Televised Pet Euthanasia Tried Elsewhere, But Don't Expect To See It Here - Again

Last August, Sheriff BJ Barnes of Guilford County, N.C., decided it was time to capture the public's attention in a high-profile manner.

The runaway animal-overpopulation problem was eating away at him, and he was unable to stem the rising tide of incoming cats and dogs in the county's tiny shelter.

Barnes decided to make a bold and controversial move - euthanizing a nameless 3-year-old, 35-pound collie on public-access television - and was prepared for the worst.

"I wanted to shock folks into realizing what was happening at their shelter," Barnes said, in Animal Sheltering magazine November-December 1998.

He had taken over the operation only two months earlier and sought to send a vitally important message, chiefly out of frustration.

"The shelter tried all the other educational tools - TV and radio talk shows, public-service announcements, brochures, Pet of the Week, etc.

"Everything they could do, they had done. And (the situation) wasn't getting any better. It was getting worse," he said.

Finally, he invited cameras to the facility to film a short segment for his weekly cable-access "Sheriff's Beat" show. Throughout the 20-minute presentation, workers addressed the importance of pet sterilization, showcased improvements that were being made at the facility and detailed adoption procedures.

The show eventually progressed to a point where, during a 15-second clip, viewers saw the effect of a lethal injection to the collie. It began with an attendant removing the needle from the dog's leg vein, then the dog quickly lost consciousness and sunk into the arms of a shelter worker.

The North Carolina county sheriff was uncertain how the residents of Greensboro would respond.

"The morning after the show, I went to the shelter," he said in the Animal Sheltering account, "before the doors opened, to find people waiting outside, cars on each side of the road, the parking lot completely full.

"I said to my wife, `Either I'm going to be hung or these people are here to adopt animals.' When I got out of my car, three people immediately came out and hugged me, saying they appreciated what I'd done."

The adoption rate increased 300 percent and eventually leveled off to about 70 percent above previous levels. Even more important, area veterinarians noticed a dramatic increase in the number of owners bringing in pets for spaying and neutering.

Following the video dramatics, many shelters, according to Barnes, have requested copies of the video and sought information about the after-shock relative to adoption and sterilization surgeries.

He acknowledges that a comparable telecast isn't suited for every community. In fact, it could backfire dramatically, Barnes concedes, and paint the agency's portrait as little more than an executioner.

"It's a last resort," he said. Since then, each "Sheriff's Beat" show concludes with weekly statistics on the number of animals adopted and total euthanized at the shelter.

"I didn't mean to be a poster child for spay/neuter," he explained, "but it was the right thing to do and that's why we did it."

Late last year, animal-control authorities in tiny Nevada County, Calif., televised a documentary showing the euthanasia of six stray dogs and cats at the Grass Valley shelter.

Again, it was telecast over the local public-access channel. "Killing Shelter Animals: The Shame and Failure of a Community" featured a disclaimer, warning parents that the viewing might not be suitable for children.

It drew a giant outcry from the public beforehand, prompting Cheryl Tufts, one of six animal-control officers, to say, "I'd rather deal with 100 angry calls about this show than euthanize another dog or cat. Every owner of an unaltered pet needs to work the gas chamber. Then need to see what happens."

Such dramatics in the freeway of communication can be fraught with potholes, however. It certainly won't play in Seattle or Tacoma anytime soon, according to three local animal-control chiefs.

Don Jordan of Seattle Animal Control, says, "While we view euthanasia as part of our responsibility, we strive to keep it to a minimum. It never gets any easier.

"It would be very upsetting for the general public to see something like that on television. It would be a public-relations blunder for the agency and probably wouldn't attract a new sense of awareness for those who would really need to see it.

"We're approaching all of our programs in a positive manner. The public has listened and grasped our messages the past decade."

These include major license-fee differentials for sterilized and unaltered animals, health benefits of getting your pet spayed or neutered and the consequences of free-roaming, unsterilized pets.

In attempting to be owner-friendly, the division has established state-of-the-art programs such as providing short-term shelter for the pets of domestic-violence victims and foster homes for shelter animals.

Vicki Schmitz, manager of King County Licensing and Regulatory Services Division and the overseer of animal control, says a public telecast of pet euthanasia hasn't been addressed by agency officials.

"We've managed to dramatically lower the euthanasia totals for healthy animals in the '90s, but we still have plenty more public education to do."

Last year, King County Animal Control euthanized 6,572 cats and dogs. Of those, only 59 dogs and 81 cats were healthy and adoptable. The remainder were old, injured or had behavioral problems.

Jeanne Werner, Tacoma-Pierce County Humane Society manager, has not considered taking the pet-overpopulation message to television in that context.

"I wouldn't want to place my staff in that position," she says. "It's one of the most difficult duties some of them have to perform, let alone be featured on public television. It would be an invasion of their privacy, simply because the agency wanted to drive home a point.

"Those who don't want to face up to this reality will blame it on the humane society anyway, rather than on those who bring us their unwanted pets year after year with every excuse imaginable."

Tacoma-Pierce County's "healthy-pet euthanasia totals" plummeted to their lowest in recent decades four years ago, but have headed upward again.

"We don't have an answer for this turn-around," says Werner, "but it reinforces that you can never become too complacent in this business."

The North Carolina video wasn't the first of its kind, however. A similar "wake-up call" was performed by the Peninsula Humane Society in San Mateo, Calif., nine years ago, raising the emotional temperature of pet owners both in the Bay Area and nationally.

Shortly afterward, Progressive Animal Welfare Society of Lynnwood produced a similar video, which aired on local newscasts and preceded a KOMO-TV "Town Meeting" telecast.

"People needed to see it," says Mitchell Fox, former PAWS director of animal advocacy. "They thought putting an animal to sleep was such a peaceful procedure. They needed to know what goes on beyond closed doors and how difficult it is for those involved."

The video and a print advertisement with a barrel full of dead dogs and cats became lightning rods for a heated debate surrounding pet-overpopulation legislation.

While they drew a predictable public outcry, the videos (three versions were filmed) proved popular vehicles for other animal-control and animal-welfare agencies nationwide. "We had dozens of requests for them," Fox recalls.

PAWS, however, often on the cutting edge of animal-welfare technology, was the first to air a pet-euthanasia video on the open market.

In 1971, two independent Seattle filmmakers, Robert Brown and Frank Olvey, made a 10-minute film titled "PAWS" to get the animal-welfare organization's message across to the public.

"It was filmed on Christmas Eve," says Virginia Knouse, PAWS founder.

The film began as "celebration of life," said Wayne Johnson, then-Seattle Times arts and entertainment editor, in a May 23, 1971, review. Although "there is an affecting sadness in the scenes, even in the feisty antics of the pups, because all the dogs are seen through the bars of the cages. All are full of life and all are cut off from experiencing the fullness of life."

But eventually the short documentary turns to the horror of death.

Johnson describes the scenario: "A brown dog is carried (by a PAWS worker who wordlessly communicates his deep concern and compassion) and placed on a counter. A needle is thrust into the dog's foreleg and almost immediately the dog goes limp.

"And as it does, the color drains from the film, and the print becomes black and white. It is a horrifying, agonizing moment.

"After a few more moments, the PAWS worker picks up the dead dog and deposits it gently in a big metal trash barrel. The film cuts to a shot of hundreds of similar barrels, and then it shows barrels full of dead animals being dumped out. It is ugly, terrifying and terrifying real.

"The film then cuts back to a close-up of a magnificently beautiful white cat - again caged. The wonder and beauty of life - and the warmth and joy a pet can bring - are expressed in the final frames showing the white cat.

"There is not a word spoken in the short film. But the visual images and accompanying music speak volumes: eloquent, deeply affecting volumes."

The response was enormous, Knouse recalls. "We had the predictable public complaints like `How could you show something like that in public?' But animal-control organizations throughout the country ordered copies to get their message out. It was truly a film before its time."

Service dogs

If you're interested in reaching the National Service Dog Center featured in last Sunday's column, phone 800-869-6898. The Web site is www.deltasociety.org.and e-mail is nsdc@compuserve .com Information on service dogs is available by addressing the National Service Dog Center, 289 Perimeter Road E., Renton 98055-1329.

National search

Purina Dog Chow is searching for America's most incredible dog - and it might just be in your back yard.

You can submit an entry on behalf of your canine via the mail or Internet, by sending one recent color or black-and-white photo of any size that illustrates the animal's incredible qualities, characteristics, behaviors and relationships with you. Along with the photo, write an essay of 100 words or less beginning with the phrase: "My dog is America's Most Incredible Dog because . . . "

To enter via the Internet, visit the Purina Dog Chow Web site at www.dogchow.com and complete the personal profile section. Then e-mail your essay along with a scan of your photo as directed.

For official contest rules and complete entry requirements, call 800-609-7227 or visit the Web site.

Entrants can send in as many entries as they like, but all must be postmarked no later than April 30.

Five finalists will be honored in Washington, D.C., July 2, where the winner will be announced. The top prize is $10,000, a trophy and a lifetime supply of the pet food.

Holbrook is winner

Bill Holbrook of Sequim, longtime American Kennel Club field supervisor, was named winner of the coveted Langdon Skarda Award recently in Louisville, Ky.

Holbrook became the fifth recipient of the honor, named after of the late highly respected Clovis, N.M., all-breed judge and German shepherd breeder.

It is presented annually to the person, organization or dog that has quietly given of his/her/its time to the dog fancy without any expectation of recognition.

"Many awards in the dog fancy end up being popularity contests," says Denny Kodner of Bonita Springs, Fla., one of the award's 12 founders and a judge in the contest. "But this goes to a very deserving individual or dog and has quickly become a very prestigious award."

Holbrook received a relief plaque of the $5,000 bronze trophy housed in the AKC Dog Museum in St. Louis.