The Butcher…

The Baker…

The Alcatraz Maker

Long time ago, in a land far, far away, there lived some street dogs. The locals called them “Neighborhood Dogs” since they were usually born there; they lived, and died in the same neighborhood, from where they rarely strayed away. They knew everything there was to know about the neighborhood, and its inhabitants. Where to get food from, whom to avoid, and most importantly how to behave, so that they could continue to be part of the community and keep on living there without major complications. The majority of people did not mind having them around; in fact these dogs became an integral part of society. Dog bites, as well as epidemics, were rare; dog attacks or “death by dog” was unheard of.

Nature kept tabs on them, and through attrition and natural elimination, held their numbers at a manageable and reasonable level. Of course there were some overzealous municipalities, which wanted to outdo nature, and enforce their own ways of controlling the dog population. But these dogs were fast learners and adapted quickly. On dog shooting days, after the first shot was fired, the chances of finding an elephant to shoot in the middle of the city were higher than finding any of these dogs. They just disappeared from the face of the earth, until things had calmed down again. In one case, the neighborhood started shooting back, which ended all dog shootings in that part of the woods. Poison days were not much different. First of all, any second generation - and up - dog, had already learned the smell of the various poisons, got familiar with the people distributing them, and thus stayed away from traps like the plague… and since children playing on streets as well as household cats were getting poisoned instead, locals, who were well aware of “poison days”, usually removed the traps the moment the disposal crew had left the scene.

In actual fact municipal methods turned out to be so ineffective, that it was established that far more dogs died from being hit by cars, than by municipal intervention.

For obvious reasons, these dogs were well acquainted with the butcher and the baker… but had yet to meet the “Alcatraz maker”. They were in for a rude awakening.

The “Alcatraz maker” came in the form of a “Crusader for Animal Rights and Welfare”, from a foreign place, to a country he was alien to, and into a society he had not studied well enough. Maybe well intentioned and enthusiastic… but definitely naïve, if not arrogant. Up to this point the neighborhoods, the authorities, and the dogs had been co-existing in a way that had passed the test of time. This, however was to change soon, and the suffering of a few, would turn into the agony of the many.

At the heart of this so-called “Welfare Project” was the “developed” notion that street dogs are a nuisance, a danger to the public, carriers of diseases, and are suffering tremendously at the hands of humans and nature. As described above, in this particular case, nothing was farther from the truth. This was a land, which had never heard of pounds before and was not equipped from a social, technical, as well as know-how point of view to introduce them, and to deal with them on a major basis. Nevertheless, the “Alcatraz maker” was convincing, and in a short time government land was provided at the outskirts of a major city, and a dog pound to house thousands of dogs was erected in no time. At its peak it held captive more than 3200 dogs.

Attitudes started to change with it. Municipalities, which now found an easy way out, started rounding up dogs, became more proficient in catching them, and ended up dumping them at this “facility” by the hundreds. The dogs started changing, too. The loss of freedom, and the lack of co-existence with humans changed the social and survival skills they had acquired and honed delicately over centuries, for the worse. Trust turned into fear, fear turned into anger, wisdom turned into panic. The “Alcatraz” became overwhelmed quickly, and serious food shortages; as well as never before seen health and behavior problems started to emerge, and reached out-of-control proportions.

The “Alcatraz maker” however was adamant that things were improving. His shrewd marketing skills caused municipalities to consider opening their own pounds, and with a minimum capacity of 500 dogs per pound, things started to deteriorate even faster throughout the land.

Neighborhoods on the other hand, based on the marketing hype, were thinking that their dogs were moving to “Dog Club Meds”. That is until real animal lovers started to make some noise, and the media started to investigate – including allegations that some of the dogs were shipped out of the country to labs as guinea pigs. Other, more effective and more suitable solutions were brought forward by the voice of reason, the most important one being TNR [Trap-Neuter-Release]. The house of cards started shaking; the shining armour developed chinks, and one night a large group of people went to “Alcatraz”, tore down the walls, and released all the dogs. Short of tar and feathers the “Alcatraz maker” was sent packing, and this spectacle was brought to a definite end.

Such a strong reaction by the public caused some real concern in municipal circles, which started weighing their options again. Realizing that TNR is a much cheaper and humane method, based on the circumstances and conditions of this land, they quickly took up this option. Now, when you do visit most major cities in this land, you will see street dogs with a yellow tab on their ears, showing that they have been sterilized and released back into the community they came from.

This article is not to undermine the laws and conditions in Canada. Apparently long ago the people have spoken, laws and regulations have been set, and pounds - as well as spay & neuter – have become a fact of life. Street dogs became an extinct species… pounds became the norm, and apparently society prefers to keep it that way… and I am not one to judge it.

My point here is that everything is relative. What works in one culture and community, may not be an effective and acceptable solution in another. To those budding “Alcatraz makers” of tomorrow though, I do have a word of advice. Before even thinking of rushing out to save the dogs in Timbuktu, take a good look at your own backyard first. Chances are there is lots of room for improvement there, before venturing out into uncharted – and possibly unwelcome - territory.

Otherwise there is a strong possibility that figuratively or literally…

The walls will come tumbling down.