The mahogany mixed breed in kennel four was losing his mind. It’s dumping rain, and the wind is approaching jet speed, but the big blocky-headed dog can’t wait to get outside. Because the only thing worse than getting pummeled and bone-cold soaked is sitting alone in a cage, desperate for your next contact with another living being — at least a bathroom break.
At Berkeley Animal Care Services, the city’s open-admissions shelter, the stream of incoming animals is unending. And Berkeley’s not alone. Oakland’s municipal shelter, designed to hold 73 large dogs, regularly reports it’s well into triple digits. Contra Costa is equally crowded, as are our counties around the state. Our national shelter system is in crisis.
Yet puppy production continues unabated, including by self-described ethical breeders. Some maintain such breeding is necessary due to the scarcity of family-appropriate dogs in shelters. As a long-time volunteer, I find this claim ridiculous. But the argument I hear even more often is: Why shouldn’t people be able to acquire exactly the look, age or breed of dog they want?
My answer: Because animals aren’t toasters. They aren’t commodities whose only value lies in how they benefit people. The surplus doesn’t sit cheerfully on a shelf until someone buys it. So, as ethical breeders and ethical humans, don’t we have a responsibility to care for the living animals languishing or in outright distress in shelters before we demand — and supply — more? And if it’s permissible for some people to buy from breeders, whose responsibility is it to adopt?
No question, intentional breeding is not the only issue here — not by a long shot. From the socio-economic disparity that leads to surplus pets to the lack of education about how to live harmoniously with another species, there’s no shortage of contributing factors. And then there’s the widespread under-resourcing of city shelters where caring for unwanted animals — literally, ensuring basic needs are met — falls heavily on the people the city doesn’t even pay: volunteers.
Still, a pause in breeding and a call to consider adoption can help. If what’s important is a loyal companion and modeling respect and compassion for animals, can’t we let go of a custom-made pet — at least until we make a dent in the shelter population? Do we not owe it to those dogs, especially the ones who’ll lose their lives simply because shelters are full, to promote adoption before intentionally breeding more for sale?
This doesn’t mean overselling or under-simplifying any pet’s behavior or health issues on the adoption floor. No one should be tricked or talked into bringing home an animal they aren’t equipped or prepared for (a disservice to both species). And sadly, there are those pets who arrive at the shelter unsafe for adoption and for whom euthanasia is the most humane outcome. But far from the majority.
So, as ethical members of one of the most civic-minded communities in the country — and with area shelters overflowing — we must ask: How do we justify commodifying animals to the degree that we ignore or discard the ones who aren’t made to order? I don’t have the answer. I just know that each night leaving the shelter, I struggle to make eye contact with the faces in the kennels, knowing they know it’s an unending stretch before the next walk or pet or bathroom break. I understand that not everyone would be in a home if not for breeders. But for those who would be, I’m heartbroken.
Leslie Smith is a writer and founder of the enrichment program at Berkeley Animal Care Services.
