’re all there.  We are all still really upset we never got to visit Biscuit World though, because a world filled with biscuits is the only kind of world I ever want to inhabit.

They do “value” their animals.  It’s just a lesser value.  It’s easy to throw around the concept of value when you live in a decent house, drive a late model car and have a stable job that doesn’t involve digging rocks underground on your back.  I’m certainly not condoning or defending the mistreatment of animals.  I’m not even defending or condoning not spoiling your animals.  I’m just saying that the culture is far different.

Let me try to paint a picture.  SHARE is an organization that covers two of the poorest counties in West Virginia.  Boone county has 22% of its population below the poverty line, and Logan county 24%.  Both are double the national average and double that of Orange County, NY, which is around that average at 10.5%.

There are county shelters in Boone and Logan counties.  Both have kill rates above 90%.  One county gasses animals, and one performs heartstick lethal injections, which is about as humane as you’re going to get in this area.  One county has no Humane Law Enforcement, and the other has only a few overworked and underfunded officers.  SHARE is in the middle.

Many people and organizations responded to Trish Bragg’s call for help, including Best Friends and Pets Alive.  Two PA volunteers that are also involved with Best Friends drove to Ottawa packed with provisions and supplies from Pets Alive.  By anyone’s standards, the story that emerged and the pictures that were sent were horrific.

There were starving dogs covered with mange and animals living outside in the cold.  Becky and Kim were very concerned about Goldie, a dog that was horribly emaciated, and called me at home late one night, begging Pets Alive to take her.  We did of course.

We were horrified by the pictures and the firsthand accounts of things at this building out in the middle of nowhere without running water, no telephone, not enough food, and  too many animals.

It started a debate at Pets Alive and with our partners like Best Friends, and we eventually sought advice from organizations and people in West Virginia.  Is Trish Bragg a hoarder and should she be encouraged to stop?

Looking at the definition of hoarding, it seemed to me that she could fit that definition:

Animal hoarding is defined as failure to provide minimal standards of care for animals; lack of insight about that failure; denial of the consequences of that failure; coupled with obsessive attempts to maintain and even increase the number of animals in the face of these failures and deteriorating conditions.

I spoke at length with caseworkers at Best Friends who told me that there’s a fine line between hoarding and just simply being overwhelmed, and they spend an inordinate amount of time helping people maintain that line while saving as many animals as possible.

I also spoke and corresponded with people in West Virginia who were familiar with Trish, either directly or indirectly, and she had tangled with many rescues and law enforcement officers and agencies there.  The jury was evenly divided between the animals in that poor, rural area of West Virginia have no one else and she needs to be shut down.

So all of us agreed that I would go down there with Janet and some volunteers, assess the animals and Trish, and decide which of the two perspectives was correct.  Regardless, Trish had clearly gotten in over her head and the animals were suffering because of it, which was the immediate problem that we would remedy.

John and I had to run to Charleston to get the truck we rented to get the animals back to Pets Alive.  I was sitting next to a chunky, furry cat when I was filling out the papers.  The owner explained that someone had dumped her in a dumpster on the property.  Sigh.  So much for valuing animals.

I really didn’t know what to expect as we got closer to SHARE’s shack.  We got lost and since it’s difficult to turn a 16 foot truck around on a road that barely accommodates a single car, and since cell phone service is nonexistent where we were, I sent John ahead in his van to scout for the road while I tried to reach the rest of the team on the walkie-talkies we had brought.  I raised Carmine on the walkie and eventually Patti Perfetti, our famous former adoption co-ordinator came trotting down the road to guide me to the building.  Patti lives about two hours away from the shelter and came down to help.  It was really terrific to see her.

She hopped up into the cab.  “How’s it going?”  I asked her.  She sighed.  “It’s pretty bad.  Before we get there, Matt I need to tell you that you can’t shut her down.  These animals have no other place to go.”  There it was — both sides of the argument.  Could we make it better rather than destroying the only chance these animals have to live?

It’s difficult to describe what I felt when I drove up to the end of the narrow, rutted dirt road.  So narrow in fact that I pulled the mirrors in so they wouldn’t scrape against trees.  When I got to the building at the end of the road my first impression was of a dumpster overflowing with garbage bags that cascaded down onto the ground.  I parked the truck to the side of the building and tried to make sure at least two of the wheels didn’t sink into the mud.  It was raining.

When I stepped out of the truck I was hit by a stench that is still on the clothes I stripped out of in my garage when I got home.  Fetid, a mixture of animal feces, sewage, rot and dankness, it permeated everything.  I was met by Janet and Becky, dressed in disposable gowns and wearing gloves.  This wasn’t good.  Janet had examined some puppies and tested them for Parvo.  It was a raging positive.  Parvo is a virus that is amazingly resilient.  It can live on the ground or in a building for months, waiting to infect another animal.  It is relatively harmless to healthy, vaccinated animals but deadly to young animals, unvaccinated animals and those with weakened immune systems.  The immediate problem was that all of the puppies (a dozen or so) lived in the same kennel, and they bumped noses regularly with the dogs next door.

We immediately removed those dogs from the next kennel over and isolated them.  We scrubbed the kennel to within an inch of its life with a bleach solution.  For all its resilience bleach kills Parvovirus dead immediately.  Janet set up quarantine procedures for the puppies, including a bleach bath outside their run and an off-limits policy.  She then began giving the puppies IV fluids and caring for the worst of them, who died shortly after.  She was worried about four other puppies and told me that we needed to get Tamaflu for them immediately or they were in danger of dying.

I had barely a chance to meet the dogs or the people and I needed to get moving to get the medicine.  I asked Trish to call her vet, have him call in a prescription to the nearest pharmacy and we would go get it together.

I had a few hours to size up Trish and make a decision on what was in the best interest for the animals.  Trish, in a lot of ways reminded me of Sara Whalen, which is both positive and negative.  I bounced back and forth between hoarder and well-intentioned amateur in over her head.

I have come to the conclusion that she is a well-intentioned amateur who got in over her head.  I think she has hoarding tendencies, but overall I think her biggest mistake was taking in too many animals without a support infrastructure to fall back on.  That is, of course, my opinion and my judgment, which could very well be wrong.  Kerry and I actually had a rare difference of opinion on this, as Kerry was leaning much more toward hoarder, but deferred to me because I was the one on the ground in West Virginia.

Trish told me that she was reviled by the establishment in both counties for trying to take in dogs.  She was visited by HSUS, Peta, the state authorities and even the local sheriff.  In all cases they came there with one impression and left with another.  The worse she was accused of (this was within the recent ninety days) was overcrowding.  Sigh.  So why didn’t someone DO what we were doing?  Why did they just take a look around, determine that she was struggling and then not offer any solution or advice or anything other than a wave goodbye?

None of the local vets would help her, making her pay full price for spay/neuter, medicine and office visits.  She finally found one an hour and a half away who works with her.  And she has absolutely no concept of how to run a shelter.  There are no records.  Animals are medicated but not correctly.  She gives the mangy dogs ivermectin but not enough (I suspect that this is because she tries to stretch the medicine).  They will eventually get better, but it will take longer.

Are the animals safe in her care?  Sigh.  I wasn’t happy with dogs living outside all the time in the winter.  I didn’t like that some dogs were in crates most of the day.  I was appalled that they weren’t eating every day at the worst of this.  But all those things point back to overcrowding.  The conclusion I came to after spending time with Trish and seeing the operation is that she needs guidance and help.  She sees herself as a waypoint for these animals.  She wants to get them out of West Virginia and to places where they have a chance.  I am convinced she was sincere about this and that is a very anti-hoarder sentiment.

Trish trusts no one, including me.  As a result it’s difficult to tell truth from fiction, but I think I got the gist of the truth.  I spoke with many people about her, including some of her neighbors and a lot of locals who pretty much agree with my assessment.

One of the reasons we were there was because of Goldie.  Goldie is a golden retriever mix who was emaciated and starving.  She’s doing better at Pets Alive but should never have been in that condition.  I asked Trish point blank about Goldie.  She said that Goldie had actually been in WORSE shape at the county shelter where they were about to euthanize her and Trish just couldn’t let them do it.  Goldie had been to the vet twice and while she had put on weight she couldn’t seem to get more weight on her no matter what Trish did.

While the rest of the dogs were thin, they clearly weren’t starving, so I was inclined to think that there was an element of truth to what she said.

We stopped at Subway and picked up lunch for everyone and headed back with the little bit of Tamaflu we could scrape up at two different pharmacies.

Everyone was lingering around the back of the Pets Alive van munching on their sandwiches.  Slowly they all drifted away and I was the only one still there, chewing absentmindedly and churning away about how to handle all this.  I went to close the doors of the van and there she was.

Xena is a smallish brindle sweetheart with half a tail.  She, Dolly and a few of the other dogs were allowed to roam the property at SHARE.  That seems like a really bad idea and probably would be at Pets Alive, but you have to remember that we are in West Virginia at the end of a dead end street with no houses in the area.

She was looking at me with those eyes.  Friendly, trusting, sweet.  And that stubby tail was thumping into the muck.  It was love at first sight.  I stripped all of the meat out of half my sandwich and handed it to her.  She gobbled it up and the tail wagged.  And the eyes melted me.  And her sweetness was amazing.  I gave her the bread.  The veggies.  Everything.  And she devoured it.  I wondered if she had ever tasted human food.  She had now.  I gave her what was left of the half I was eating.  She took it all so gently.

She was my pal from then on.  When I left she ran toward me to say goodbye.  The next morning when I pulled up she came running out of nowhere wagging her tail and jumping on me to lick my face.  When I was there she was never far away from me.  No matter what you think of Trish, without her there was a greater than 90% chance that Xena would have been stuck in the heart with a needle or suffocated in the gas chamber, then buried in a hole.  That was reality for her and all of the other animals here.

Before I left for West Virginia I spoke with two people who were intimately involved with what was going on in West Virginia.  One was Mary, formerly with the Tomkins County shelter, and the other was Melinda, an activist with the Animal Support Project.  Both said that they were working with Trish to get her back on her feet and to understand her limitations, and to get some policies and procedures in place that would ensure that dogs pass through her facility on to rescuers in the northeast and mid-atlantic.

I am a huge cynic, but I listened to what they had to say and took it under advisement.  Seeing the alternatives and talking to Tracey when I was there really convinced me that Trish should be given another chance with support and supervision.

Tracey is an activist who lives in West Virginia.  She and her husband have spent tens of thousands of dollars of their own money to spay and neuter animals and get them to good homes outside of the state.  She works closely with The Animal Law Coalition, an organization here in New York headed by Laura Allen, the former corporate counsel of Best Friends.  I like Laura very much, as well as her husband Russ Meade, now of Farm Sanctuary.  As an aside, I need to mention that I think Laura and her group are way off on their opposition to Oreo’s Law but I trust their commitment to doing what is in the best interest of animals.

Tracey is a powerhouse.  She goes around from place to place in West Virginia and extols the virtues of No-Kill.  She rolls up her sleeves and gets her hands dirty, and isn’t afraid to play hard ball.  She is largely responsible for getting dogs out of SHARE and on to forever homes.

She has introduced the concept of intake to SHARE, updated the web site, and arranged regular pickups from other rescues for the dogs Trish takes in.  The problem, she said, was that she was having trouble getting the dogs to Hagerstown, Maryland, a few hours away.  Once they got there there was a solid network that could transport the animals to most of the northeast and mid-atlantic states.

As luck would have it two of the volunteers that had met us there were Frankie and her husband Ted.  They were a terrific help and offered to run stuff up to New York with us (they live in Virginia).  The main reason it was most fortuitous is that they are very involved with a network of people who transport dogs that way.  The two promised to get together and compare notes, and get a transport network together for these dogs.

The last thing I asked Tracey was whether she thought Trish was a hoarder or just in over her head.  She had been working with Trish for three weeks and helped get other rescues to take 70 of her dogs.  And she got them out and to their forever homes.  She said that Trish was happy to send them off, which is again very un-hoarderlike.  I told her Pets Alive would do anything we could to help and that I would hold her personally responsible for any animal that came into the shelter.  She was confident they would make it all work.  She’s a tough cookie and Trish is lucky to have her and all the other people and groups watching over her.

Xena and I spent some time together that afternoon, and we headed off to the hotel.  Patty stayed that night too with two dogs that came from a foster home that we didn’t want introduced into the shelter until we were sure everyone was okay.

The next morning was hectic.  Xena was running around the place, getting into stuff, sniffing all the other dogs as we loaded them into their crates in our rented box truck.  She was shuttled into the rapidly emptying runs in the building.  When we were about to leave it was time to get her.

For the first time since I arrived my footsteps echoed in the empty building.  Trish and volunteers were sweeping up the cedar shavings and throwing things away.  Xena knew something was up, and she was looking at me with curious eyes, her stubby tail wagging gently back and forth.

I opened the door and we walked out of the empty building together into the light.   Neighbors had come to the truck to see the dogs off.  People of all ages were walking through the truck saying goodbye, crying as they emerged from the back.

Xena and I went over to the passenger side of the truck where the door was already open and I told her to jump in.  She hesitated.  Trish came up behind us and said “Load up!”  Zena jumped into the seat that I had plied with blankets for her comfort.

We started off on our twelve hour drive, John’s van in front, Xena and I in the middle, and Janet driving the Pets Alive van behind us.  Xena was very nervous at first, drooling and shifting uncomfortably.  She eventually settled down.  My suitcase was propped up between us (there was nowhere else to put it), and my hand was resting on it like an armrest.

Xena got up on the seat, turned around a few times and settled back down, pressing the side of her face against my hand.  This reminded me of Roscoe, who does the same thing.  At that moment I missed my dogs very much.  She kept herself pressed against my hand.  I drove 700 miles with one hand.  As we turned the corner onto one of the back roads I saw a Jack Russell terrier dead on the side of the road, the fur on his little body matted from the rain of the previous day.  I thought of Kerry’s Ernie, the little dog that was found running down the middle of the road in Arkansas, and I wondered how close to dying this way he had come.  And I looked over at Xena, snuggled against my hand.  She was safe.  She wasn’t one of the 90% of dogs in local shelters awaiting their death, nor was she this poor Jack Russell who had been struck and left.  I hoped (and still hope) that I had done the right thing in trusting Trish to save more animals and keep things running right.

As we got on to route 118 and the cacaphony of barks emanated from the back of the truck, we all noticed two dogs sitting on the side of the road, watching us pass by.

We got back to Pets Alive at 1:30 AM that night, and a dozen people were there waiting for us.  They took all of the dogs off the truck and gently guided them to their temporary homes.  I was home about 4:00, and as I lie in bed, curled among four of my dogs, I thought about Xena and the West Virginia dogs, and I wondered about Trish.  I remembered what I said to her just before I left.

“I hope you’re sure about what you’re doing because if I have to come back down here Im gonna kick your ass.”

I’ve been sneaking Xena out of the back kennel every day for a short walk.  And I’m going back to West Virginia to meet with Tracey and some humane law enforcement agencies and some vets and some government officials to see what we can do together about promoting spay and neuter and keeping more dogs from ending up dead.

And in the meantime we’re going to do everything we can to keep these sweet beautiful dogs from ending up statistics.  Thanks to Janet, Carmine, John and Becky for doing this.  Thanks to YOU for making it possible financially and thank you for allowing me to have this job that both breaks my heart beyond repair and brings me more joy than I’ve ever felt.

There are dogs, like people, who you connect with instantly.  If I could have one more dog I’d take Xena in a heartbeat.

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I had tucked the rented van in behind a full-sized bus that was picking up crew members from American Airlines.  As Kerry and the pups passed by the crew members every single person craned their neck to get a glimpse of them.  I didn’t realize that where I had wedged the van to hide from the Port Authority Police “shoo away squad” blocked the driver from getting to the cargo doors for the bus.  He looked at me, looked at the crate, and waited patiently, without a sound.  When I picked up the crate off the cart and headed for the van he offered to help.  Nice guy.  It dawned on me later that he had purposely dragged his feet loading the bus so Kerry would have enough time to make the three trips to get the dogs.

While I was waiting for the next cartload, I examined our charges.  There were six in total, all from Yabucoa Beach in Puerto Rico.  Yabucoa Beach is nicknamed “Dead Dog Beach” because of the strays that roam the coast and are sometimes found dead of disease, starvation or gunshots.  They had left Dead Dog Beach at 9:00 that morning, and arrived here at JFK at about 4.  They were being loaded into the van for the hour and a half trip to Middletown and Pets Alive.  Most importantly, they were finally safe.

I had gotten shooed away twice and had to circle the airport while Kerry was rolling them two by two from the terminal to the van.  On one of my circuits around the airport I got stuck behind several Port Authority Police cars, lights flashing, blocking the road from all directions near the cargo area.  I was getting squirmy until I saw what they were doing.  A hearse followed by a vanload of Marines slowly made its way past where I was stopped, winding their way toward the airport exit.

Sigh.  So much death.  You don’t think about it.  You’re not even conscious of it after a while.  But it’s caustic.  It eats away at you, sometimes in little bites and sometimes in giant chunks.  Dead dog beach.

We had a bit of a scare just before the dogs were due to leave the beach.  One had severe damage to her back end.  The vet thinks it was from being kicked repeatedly and or beaten.  The surgery to fix her would be expensive.  Rob and Marisol stepped up and offered to pay for it.  She would be arriving at Pets Alive the following day, Wednesday.

She was actually not scheduled to be on the trip, but the rescuers at Dead Dog Beach had fallen in love with her and couldn’t leave her.  Neither could we.  They named her Hero.  Each time the rescuers came to the beach Hero would run up to them excitedly and try to get their attention.  When she got it, she led them to a puppy that was sick and needed their help.  She did this several times.  How did this sweet, selfless, intelligent dog end up here on this beach, disfigured from abuse and surrounded by pain and death?

Between the second and third trips I hopped up into the van and peeked in the battered crates.  As my feet hit the step I could hear the thumping of little tails against the side of the plastic.

I bent down and peered into the crate.  There were two puppy noses pressed up against the wire door, with tails wagging like crazy in the background.   This was Stacey and Casey, seven weeks old.  They squeaked in delight as I rubbed their heads gently.  I heard a loud thumping from the other other crate and I turned to see Macy, Hero’s sister, and Jenny, an absolutely adorable three month old long haired pup.  They were both ready to play.  Their sweetness and their willingness to trust always amazes me.  These poor souls had been through so much — getting dumped on Dead Dog Beach, fighting for survival, being abused and mistreated, then being stuffed into a crate and spending hours in the belly of a cold, large steel cylinder, ears popping and the fear of the unknown seeping through the rush of the artificial air supply.

As always, it was love at first sight.  Kerry returned with Jillian, eight weeks old, and Jack, twelve weeks old, and I loaded them gently into the van.  Out of the corner of my eye I could see the Police shoo patrol sauntering my way, and the officer blew his whistle at me.

Kerry climbed into the van and slammed the door.

“It was really sweet,” she said.  “People were walking off the plane into the terminal and stopping at the crates to say goodbye to the dogs and wish them well.”  Kerry said she heard the words of affection in both English and Spanish.

“Did you see them?”  She asked.  “So young.  Yet they have so much experience on their faces. In so many ways they’re old.  Old souls.”

And they are.  They have sweet young faces and are friendly and approachable, but their lives of pain and fear are etched into their faces, and they absolutely crave contact, even as they tentatively approach your proffered hand.

As we exit on to the Van Wyck Expressway the yipping begins.  They are stirring, excited to be on the ground.  Safe.  Still in motion but not scrounging for something to eat or cowering in fear or fighting for their own place on the beach.  They are pitifully skinny and malodorous.  But they are absolutely beautiful.  And they are safe.

The yipping becomes a symphony, reaches a crescendo then slowly decreases in volume and intensity.  Kerry is whispering to them soothingly, and as the sun sets they eventually fall asleep from the motion of the van on the Palisades and the exhaustion of their travels.

We bump down the rutted driveway at Pets Alive and I gently back the van up to the entrance.  We are bone tired.  They are bone tired.  But their little heads still perk up as soon as the motion of the van stops.  I always wonder what they’re thinking when the transport is over.  Do they hope?  Do they feel relief?  Can they sense the same feeling that there’s something special at Pets Alive that all of us feel when we’re here?

I remembered a conversation I had with Nancy the dog trainer about how dogs can sense our emotions.  For those who don’t believe that, it’s easier to believe that dogs have stronger senses, which causes them to pick up more cues from us and intuit things that we wouldn’t normally see or feel.  How’s that?  Anyway…Pets Alive relaxes me and brings me a sense of belonging.  Do they feel that themselves, or at least feel it radiate from me?

While I’m having my philosophical debate internally, Kerry is a bit more practical.  She yells at me to get moving (that’s a paraphrase).  We unload the pups and bring them into their home in the room next to Janet.  We pop them out of the crates.  There is, of course, a giant bowl of food, warm and soft blankets to lie on and plenty of newspaper for more esoteric needs.

We both stand there for a moment, watching them and smiling.  Once they are sated they turn toward us and climb up on the wire Ex-pen fencing, wagging their tails and preening.  They are some of the friendliest dogs we’ve had at Pets Alive.  They are sweet, gregarious, gentle and very affectionate.  Sigh.  They’ve been through so much.

We gently close the door and turn our attention to Macy and Jenny.  We let them out of their crates in the Volunteer Lounge and they quickly gobble up a bowl of food.  Macy looks up at me with eyes of pure love and melts my heart.  She’s a little tentative, but as I gently rub below her chin she leans into me and looks up at me with those eyes.  I am in love.  Her tail wags.  First slowly, then increasing in tempo.

She is giving me her heart.  And I feel the age of her soul.  The pain, the suffering, the loneliness and the despair that comes from not knowing where you will eat or sleep or live another day.  I feel her small, ridiculously thin body shudder as she sighs.  It moves me beyond words and I give her my heart right back.  This poor girl has lived decades in just a few months.  An old soul in a young body.   I’ve seen it a million times and I know that in a week or so she will let it all go and realize that the rest of her life will be okay.  She will be loved and cared for and have a home, and the first few months of her life will fade until her body catches up to her soul.

And then there’s Jenny.  She seems to realize right away that things have changed.  She bows down on her front legs and starts running around the room, ready to play.  Macy darts between the crates and situates herself right next to me.  Kerry comes over and they are on her like Spandex.

The exhaustion starts to seep in and we play as long as we can before we tuck them in for the night.  As we carry them back to the isolation part of the kennel, Macy gets frightened and hides her head under my arm, shuddering.  I gently stroke her until she’s okay.  We stay by the kennel for a few minutes until they get settled, and then we head for home.  I think about them all as I am getting ready for bed.  More souls saved from certain death.  Another day at Pets Alive.

Kerry gets in the next morning before me and goes to check on the pups who are doing great.  When I get in I run to the back kennel to check on Macy and Jenny.  When they see me they wag their tails so hard it looks like they are going to shake themselves apart.

I jump into their kennel (don’t tell Janet – she’ll yell at me about quarantine rules) and they are all over me.  So sweet.  I spend some time with them, stop to see a few of my favorite dogs and then head up to work.

Later that day I get word that Hero has arrived.  She looks a lot like Macy, except that her back legs bow out in different directions.  She has trouble walking, favoring one leg or the other from the beatings she received.  She is as sweet as her sister with one little twist…she’s a talker.  She looks at you with the same eyes full of love and gives a little hoot as her tail wags faster.  Like Macy she’s a little more tentative with males but she is an absolute love.  I couldn’t take my eyes off her and I couldn’t let her go.  So much suffering, such an old soul but what an amazingly sweet dog.

Whoever adopts these dogs is going to be very lucky to have their love.  Thanks so much to Rob and Marisol and all of you for making it possible for Kerry and I to experience the joy we feel on days like this when its more privilege than job, which is most of the time.

I can’t help but think of the dogs left behind on Dead Dog Beach, and all the old souls out there that suffer and die every day.  Every day Kerry and I, the staff at Pets Alive and our volunteers and supporters go home tired.

We always wish we could save more Macys and Heros.  Thanks to you we will.

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Back in 1620, a group of about 100 religious dissidents from England found themselves in Plymouth, Massachusetts after a short stop in the Netherlands.  They were the first settlers in this new world, and things were rough.

During the first winter here 50 out of a hundred settlers died of starvation and sickness.  Tradition has it that in the spring they planted their first harvest and the abundance of some of the crops was amazing.  They were able to pay off their financiers in England quicker than they expected, and there was still plenty left over.

They were thankful for their very lives – thankful to be part of the surviving Pilgrims.  They were thankful for their harvest – thankful that they were reaping in abundance the seeds they had sown.

A little over a week ago we were all shocked at the senseless killing of Oreo, the dog who had survived being thrown from a six story rooftop, landing on air conditioning units which broke her fall.

As we know she died not from her injuries but as a result of the decision to take her life rather than respond to our request to take her to Pets Alive for rehabilitation.

Since then we’ve seen the announcement of Oreo’s Law, a bill introduced by Assembly Member Kellner and Senator Duane of New York.  The language is practically identical to the language found in the Hayden Law in California, and is simple…if another legitimate rescue organization offers to accept responsibility for an animal that will otherwise be killed, the organization that has the animal must, by law, release it to the requesting organization.

Since Oreo’s death I’ve watched the ASPCA and its supporters try to divert the discussion away from the central issue, but let’s all remember that the issue is simply this:  Is it morally right for a so-called humane organization to kill an animal when there is another option?  In this case that option was Pets Alive.

The answer is equally simple:  No, it is morally wrong.

Euthanasia must be understood for what it is: a last-step, end-of-the-road option to spare animals further hardship and suffering.

Do you think the ASPCA agrees with that statement?  They should.  It’s their Euthanasia Policy.  With Oreo, they violated it, even though they’ve recently amended it to take it farther from the concept of “no-kill.”

I’ve also watched Pets Alive get smeared here and there on the Net.  Whatever.  Our supporters know who and what we are.  I invite the naysayers to get some testicular fortitude and come visit us.  See if you’re still talking out the same side of your face when you leave here.

When Kerry and her large, extended family get together around the Thanksgiving table each year, the first thing they do is go around the table one by one and talk about what they’re thankful for.

At Pets Alive we’re thankful for you – the people who believe in what we do.  The people who give us their hard-earned dollars five and ten at a time, who expect that we won’t spend it on large salaries and million dollar advertising budgets.

People who trust us to do the right thing no matter how much we get slammed for it.  I promise you we always will.

I’ve read the lies.  About how we’re doing this for the publicity or the money.  Those of you who know us know we did this because this is simply what we do.  What you underpay us for.

We’re thankful that the Oreos of the world have places like Pets Alive to go to, along with thousands of smaller organizations that do what we do.  Thankful that we have Best Friends to lead the way, and thankful that they work so closely with us and pick up the phone every time we call.

We’re thankful for the employees in organizations like the ASPCA who truly care about the animals, and advocate regularly for dogs like Oreo, risking being “written up” for “caring too much about the animals.”  The employee who told me that said “What am I supposed to do?  Stop caring?”  No, you’re not.  Another employee spoke of killing animals for reasons other than sickness, saying that “each one took a piece of her soul.”  These people may seem exceptional but we are thankful that there is a blanket of these people protecting the animals who can’t protect themselves.

Even if they couldn’t protect Oreo.

At Pets Alive we’re thankful that our employees have never stopped caring.  They buy animals chicken and rice with their own money when they won’t eat.  They come in on their days off to check on an animal.  They do so much for so little, and they touch us beyond words.  Our volunteers are equally amazing, except they do it for nothing (I suspect our employees would too.  And do.  Regularly.)

Like Thanksgiving, the Oreo debate is about life.  It’s about doing the right thing, which makes it about right and wrong.  Don’t let anyone use sleight of hand to make this something else.

So this Thanksgiving realize that your dog or cat is thankful for YOU, especially if you rescued him or her.  Acknowledge that special bond by sneaking them all something from the dinner table.  At the DeAngelis house we have to protect all food items from the long reach of Roscoe, the Plott Hound from Pets Alive that had surgery on both hind legs and now can rear up and snag anything on any surface at any time.

Now let’s talk about a harvest of a different sort.  Let’s use the opportunity created in having the family together to sow the seeds of Oreo’s Law.  Tell your family members about Oreo.  Tell them about Oreo’s Law.  Tell them they can help by supporting the law, telling other people and writing to the lawmakers in New York.

Refer them to the page that will help them do all that:

http://petsalive.com/oreo

With your help next year we can reap the results of those seeds:  more animals saved from death.

By the way…thank you.  From all of us at Pets Alive, human and furry (and both).

Enjoy Thanksgiving.

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