Dogged Blog

The spay/neuter vs adoption debate, and why we should stop having it

It never fails. A horrible story hits the Internet, detailing how some "shelter" is killing pretty much every animal who comes in its doors, and often neglecting the pets who were in their care.  The director of the facility is interviewed, and blames it all on the irresponsible public, wrapping it up with the tagline, "Spay and neuter your pets!"

At this point, some no-kill advocate -- frequently me -- leaps into the fray with all the statistics about how most owned dogs and cats are already altered, and how the only segment of the population where there are low rates of spay/neuter is among the pets of low-income people -- most of whom indicate they want to alter their pets, but either can't afford it or can't get to the clinic.

Then someone else starts yammering about how that's not true and they know it because at the "shelter" in their town, kazillions of pets come in every day, and I must be insane to think spay/neuter isn't the answer.

And then I come back with statistics on adoption, and how in most communities adoption, not spay/neuter, is the silver bullet for saving lives, and how spay/neuter will not save the life of one single pet who is already born, and how not one of the dogs and cats in their community's shelter right now can be saved by spay/neuter, and how by focusing endlessly on spay/neuter instead of adoption, all we're doing is giving up on the pets in our shelters today, who we can and must save.

An argument that has the merit of being true, but has nontheless never, ever convinced a single person.

So, I'm really sick of this whole argument. Yes, it's very possible that someone lurking in the threads where these debates take place has his or her eyes opened to the truth, but most likely we're all just in our own echo chamber, singing lustily to our respective choirs.

So instead of singing, let's consider this:

The No-Kill Equation is comprised of 11 proven programs for ending the killing of homeless pets, and has been implemented successfully in more than 80 communities across the country. The No-Kill Equation includes low cost/free, accessible spay/neuter.

For no-kill advocates, all that happens when we frame our pro-adoption message in terms of competing with spay/neuter advocacy is we get labeled "anti-spay/neuter," which is not -- assuming we actually believe it when we say the No-Kill Equation is the answer -- the truth.

And to those individual advocates and pet owners on the "other side" -- by which I mean to exclude those with organizational agendas and vested interests -- you, too, need to stop framing this as being "spay/neuter vs adoption."

Because you say you want to see animals live, right? You tell us you do. It's the whole premise of your advocacy. So when you realize that you don't have to wait until the fairy tale future when all the pets are spayed and neutered to see that day, but you can do it right now by stepping up the adoption game, you should be happy, not pissed off.

Yes, there are people who advocate spay/neuter not to save animal lives, but in order to end pet ownership. They are a tiny minority, and most of them are in leadership roles of organizations and advocacy groups. Many of their supporters who parrot the "spay/neuter is the answer to everything always!" line do not share that view, and while they may not have really thought the whole thing through, truly do want to continue having companion animals in their lives.

And whether or not we want to try to bring these folks into the No-Kill movement, we should at least stop letting our opponents define us and our position. The NKE includes spay/neuter, it is not in opposition to it.

Therefore, the only correct response to a passionate "Spay and neuter!" plea by a sincere animal advocate (not an anti-no-kill troll) is: "Spay/neuter is a tool to reduce future shelter intake, and that's why the No-Kill Equation includes it. But better adoption, pet retention, and return-to-owner practices will save these animals now. Isn't that what you want, too?"

 

Incrementalism, access, and the politics of cupcakes

You say you want a no-kill revolution? Don't assume it won't involve baked goods.

Yes, I'm going to talk about cupcakes, cookies, and donuts -- but in the context of a discussion of incrementalism, and access to decision-makers, and the problems that arise when we get to know people we're trying to influence (or investigate, in the case of journalists).

A couple of months ago, Shirley Thistlewaite of shelter reform watchdog blog Yes Biscuit posted about the immorality of using gifts of baked goods to make nice with the staff at a gassing "shelter."

I don't know anything about the specific situation beyond what I read in Shirley's post, but based on that information, I agree with her completely that this is terrible, pointless advice.  Suggesting someone bring donuts or cookies to a gassing facility would be like telling abolitionists to bring a nice coffee cake to slave traders to try to convince them to explore a different line of work.

But as someone who works with no-kill supporters all the time on how to be more effective in their advocacy, that shouldn't mean we never consider deploying the power of sugar and flour to advance our cause.

I frequently suggest that no-kill advocates take care to appear credible and legitimate to elected officials, government employees, and the media. When appropriate, we need to be able to dress, speak, write, and behave like everyone else who comes before the town council or tries to get an appointment with an agency director or elected official.

Bringing gifts of food to the people who serve as gatekeepers for those individuals is a proven tactic for getting access to them. Everyone does it, from drug company sales reps who bring cupcakes to the secretary of the hospital procurement officer, to the guy who wants the planning commission to approve his condo development and says it with peanut brittle.

Because "everyone does it," it conveys a message that has nothing to do with giving someone a cookie because you approve of what they're doing. It serves as a subtle signal, one they're probably unaware of receiving, that you're legitimate. It puts you in their comfort zone.

There are many ways to do that, and the no-kill movement needs to use them all. Like any other advocate for a cause, we need to figure out the best approach to a given situation, try it, and, if it fails us, try something else. We need to do that as many times as it takes for us to get it right.

We need to look at those who have succeeded in advocating to our target, and adopt their methods.

We also need to do multiple things at the same time -- in other words, taking a good-cop, bad-cop approach, so the nice, friendly advocate with the donuts seems like a much better person to talk to than the 500 certified crazy cat ladies protesting with signs outside the pound.

We need to get our calls answered by the city council, and our stories covered by local media. And to make that happen, we need to be able to lobby professionally when needed, and protest effectively when needed, and do both at the same when needed. Which means we need watchdogs like Shirley to make pound directors cry, and we also need lawyers like FixAustin's Ryan Clinton to put on a suit and talk to the press.

I could wrap this up now with a nice little bow, a pretty package of good advice on how to be a better advocate using both picket signs and donuts, but I'm not going to. Because Shirley's objection to lobbying with baked goods shines a big, bright spotlight on a huge problem all movements for social change, including ours, share, and I want to talk about that even more than I want to talk about deep-fried sugar and flour.

Look back up at the headline on this post: "Incrementalism, access, and the politics of cupcakes."

In public policy terms, "incrementalism" is when we sacrifice big, systemic reforms in favor of smaller, non-systemic reforms or changes. Sometimes we're forced to accept less than we want because we lose a popular vote or are out-politicked. Other times, advocates and activists deliberately choose to seek incremental change, because it's easier and often occurs under the radar, thus not triggering opposition.

Incrementalism is used by both the left and the right in America politics. It's why the religious right focuses on regulating parental consent, tax dollar funding, and third-trimester abortion instead of overturning Roe v. Wade, and it's also why the LGBT movement fought for civil unions instead of marriage equality for so long.

Incrementalism can work, but when it's utilized non-strategically, it carries a poison payload. (I suppose you can tell I'm not a fan.) For instance, take the case of the big mainstream LGBT organizations lobbying for "separate but equal" civil unions. A movement for civil rights should never advocate for inequality; it may be politically expedient, but it's immoral and profoundly confusing. It also damages your credibility in the larger political and social community in which you operate.

However, the real danger is not incremental change itself, which is probably inevitable and can work, but the replacement of a systemic goal with scurrying around putting a bunch of band-aids on a broken system. It's when we drop a concrete, measurable goal like "providing children with a hot lunch at school every day of the year," and replace it with an intangible one, like "fighting poverty" or "empowering the poor."

Don't get me wrong; change usually does happen in increments. If you look at Austin's journey to becoming no-kill, it was done in segments over several years. Ryan Clinton of FixAustin.org spearheaded a political and PR campaign that involved changing the entire make-up of local government, while Austin Pets Alive's Dr. Ellen Jefferson coordinated a step-by-step, data-driven program to save different segments of the population of pets being killed in the city pound.

But at no time were nebulous concepts like "reducing euthanasia" or "making Austin more humane" the goal of the movement. Each incremental change was a well-defined, planned part of a strategy working toward the very specific, system goal of ending the killing of healthy and treatable pets in the city. In other words, as long as you don't confuse the means with the end,  you should be okay.

The other word I used was "access," and this is one I, as a journalist, have had a lot of first-hand experience with.

It's a simple fact of human nature that we find it harder to expose, or oppose, people we have come to know as fellow human beings.

Don't get me wrong; people turn on their friends, family, co-workers, and acquaintances all the time. I am not saying it's impossible. It's just that knowing the names of someone's grandkids does usually make it harder to take them down publicly.

That's why access to the powerful is such a dangerous thing for journalists and activists: We have to fight a very normal human desire to put ourselves in their shoes and see their side of things on an emotional level.

This of course makes for a more civil society, and is probably some kind of evolutionary advantage. But it doesn't make for good investigative journalism, and it can derail a reform movement overnight.

The large animal welfare organizations are all dedicated incrementalists, and they have become emotionally embedded with the people who maintain the status quo. They have been trying to "improve" sheltering for decades now, and in the process have become the biggest enablers of a failed model of animal control, one that cannot help but be dependent on killing the very animals they claim to be trying to help.

The no-kill movement, on the other hand, is not an insider movement, and it's not a movement seeking incremental change. It's like Roosevelt's New Deal or Reagan's "New Morning," a movement for big, fundamental, systemic change. And one of the most effective ways to break that type of movement is to subvert it. To get you inside the system you're trying to change, to make you feel sympathy for the people in that system, and to distract you with little victories that don't add up to the kind of change you were originally working for.

To go back to our original example, that is is why it's both wrong and a mistake to bring cookies to someone who makes a living stuffing living animals into a gas chamber and killing them. You don't want to know that person's grandkids' names; you want to take them down. You can do that more effectively as their enemy than as their friend.

On the other hand, you may very well want to bring donuts to that person's boss at City Hall. That's because you want them to think you're a smart political advocate with a power base, so when you present your 10-point plan for reforming animal control (point 1 of which is firing the pound director's ass), they'll take you seriously.

And that is why donuts can be a good thing, just like wearing a suit and tie, getting your printed materials bound, and creating an organization with a website and mission statement: They buy you credibility and lower the defenses of the people you need to influence.

But you can't forget, as I promise you the guy pitching his condo project to the planning commission never forgets, that your mayor or the head of the department of environmental services is not your friend, nor is she  part of your constituency.

And that's why, even though I don't like seeing the political power of pastry being denigrated, I also recognize it has its problems.

Baked goods, suits and ties, and professional websites are simply tools to gain access to decision-makers, and get them to listen to you. The relationship with that person also is a tool, a tool to achieve your goal. That's why you can't let yourself by compromised by that access, whether through sympathy or something darker that's also part of human nature: a love of power.

In other words, it's fine to bring cupcakes. Just don't drink the kool-aid.

Should we stop charging pet adoption fees?

Shelters and rescue groups typically give two reasons why they need to charge adoption fees for pets: A revenue stream, and to serve as a sort of filter to ensure better, more lasting adoptions by requiring people to cough up some money to bring the pet into their home. Are they right?

Let's look at the two reasons separately.

Revenue

It's true that most shelters and virtually all rescue groups are dependent on adoption fees, in some cases almost exclusively.

But while that's "how it is" in the animal adoption world, it's important to realize that very few non-profits and causes have a retail or fee-style revenue stream. They instead rely on development -- the competent solicitation of donations, bequests, grants, and endowments -- to fund their efforts.

Animal sheltering is a very messy "cause" these days, with a truly chaotic mess of animal control services being provided by both municipal and private organizations, along with a hodgepodge of private shelters that range from chronically starved of funds to wealthy, and rescue groups that run mostly on volunteer power out of foster homes (although a few maintain some sort of kennel or shelter facility).

In the case of municipal shelters, whose mission is not the welfare of animals but public health and safety, it's easy to see why adoption fees are popular. Their success isn't dependent on getting animals adopted; in fact, it's often impeded by adoptions.

Many such agencies don't even operate an adoption program, and either kill the vast majority of the ufortunate pets who come in or, in progressive communities, transfer them to rescue and private shelter partners. (Of course, some municipal agencies are themselves very progressive and run great adoption programs on their own; I'm just taking a look at the spectrum.)

But private organizations that have become dependent on adoption fee revenue are not helping their mission; they're impeding it. If your mission is to get pets adopted, an adoption fee serves as both a financial and a psychological/marketing barrier to success.

In the practical sense, adoption fees take money that an adopter might spend on pet food, grooming, vet services, or supplies and turns it into an up-front cash outlay that might stretch the family's budget to the point where they decide not to adopt.

I know that's going to get the "if you can't afford a pet you shouldn't adopt one" crowd into a frenzy, but hold that thought for the second part of this post.

In the marketing sense, charging money for adoptions, especially anything more than a very small application or processing fee, taints the whole process, and turns it into a retail transaction. It erodes the "feel good" aspect of adoption over other methods of acquiring a pet.

It also perpetuates bad operational practices in the organization itself. Instead of doing what other causes and non-profits do, and raising funds from philanthropic sources, they expect every adoption to pay for itself and even expect some adoptions -- like those of puppies, kittens, and purebred animals -- to subsidize the costs of other pets.

If your mission is to rescue, medically treat, and re-home pets, that mission is good enough that people will donate to support it. And if you want to do retail to support your mission, well... that's why so many organizations run thrift stores, gift shops, galleries, and cafes.

There's nothing wrong with funding your organization through retail (although you need to consult your tax advisor if you go that route), but your mission shouldn't also be a retail operation. Your mission is adoption. Charging for that mission is exactly as if the Red Cross charged people to enter its shelters during a natural disaster, from a marketing or psychological point of view.

People who adopt see themselves as doing a good deed, and they are. From a marketing perspective, we should be able to capitalize on that, not put a price tag on it.

Ensuring better adoptions

Do people who get their pets for free love them less, or return them to the shelter more easily or frequently?

The data we have says no to both. (You can look at some of that data here and here.)

But that's not good enough for many animal advocates. In the last few months, in discussions of fee-waived pet adoptions, I've seen a total rejection of the data on the basis that they simply can't believe it's true, as well as more specific objections based on scenarios not looked at in the studies that might have a different outcome.

While we should always question data, and there's a difference between "nit-picking" and fact-checking, the main thrust of these objections is always that we need to protect animals from suffering and harm by gatekeeping adoptions with a fee.

The obections usually fall into three areas:

1. What if the pet is adopted for free, and because the process doesn't cost money, dog fighters and vivisectionists use it as a free and easy source of animals?
2. What if the pet is adopted for free by a person too poor to pay an adoption fee, and the pet gets sick? If they can't pay the fee, how can they pay the vet bills?
3. And last, we live in a materialistic society, where the value of things is dependent on their cost. Doesn't that automatically mean people won't value their pets if they got them for free?

Let's start with number one: People getting free pets to do bad things to them.

First, no one has suggested doing away with the adoption counseling/screening process. It is simply cost-prohibitive for anyone interested in large numbers of disposable animals to go through all that time to obtain one single pet.

If your municpal agency is handing pets over without screening or in bulk for laboratory experimentation, or selling them out the back door to dogfighters -- yes, these things happen -- then that is not an adoption fee problem. It's a deep, systemic problem that requires reform at the local political level. Charging or not charging an adoption fee will have no impact on those problems, and any attempt to link the two is either misguided or disingenuous.

Let's look at number two: Poor people who can't afford an adoption fee won't be able to care properly for the pet.

This is probably not true in most cases. Poor people are just the same as wealthy people in their capacity for love and empathy, and will often do extraordinary things for an actual animal they have come to love, even if they have trouble finding the money for a hypothetical animal they have never met.

But let's say it was true. I don't think it matters in a society where half of all dogs and cats who come into shelters are killed because of homelessness. Isn't it better to let the pet have a chance, than condemn that pet (or some other pet further back in the pipeline) to death?

Sure, maybe the pet would be put to sleep later anyway, if he or she has an illness the owner can't afford to treat. But maybe the pet won't get sick. Maybe he or she will be extremely old when they do.

And maybe that rich couple with the late model SUV who adopted a pet from you last year is in bankruptcy this year. If the last few years have taught us anything, it's that economic forces are powerful and unpredictable, both on a societal and individual level.

Is this really a rational reason to deny a lifesaving adoption?

Finally, let's look at the idea that people don't value pets they haven't paid for.

We know this is not true because of the data that exists on this topic, looking at pets acquired for free at special adoption events.

We also know it's not true because the single category of pet least likely to end up in a shelter is a pet given as a gift.

And every one of us involved in rescue should know it's not true because we have houses full of pets we got for free, who we'd do anything for. I certainly never loved my free pets less than my adoption-fee or breeder-obtained pets. I never spent less money on them, treated them less well, or fought less fiercely to save them from illness and injury.

And really, by that logic, pets from puppy mill outlets should be considered the most precious of all, as they cost the most to obtain. Do you believe that to be true? I didn't think so.

What I'm saying is this: Organizations should seriously question whether or not adoption fees are interfering with the fulfillment of their mission.

They should ask themselves if they've become so dependent on an adoption-fee revenue stream that they've overlooked other, more appropriate, methods of obtaining funds for their work.

And they should absolutely look into their hearts and ask if the size of someone's bank account, or the price tag on the pet, is really what they think should and does define "value" in the human-pet relationship, or if they are letting economic prejudice cloud their judgment.

 

My mama and Obama

Election Day four years ago, my mother stood with me on 19th Avenue in San Francisco, holding a "No on Prop 8" sign. Earlier in the day, she'd made get out the vote calls for the Obama campaign. The two of us sat together that night watching the returns come in, and she cried with happiness that Obama was elected, and with sadness that Prop 8 passed.

All that long, bitter campaign season she'd been getting treatment for stomach lymphoma. She went to her radiation appointments wearing a "Women for Obama" button that my friend Dawn in Michigan had sent her, and she always told me stories afterward of the other patients, techs, and nurses who were so excited by his candidacy. She was so happy, so involved, so alive.

On Inauguration Day, she was having a mastectomy for the breast cancer they discovered during the post-radiation scan after treating her lymphoma. I watched the ceremony on the television in the hospital waiting room. Her first words to me in the recovery room were, "Is he President?" I was so happy to be able to tell her yes.

It's so hard to believe that now, just four years later, she's been dead for over three years.

I miss you so much, Mama.