Euthanasia

Because of the proliferation of animals and as a result of many animal owners not being responsible in having their pets spayed and neutered, many shelters are forced to euthanize unwanted animals they are unable to be place. Many people don't recognize that the over population of animals has a negative impact on the tax payer. Last year state and county operated shelters put to death over 50,000 pets combined. It is the human companion who is obligated to do the correct thing and have their companion animal altered.

There are only six state and county operated shelters that do not euthanize animals and one private that is local. All of the no kill state and operated ones are in Central and North Jersey.

If anyone has any doubts about spaying or
neutering their animals, they should read this: My name is Sam:

After I was discharged from the Navy, Jim and I moved back to Detroit
to use our GI bill benefits to get some schooling. Jim was going for
a degree in Electronics and I, after much debating, decided to get
mine in Computer Science. One of the classes that was a requirement
was Speech.

Like many people, I had no fondness for getting up in front of
people for any reason, let alone to be the center of attention
as I stuttered my way through some unfamiliar subject. But I couldn't
get out of the requirement, and so I found myself in my last
semester before graduation with Speech as one of my classes.

On the first day of class our professor explained to us that he was
going to leave the subject manner of our talks up to us, but he was
going to provide the motivation of the speech. We would be
responsible for six speeches, each with a different motivation. For
instance our first speech's purpose was to inform. He advised us to
pick subjects that we were interested in and knowledgeable about. I
decided to center my six speeches around animals, especially dogs.

For my first speech to inform, I talked about the equestrian art of
dressage. For my speech to demonstrate, I brought my German Shepherd,
Bodger, to class and demonstrated obedience commands. Finally the
semester was almost over and I had but one more speech to give. This
speech was to take the place of a written final exam and was to count
for fifty per cent of our grade. The speeches motivation was to
persuade.

After agonizing over a subject matter, and keeping with my animal
theme, I decided on the topic of spaying and neutering pets. My goal
was to try to persuade my classmates to neuter their pets. So I
started researching the topic. There was plenty of material, articles
that told of the millions of dogs and cats that were euthanized every
year, of supposedly beloved pets that were turned in to various
animal control facilities for the lamest of reasons, or worse,
dropped off far from home, bewildered and scared. Death was usually a
blessing.

The final speech was looming closer, but I felt well prepared. My
notes were full of facts and statistics that I felt sure would
motivate even the most naive of pet owners to succumb to my plea. A
couple of days before our speeches were due, I had the bright idea of
going to the local branch of the Humane Society and borrowing a
puppy to use as a sort of a visual aid. I called the Humane Society
and explained what I wanted. They were very happy to accommodate me.
I made arrangements to pick up a puppy the day before my speech.

The day before my speech, I went to pick up the puppy. I was feeling
very confident. I could quote all the statistics and numbers without
ever looking at my notes. The puppy, I felt, would add the final
emotional touch. When I arrived at the Humane Society I was met by
a young guy named Ron. He explained that he was the public relations
person for the Humane Society. He was very excited about my speech
and asked if I would like a tour of the facilities before I picked up
the puppy. I enthusiastically agreed.

We started out in the reception area, which was the general public's
initial encounter with the Humane Society. The lobby was full, mostly
with people dropping off various animals that they no longer wanted
Ron explained to me that this branch of the Humane Society took in
about fifty animals a day and adopted out twenty.

As we stood there I heard snatches of conversation:

"I can't keep him, he digs holes in my garden." "They are such cute
puppies, I know you will have no trouble finding homes for them."
"She is wild, I can't control her."

I heard one of Humane Society's volunteer explain to the lady with
the litter of puppies that the Society was filled with puppies and
that these puppies, being black, would immediately be put to sleep.
Black puppies, she explained, had little chance of being adopted.
The woman who brought the puppies in just shrugged, "I can't help
it," she whined. "They are getting too big. I don't have room for
them."

We left the reception area. Ron led me into the staging area where
all the incoming animals were evaluated for adoptability. Over half
never even made it to the adoption center. There were just too many.
Not only were people bringing in their own animals, but strays were
also dropped off. By law the Humane Society had to hold a stray for
three days. If the animal was not claimed by then, it was euthanized,
since there was no background information on the animal. There were
already too many animals that had a known history eagerly provided by
their soon-to-be ex-owners. As we went through the different areas,
I felt more and more depressed. No amount of statistics could take
the place of seeing the reality of what this throw-away attitude
did to the living, breathing animal. It was overwhelming

Finally Ron stopped in front of a closed door. "That's it," he said,
"except for this."

I read the sign on the door. "Euthanization Area." "Do you want to
see one?" he asked. Before I could decline, he interjected, "You
really should. You can't tell the whole story unless you experience
the end." I reluctantly agreed.

"Good." He said "I already cleared it and Peggy is expecting you."
He knocked firmly on the door. It was opened immediately by a middle-
aged woman in a white lab coat. "Here's the girl I was telling you
about," Ron explained. Peggy looked me over. "Well I'll leave you
here with Peggy and meet you in the reception area in about fifteen
minutes. I'll have the puppy ready." With that Ron departed, leaving
me standing in front of the stern-looking Peggy.

Peggy motioned me in. As I walked into the room, I gave an audible
gasp. The room was small and spartan. There were a couple of cages on
the wall and a cabinet with syringes and vials of a clear liquid.
In the middle of the room was an examining table with a rubber mat on
top. There were two doors other than the one I had entered. Both were
closed. One said to the incinerator room, and the other had no sign,
but I could hear various animals noises coming from behind the closed
door.

In the back of the room, near the door that was marked incinerator
were the objects that caused my distress: two wheelbarrows, filled
with the bodies of dead kittens and puppies. I stared in horror.
Nothing had prepared me for this. I felt my legs grow weak and my
breathing become rapid and shallow. I wanted to run from that room,
screaming.

Peggy seemed not to notice my state of shock. She started talking
about the euthanization process, but I wasn't hearing her. I could
not tear my gaze away from the wheelbarrows and those dozens of
pathetic little bodies. Finally, Peggy seemed to notice that I was
not paying attention to her. "Are you listening?" she asked irritably.
"I'm only going to go through this once." I tore my gaze from the
back of the room and looked at her. I opened my mouth to say
something, but nothing would come out, so I nodded.

She told me that behind the unmarked door were the animals that were
scheduled for euthanasia that day. She picked up a chart that was
hanging from the wall. "One fifty three is next," she said as she
looked at the chart. "I'll go get him." She laid down the chart on
the examining table and started for the unmarked door. Before she got
to the door she stopped and turned around. "You aren't going to get
hysterical, are you?" she asked, "Because that will only upset the
animals." I shook my head. I had not said a word since I walked into
that room. I still felt unsure if would be able to without breaking
down into tears.

As Peggy opened the unmarked door I peered into the room beyond.
It was a small room, but the walls were lined and stacked with cages.
It looked like they were all occupied. Peggy opened the door of one
of the lower cages and removed the occupant. From what I could see it
looked like a medium-sized dog. She attached a leash and ushered the
dog into the room in which I stood.

As Peggy brought the dog into the room I could see that the dog was
no more than a puppy, maybe five or six months old. The pup looked to
be a cross between a Lab and a German shepherd. He was mostly black,
with a small amount of tan above his eyes and on his feet. He was
very excited and bouncing up and down, trying to sniff everything in
this new environment.

Peggy lifted the pup onto the table. She had a card in her hand,
which she laid on the table next to me. I read the card. It said that
number one fifty three was a mixed Shepherd, six months old. He was
surrendered two days ago by a family. Reason of surrender was given as
"jumps on children." At the bottom was a note that said "Name: Sam."

Peggy was quick and efficient, from lots of practice, I guessed. She
laid one fifty three down on his side and tied a rubber tourniquet
around his front leg. She turned to fill the syringe from the vial of
clear liquid. All this time I was standing at the head of the table.
I could see the moment that one fifty three went from a curious puppy
to a terrified puppy. He did not like being held down and he started
to struggle.

It was then that I finally found my voice. I bent over the struggling
puppy and whispered "Sam. Your name is Sam." At the sound of his name
Sam quit struggling. He wagged his tail tentatively and his soft pink
tongue darted out and licked my hand. And that is how he spent his
last moment. I watched his eyes fade from hopefulness to nothingness.
It was over very quickly. I had never even seen Peggy give the lethal
shot. The tears could not be contained any longer. I kept my head
down so as not to embarrass myself in front of the stoic Peggy. My
tears fell onto the still body on the table.

"Now you know," Peggy said softly. Then she turned away. "Ron will be
waiting for you." I left the room. Although it seemed like it had
been hours, only fifteen minutes had gone by since Ron had left me at
the door.

I made my way back to the reception area. True to his word, Ron had
the puppy all ready to go. After giving me some instructions about
what to feed the puppy, he handed the carrying cage over to me and
wished me good luck on my speech.

That night I went home and spent many hours playing with the orphan
puppy. I went to bed that night but I could not sleep. After a while
I got up and looked at my speech notes with their numbers and
statistics. Without a second thought, I tore them up and threw them
away. I went back to bed. Sometime during the night I finally fell
asleep. The next morning I arrived at my Speech class with Puppy Doe.
When my turn came to give my speech. I walked up to the front the
class with the puppy in my arms. I took a deep breath, and I told the
class about the life and death of Sam. When I finished my speech I
became aware that I was crying. I apologized to the class and took my
seat. After class the teacher handed out a critique with our grades.
I got an "A." His comments said "Very moving and persuasive."

Two days later, on the last day of class, one of my classmates came
up to me. She was an older lady that I had never spoken to in class.
She stopped me on our way out of the class room.

"I want you to know that I adopted the puppy you brought to class,"
she said. "His name is Sam."

Author: Chris Benton
(cbenton@cland-mt.com)

When you think about breeding your dog. Just remember SAM

Pets are for life
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kbhk8N8SGoQ&mode=related&search_