"This is the saddest place on Earth.” Those are the first words I heard when I opened the doors to the East Valley Animal Shelter in Van Nuys. The man who said it, while visibly upset, was hurrying out to his car. Before I could stop him and ask why, an unfolding scene caught my eye.
Two women were dragging a beige and white Staffordshire Terrier mix that was whimpering to the front of the counter. His name was Charlie, with amber eyes and floppy ears. They began to explain the situation to Rebecca Summers, the animal care technician who greeted them. What situation? I moved in closer.
They were turning him in.
They said he was aggressive and had fought with other dogs, but when told that his chances of making out alive were slim, they changed Charlie’s conviction to “hyper.”
He was found as a puppy in a park when he was three months old, they said. But like all big breeds, he had grown in size and they decided they could no longer keep him. It was made clear that he could be put down if he did show aggression.
But their minds were already made up. Charlie would be calling the East Valley Animal Shelter his new home, at least for a short while, with the other 432 animals, including 244 dogs and 166 cats that were there as of Sunday, Oct. 17.
Summers was trying to get her camera to work so she could take a photo of Charlie for his ID card when I caught up with her. He seemed really sweet, she said, but she couldn’t tell what he was like yet.
Around the back, dogs and cats waited in the damp Los Angeles weather in their kennels and crates for someone, anyone, to take them home.
With the smell of urine and rain in the air and an orchestra of wails and barks, I walked down the corridors of metal cages and concrete grounds. The last time I felt that somber was during an early morning trip to Alcatraz Island, where strangely enough, the jail cells were almost exactly the same size.
A few families had come to find a potential pet. Volunteers were periodically taking dogs on walks. One couldn’t even be persuaded back in its kennel with a treat, dragging its body across the floor until another volunteer placed it back in. Another had climbed half way up its kennel door, oblivious of course, that he had already been adopted out and would be going to a new home any day now.
The East Valley Animal Shelter has a high euthanasia rate, but also a high adoption rate, according to shelter workers. For as many that get adopted, more come in.
Many of the shelter’s dogs have “stray” listed as their status, which makes you wonder how they ended up on the streets in the first place. Were they left somewhere by people who decided they didn’t want a dog anymore? Are they the result of a litter born to a backyard breeder? Did they escape? Are they lost? Their stories are unclear, and the only thing declaring their existence fits on a 6 x8 card attached to the metal wires of their cages.
The stray status however, might be deceiving. Many who turn animals claim they’re stray to perhaps alleviate the guilt associated with an unwanted animal.
“They tell you its stray, but you know it’s their pet,” Summers said.
The clear divide down the center brings up an issue deeper than euthanasia rates or budget woes within LAAS, one reflected in the residents of the East Valley Animal Shelter: responsible pet ownership and what exactly it means take care of and be morally held accountable for the life of an animal. In Los Angeles, residents pamper and indulge in their pets, with high-end pet boutiques and designer breeds on sale for thousands across the city that are potentially churned out as fast as Happy Meals from puppy mills, but also turn dogs like Charlie into already crowded shelters because they get too big.
(Photo: an East Valley Animal Shelter dog on Sunday, Oct. 17/ by Liana Aghajanian)
