Nine month old Scruffy, beloved cat of Daniel Dockery didn't have to die.
A few years ago, a woman I worked with stated she thought the Humane Society would rather put cats down than allow them to be adopted. because her friend's application for pet adoption had been turned down with no reason given. That wasn't the first time I'd heard about this happening.
In 2008 I expressed concern to the Stevens-Swann Humane Society about a pit bull pup that was kept chained to a tree in the back yard of an unoccupied rental house in Utica, New York. The dog was left alone all day and all night for days at a time, through summer heat and pouring rain. It cried constantly. My landlady called the city codes department. I called them. The police were called. The landlord was notified. Nobody gave a damn. There's big money to be made in dog fighting. Epic #FAIL
All those donations from caring people; what do they pay for--TV commercials? Or hiring P.R. spin doctors like the one hired by the humane society after Scruffy was killed. And isn't it interesting that Daniel, a "recovering heroin addict," takes responsibility for "failing" Scruffy upon himself.
It was NOT Daniel Dockery who failed Scruffy.
It was a huge organization that has too often shown itself to be heartless.
Here's another viewpoint from inside the shelter industry.
And here's my experience. In 2001 I was unjustly fired from my job because of a health issue. Although I was eligible for unemployment benefits it wasn't enough to pay my rent so I moved out. When I became homeless, so did my dog. During a two week period, in November we spent days in my car and at night slept wherever we could. During those two weeks I called (among others) the Humane Society and asked them to find a temporary foster home for my dog until I could find a job and a new apartment. I let them know I could pay for his dog food, shots and whatever vet bills he might have.
On November 10th I called the Humane Society at 9 A.M. I told them I would pay for my dog's food and any vet visits he needed, but I needed a temporary home for him. The person who answered at the Humane Society said to call back at 10 A.M. and ask for "Pam." I did-- twice . Nobody picked up so I left a message. My calls were never returned.
Two days later, the animal police came banging on the door of the apartment where I was using somebody's computer to send my resume. I got a ticket for ANIMAL CRUELTY because somebody had reported seeing my dog in the car in the early morning. He was, with all four windows down all the way, the car parked under a large tree, and his bowl of water on the seat. If the nosy neighbors were so concerned about my dog, why the FFFFKKKK didn't they open the car door and let him out? He was leashed. He wore a rabies tag. The windows were wide open, with manual locks on the doors.
BTW, he was in the apartment with me when the animal police came knocking.
When I went to "animal court" to answer the ticket, I started to read off the names and phone numbers of all the people and organizations I had contacted asking for help to temporarily shelter my dog. But when I got to humane society, the judge abruptly cut me off. Apparently she didn't want this information entered into the court transcript by the court reporter. Whatever. It's entered now, right here. She then reduced my ticket.
Where were the animal police when I and my co-workers reported the dogs locked in a van with the window cracked an inch in the extremely hot, airport parking garage? The engine was not running; the ac was not on.
My dog was a happy, healthy ten year old when we became homeless due to job loss. By the time I found work nine months later, and an apartment six months after that, he had developed significant health issues and his fur was flecked with gray.
Rest in peace, Butch & Scruffy.