Declawing: The Price of Convenience By Judah Battista

 The declawing of cats is still routinely performed in this country, even though it is illegal or considered inhumane in many other countries around the world. Most people decide to have their cats declawed as a matter of convenience to protect their furniture from cat scratching or to guard against injury to themselves and family members. 

Many of these people, however, don’t realize the pain that the surgery can cause. Declawing is the amputation of each toe at the first joint. In humans, it would be equivalent to cutting off the tip of every finger at the first knuckle – very painful, indeed! If performed on a human, this operation would be considered a mutilation. It is as unethical as tail docking and ear clipping in dogs.

People who declaw their cats also may not be aware that the surgery can cause more problems than it solves. Cats deprived of their front claws may develop an aversion to the litter box. Their paws remain sensitive from the surgery, so they avoid scratching in their litter and may begin eliminating around the house instead. 

Declawing leaves cats without one of their primary defense mechanisms, and impairs their balance and ability to climb. Many declawed cats suffer from joint stiffness. In certain cats, it may leave psychological scars that translate into behavioral problems. 

Declawing is essentially done for the convenience of humans – to the detriment of the cat. You are working against rather than with your kitty if you force him to endure needless pain and put him at risk for developing negative side-effects to the surgery. 

If you want to protect your furniture, there are humane alternatives to declawing. Cats scratch things for various reasons – to slough off the husks of dead claws, to mark their territory, and to stretch their bodies. It’s a completely natural behavior, so give your cat an alternative place to scratch – a scratching post. You can encourage your kitty to use the scratching post by rubbing or spraying it with catnip. There are many different kinds of scratching posts (both vertical and horizontal), so you might want to try several different kinds to find the one your cat prefers.

There are also several different products available at pet supply stores to discourage your cat from scratching the furniture. You can apply clear, sticky strips called Sticky Paws to your furniture or spray the furniture with a smell (like citrus) that cats don’t like. Other things that might help: Keep your cat’s claws trimmed or apply soft plastic caps (called Soft Paws) to your cat’s claws. And, if all else fails, a simple stream of water from a spray bottle often gets the point across!

If you would like more information about declawing and alternatives to it, these two web pages are very helpful: The Paw Project at www.pawproject.com/html/faqs.asp and the Association of Veterinarians for Animal Rights at www.avar.org (search for “declawing”).

For over 10 years, Judah Battista has been supervisor of the clinic at Best Friends and co-manager of Best Friends’ Cat World, which houses around 600 cats.

http://www.bestfriends.org/theanimals/pdfs/cats/declawing.pdf

The Truth About Those Black Tongues....

Does the black spot on your Labrador's tongue mean he's really a Chow mix? That mixed breed puppy in the shelter with a partially black tongue -- is that a sure sign he's part Chow?  The answer to both questions is:   No!  
The Chow Chow's blue-black tongue is one of the breed's most well known physical characteristics. It's also the most misunderstood.

The Chow is one of the most ancient breeds and is the ancestor of many breeds of today. The orgin of the Chow's black tongue is a mystery; we don't know how or why he came to have it. 

We do know that the Chow is not the only breed with a blue-black tongue. The Chinese Shar-Pei shares this trait as well.  A few other animals have black tongues, too:  the giraffe, polar bear, and several breeds of cattle including the Jersey. 
We also know that blue-black spots on tongues are very common in dogs - more than 30 pure breeds are known  to have members with spotted tongues. 
Spots on tongues are simply deposits of extra pigment, like birthmarks and freckles on people.  Dogs often have spots of dark pigment on their skin, too, hiding under their coats.  These spots can be large or small, many or few.  
If a Chow's tongue has a pink spot on it, does that mean it's not purebred?  No. Chow puppies' tongues are pink at birth. They darken to blue-black by 8-10 weeks of age. Some tongues don't  cover completely and they may have small spots or splashes of pink. Elderly Chows and Chows with the dilute coat colors of cinnamon and blue sometimes lose tongue pigment as they age and develop pink spots.

What if the dog looks like a Chow but has a completely pink or mostly pink tongue?
 Knowledgeable Chowists agree that such dogs are not purebred Chows and might not have any Chow parentage at all. The Chow is a member of the spitz family, a large group of breeds that includes the  Samoyed, Siberian Husky, Malamute, Akita, Shiba Inu,  Pomeranian, Norwegian Elkhound, Keeshond, etc. They all share basic physical characteristics:  a similar body structure, over-the-back tail carriage, upright triangular ears, and a dense offstanding coat.  A Chow-looking dog with a pink tongue is more likely to be a mix of one of the other spitz-type breeds.


-Kathy Welsh, Anna Wallace, and Vicki DeGruy

Click here  to read the article. 

Time at the Shelter

I've always had this weird ability to pick out the weirdest (but most loving) cat at the pound.  The thought of getting an animal from anywhere else never crosses my mind.  There is something special about those animals and you can't help but love them; each for their own personality.  The other day I went to volunteer at the York County Animal Shelter and fell in love with about a dozen different cats!  Benjamin, a huge white and orange, fluffy kitty, was one of my favorites.  He was very quiet but very cuddly.  He was so content just to sit on my lap and rub his face on my shoe.  I couldn't help but wonder how happy Benjamin would make some little girl or an older gentlemen or lady.  Cats are such wonderful self-maintained animals.  They're easy to take care of and most are much more compassionate than people realize.  I also played with a cute little black kitten named Lullabelle (who I am told is now adopted).  You would think that as a pound kitten, she would be skittish and otherwise unsociable, but she was the exact opposite.  At 3 months old, Lullabelle was fighting for my attention; cuddling on my lap, purring really loud and giving me kisses on my nose.  Sahara and Joey, two older kittens in the pound, were wonderful as well.  Joey was full of things to say and very playful.  Sahara was a much more quiet but just as lovey kitten.  I've heard a disturbing statistic about black cats having a very low adoption rate (I guess because of superstitions).  There are a couple black kitties at the pound that are SO affectionate and perfectly socialized.  Mariah and Rylee, two black cats, were two of my favorite animals that I played with.  If you're looking for a cat, definitely consider those two!  As for Benjamin, my favorite, I may have to take him home myself :-)



Michelle Rock-Volunteer

Interview at the Dog Pound

Interview at the Dog Pound

As a journalist, I decided to go to the dog pound, and interview some of the "inmates". I wanted to know what it was like in there from their perspective. What follows is not for the faint of heart.

I entered the building, and one of the workers accompanied me to the holding area. This is where dogs are kept before they are allowed up for adoption. IF they are allowed up for adoption. If the dogs are found to be aggressive in any way, euthanasia is employed. Fortunately, if "fortunately" is the word to be used here. This is a Canadian establishment, and they use lethal injection, not a gas chamber.

The pound worker led me past a big steel door that says "Employees Only". "What is in there?" I asked. From the look he gave me, I knew that this is where dogs go in, and never return.

We moved on to a row of kennels. The dogs were barking loudly, there was the acrid smell of urine and feces, and a feeling of despair seemed to permeate the room.

"Go ahead," the worker said. "They're all yours."

PETEY

I looked into the first kennel, and saw only the back of a medium sized dog who was curled up in the corner of his kennel, shivering. He was mostly white, with some black spots. "Hello?" I said. "May I come in?" He lifted his head, as though it weighed more than he could bear. When he looked at me, I could see he was a Pitbull. His eyes were gentle, but filled with grief. "Enter," was all he said.

I stepped in, closing the gate behind me. He put his head back down, facing away from me. I crouched down a few feet away.

"My name is Pete. Petey my Master called me," he said, still not looking at me.

"Why are you here Pete?" I asked.

"I am here because Master cannot afford to move to another province. I am here because someone with power said I am vicious, and a killer. Someone who never met me.  Master took me for a walk one day, and some lady started to scream when she saw me. I got frightened, and barked at her. The dog police came, and they took me away. I have been with Master for 10 years. The last time I saw him, he just held me and cried. He kept telling me he was sorry. I worry for him. Whatever will he do without me?" Pete shivered even more. A tear slid down my face. I am supposed to remain objective, but this was wrong, so wrong.

"Thank you Pete." I said. He said nothing as I got up and left his kennel.

Popper

The kennel next to Pete's held a very young looking dog. Pure Border Collie by my guess. He stood on his hind legs, looking at me through the gate.

"Hello. My name's Popper. He tilted his head. "Are you here to take me home?"

"No, I'm sorry," I replied. "But I would like to talk with you."

"Sure. What would you like to talk about?"

"Popper, how did you come to be in this place?" I asked.

Popper dropped down from the gate, with a perplexed look on his face. He walked to the back of the kennel, then back to the front. I noticed he had one blue eye, and one brown. He was quite beautiful. His black and white coat was shiny and thick.

"I am not certain WHY I am here. I think maybe my family will come back for me. They bought me when I was only 6 weeks old. I remember they said how smart Border Collies are, and how it would be so easy to train me. They were very excited at first. The little ones played with me all the time. But the trouble with little Masters is, they refuse to stay in a group. I constantly had to nip their heels to keep them together." He looked confused. "Why won't they stay in a group?" he sighed. "So I did what I thought I should do. I am not quite sure why the little ones screamed when I did my job, but they did, and the Masters got very angry at me. They also got angry when I had to relieve myself, and did so in the house. I am not sure where they expected me to go. All they said was that I was the smartest breed in the world, and I should just KNOW better. Then they left me in the yard for a month or so. I got bored a lot, and I dug holes in the grass. The next thing I knew, the Masters brought me here."

Popper jumped back up on the gate, his white paws protruding through the links. He looked at me with his lovely eyes, and asked "Will you please let them know I want to come home? Please tell them I promise I will be good?"

"I will Popper," I said.

Spartan

My heart was breaking. I was beginning to regret coming here, but their stories had to be told. I moved along. The next dog I saw looked to be easily 100 lbs., a Rottweiler. He was handsome indeed, except for the scars on his face and back. He tilted his head, and looked me right in the eyes.

"Hello. Who are you?" he asked.

"I am a reporter," I replied. "May I speak with you for a little while?"

"Most certainly. My name is Spartan. You can come in, I won't bite," he said.

"Thank you Spartan. I will."

I entered his kennel, reached out and stroked his giant head. He made a loud grumbling noise, and closed his eyes.

"Spartan, why are you here?"

Before he could answer my question, he was suddenly in the grip of a nasty coughing spasm. It sounded painful.

"Please excuse me," he said when it passed. "Kennel cough. It seems all of us who come in here get it.

"Why am I here? Well, about two years ago, I was born in the backyard of some person I can't even recall. I had 11 brothers and sisters. I recall a day when a big man came and gave that person some money, and took me away from my mother. They had to chain her up, as she was very angry that he took me. They chained her and beat her. I came to know the man by the name of Jim. I overheard him telling his friends that I would grow up to be big and mean like my mother. But as I grew older, all I wanted to do was play and be friends with everyone. Jim said I needed to be taught how to be mean, so he chained me up in the yard. No more house for me, he said, I was too spoiled. When people came by to visit, I was so happy to see them. I wanted them to come and play. But that made Jim angry, so he beat me with sticks and chains. When he came near, I would roll onto my back so he would know I wasn't a bad dog. That made him beat me more." Spartan's eyes clouded with grief. "Then he brought me here."

I reached out and stroked Spartan's massive gentle head once more. "I am so sorry Spartan. Some people are just plain evil." I gave him a kiss and left his kennel. As I walked away, Spartan called out, "What will happen to me, nice lady?"

I shook my head. "I can't say Spartan. Maybe someone kind will come and get you. We can only hope."

Patsy

I walked a little further down. I could see a shape moving at the back of the next kennel. "Hello?" I called out. Suddenly the shape lunged at the gate in a fury, barking and gnashing its teeth. I stumbled backwards, and crashed into an adjacent kennel. The other dogs began barking loudly and jumping at their gates.

"Don't go near her," a small female voice came from behind me. "She's mad."

I gathered myself back together, and saw a little Jack Russell Terrier behind me.

"Thanks for the warning," I was still trembling. Across the way, the other dog, apparently a Husky and German Shepherd cross, was glaring at me, lips curled back revealing brown stained teeth. Her ribs and hips showed through her dull, matted grey coat.

The little dog invited me into her kennel, and I gladly went in.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Patsy." The little brown and white dog held a paw up to the gate in greeting.

"My owner surrendered me. She said she wanted a cute little dog like the one on the TV show, Frasier. She didn't bother to look into the type of dog I am." Patsy heaved a sigh.

"I suppose she expected me to just lie about and only need a short walk each day, just like Eddie, but my energy was so high that I needed to run and play." She glanced at her surroundings. "Now I am here. I suppose it could be worse. I could be like her." Patsy looked towards the still growling dog across the way.

"What happened to make her so vicious?" I asked.

"From what we could gather," she replied, "she was found tied in a back yard. She only had a three foot chain. Some days there was no water. Rarely was there any food. One day a nice neighbor came by and brought her some meat. By then it was too late. She was already mad. She broke off her chain, and bit the poor man badly. We know she will be going behind the steel door. I am sad to say, I think it will be best. Perhaps then she will know some peace."

Just then, the door at the end of the building opened, and a woman stepped inside. All the dogs began to bark wildly, then one by one, they went quiet. I whispered to Patsy, "Who is that? Why have all the dogs gone quiet?"

Patsy breathed deeply through her little nose, and closed her eyes. "SHE is a Rescuer. Can't you smell it?" she asked.

"Smell what?" I was confused.

"Compassion. Love. Sorrow. It emanates from her pores. She is here for one of us, but nobody knows who just yet." Patsy looked hopeful.

The Rescuer moved from kennel to kennel, looking at each dog. I sat quietly watching. I could see tears in her eyes as she made eye contact with each one. She stopped at Spartan's cage and spoke quietly to him.

"No more beatings my man.  No more. You are coming with me. From here on in, it's all going to get better." The Rescuer produced a leash, opened the kennel door, and took Spartan away. As he walked beside her, his little stubby tail wagged with delight.  

Patsy sighed again. I could see the disappointment in her eyes, and it grieved me. They all had the same look, as they watched The Rescuer depart.

"I am so sorry Patsy," I said in a whisper. "But you are a little dog, and everyone loves little dogs. I am convinced you will be rescued soon." Patsy's brown eyes twinkled at me, a little bit of hope returning.

I had heard and seen enough. I needed to tell people how it was for these unfortunate creatures. They were all here through no fault of their own. I stood to leave. I passed by many other dogs I did not interview, looking at each one, wishing I could take them all home with me and give them the love they deserved.

I stood by the door taking one last glance back, when it opened, and one of the pound workers came in. His face was drawn and sad. He walked by without a word, and stopped at Pete's kennel. I heard him take a deep breath, then he paused, and opened the kennel door. The words were muffled, but I am sure I heard him say "I'm sorry old boy."

He came out, with Petey in tow. The old dog's head hung down in resignation, and they both disappeared behind the big steel door.

These are all "good, sweet, cute, smart, good with kids dogs" yet as humans we don't understand what a mess we have created. It's time for all of us to be responsible. Research the breed BEFORE you get it. All puppies are cute but can you handle it when it gets older and big? It's time for all of us to stop the name calling and bickering , it's not helping the animals and let's fix the problem.

What can YOU do?

1. Spay/Neuter your pet
2. Spread the word that this is the right thing to do to fight the problem of pet overpopulation
3. ADOPT before you shop
4. Volunteer at your local Animal Shelter

Some things to think about...BEFORE YOU ADOPT A DOG!

• Do I want a puppy or and older dog?
• Puppies are, of course, CUTE, but they have their own challenges. Older dogs are more settled and you know how beg they are as adults.
• If i rent, does the landlord allow pets? Are there and restrictions on size?
• Do I have a fenced yard? Am I willing to walk a dog several times a day, rain or shine?
• Do other member of my family also want a dog? Do we agree on "household rules" such as which areas of the house the dog will be allowed in, where it will sleep, etc?
• Can I afford to feed a dog properly and provide appropriate veterinary care?
• Are there young children in the home or children who visit frequently? 
• Will I be home enough to give a dog adequate care, attention, and love?
• Do I have other pets at home? Do I know how to introduce a new dog to the others?
• What type of dog would best match my lifestyle? Do I want a dog to jog or go hiking with, or do I want one to sit with me in the evenings while I watch TV?
• Nowadays, it is not unusual for dogs to live 10-12 years, or even longer. Am I committed to providing a lifetime home for a dog?

More resources for you to explore...
www.dogstardaily.com
www.apdt.com
www.dogwise.com
www.perfectpaws.com