by Kathy McKinney
Sometimes, when I’m sitting around watching “Meet the Press” on Sunday, trying to figure out what I’m going to write about here for Wednesday, I think of a great topic and then dismiss it, thinking “Oooooh, that’s gonna get me in trouble.” This is one of those columns. So let’s just get that out of the way; I know my email box is going to be full and I’m going to have county officials yelling at me and Jay (one of the paper partners) is going to turn as white as a ghost and make one of those “concerned” phone calls. Sorry, Jay, but this is important.
I sat through the County Commission meeting on Thursday where Ms. Pamela Swanson and the Dixie County Humane Society made their bid to take over the county animal control budget. I have to say that the Commission did exactly the right thing in tabling that discussion until later. I’m a serious animal junkie myself and I totally sympathize with the frustration that people feel over the current animal control situation here. As Ms. Swanson said in that meeting “People don’t call the county…they know that it is a death sentence.” While I agree that many people might feel that way, it’s not entirely true. I myself have a dog that came out of that pound, one who escaped the death sentence. He escaped with a case of distemper and a permanent twitch, but he did escape, thanks largely to two compassionate county employees who cared enough to save him and Dr. Linda Stoddard, who busted her butt to pull him through. You’d think that a dog dragged from the brink of death would be more grateful and humble. Ha! He insists on sleeping in my bed, like a person, with his head on the pillow, on his back and with his feet (twitching constantly, mind you) all up in the air.
Animal control is a nasty, horrible job. Nobody wants to be the one to confront a vicious owner about his vicious dog or to put puppies to sleep. Nobody. But it’s one of those jobs that, until people start taking responsibility for their own actions and animals, is going to be sadly necessary. It’s also a job that has to be done (at least here) by men with guns and with the authority of the law behind them. As well meaning as I know Ms. Swanson and the Society are, they do not have this authority. They can not tell the biker with the chained-up chow that they’re going to take his dog and charge him with something criminal if his dog breaks loose and attacks the kids at the bus stop one more time. They will not have the physical presence that a cop in uniform commands when dealing with angry, upset, and sometimes violent people.
Good intentions pave the path to you-know-where, and although the Society has the best intentions for the animals at heart, it is obviously not ready to take on all of the responsibilities of animal control. It has no facility, no budget, no employees, and no experience. It is not the responsibility of the county to set Ms. Swanson up with a facility and staff at the taxpayer’s expense. A viable business must be in place before a single taxpayer dollar is handed over. It would be most productive at this time for the Society to focus on its mission of saving animals, and leave the gathering of them to the professionals. The Humane Society takeover fails to meet the two most important standards that have to be asked when privatizing a public service: a) can they do it better? and b) can they do it cheaper? Sadly, the answer to both questions is no.
Some compromise may be possible; perhaps a deal could be struck that all adoptable animals could be transferred to the Humane Society after the legal minimum amount of time. The vicious animals and animals too sick to be adoptable would then remain the responsibility of the county, and the Society would not have the unhappy job of euthanasia or dealing with dangerous dogs or people. The Society could then spend all of its time and resources finding forever homes for the dogs and cats of Dixie County. The county could reduce its animal control budget to compensate for not having to care for and euthanize the healthy animals, and the Humane Society could collect all of those adoption fees, without having the cost of a “dog catcher” salary. It could be a win-win situation.
The Humane Society would, of course, have to obtain a property–in the name of the Society–and build a facility that could be open to the public before such an agreement could be made. It would have to be set up as a non-profit with all the transparency possible to ensure that no person would be profiting from the operation at the expense of the animals. Perhaps grant money is available or a site could be donated. I’m sure that there would be ample volunteers to build and staff it, especially with so many high school students in Dixie who need community service hours. That’s where animal welfare has to start; at home. Providing free or low-cost neutering and spaying is probably the most important thing that can be done by the Humane Society. (Because, although many animal lovers have big hearts, their pocketbooks do not often match.) The county might even come out financially ahead by sponsoring such a program like the low-cost neuter program in Alachua County. Also, encouraging people to adopt instead of buying high-priced purebred dogs from puppy mills and back-yard breeders would be a great step. I’d be happy to design and print any ad campaign for that purpose, with no charge to the Society. I’m sure other business people would step up to help as well.
Dixie County has a small population, but it has some of the most compassionate and charitable people around. This is an issue that can be worked out, without placing money wrested from hard-working taxpayers at jeopardy. Gilchrist and Levy Counties both have vibrant Humane Societies that do not depend on public funding; Dixie should follow their example.