Rescue groups sniff out new homes
Breed-specific organizations spread the word at dog show about saving pooches in need
Dog shows are temples to pure breeding. In recent years in Houston, that has extended to which dogs get rescued — and which ones might be out of luck.
Among the hundreds of exhibitors at the Houston World Series of Dog Shows this week were dozens of breed-specific rescue groups, many of which have started up in the past 15 years. Aside from organizations that take in pit bulls and greyhounds — two breeds that are used for sport and then discarded — there are groups for English bulldogs, cocker spaniels, Great Pyrenees, malamutes, Great Danes, Westies, Yorkies. German shepherds, shelties, shih tzus, Lhasa apsos, poodles, beagles, Pomeranians, boxers, miniature schnauzers. Two groups for collies, and three for dachshunds. The list goes on.
But why specialize if you’re just out to save dogs? Don’t all dogs matter?
There is a certain logic to the system in a place like Houston, which has such a large pet overpopulation problem that thousands are still euthanized each year at the city’s five big shelters (although the city’s pound, BARC, has dramatically reduced its kill rate by sending dogs and cats to Colorado).
Breed-specific rescue groups are able to pull out those that fall in their chosen gene pool, and find them new homes with enthusiasts.
“We try to focus,” says Aletheia Lawry, past president of Dachshund Rescue of Houston. They’ll take the occasional dachsudor or dachsuahua — half Labrador and Chihuahua respectively — but hybrids are the exception rather than the rule. “People who come to us are looking for a more traditional dachshund.”
Adoption costs generally range from $200 for an older dog to $450 for a puppy, which is usually a lot
less than people would pay at a breeder, making rescues an attractive option for those who know what they want.
On top of that, different breeds have different types of health and character issues.
Dachshunds are stubborn and have back problems, for example.
The nearly hairless Chinese cresteds, by contrast, require an intense skin care regimen.
Jennifer Ulmer, who runs Tender Loving Crested Rescue in her spare moments around a day job in IT, has learned how to take care of the infections that the rare breed can get when not cared for properly.
“I’ve spent about $1,000 on him,” says Ulmer, referring to Tickle, who looks like an overgrown rodent.
Crazy about the breed
But perhaps the most important reason for the balkanized dog rescue scene? It’s the same thing that’s happening out in the show ring — people just have their types.
“You’re never going to find people who are crazier about a breed than a pug person,” says Erika Landers, the intake coordinator for Pughearts, whose booth is festooned with lace, ribbons, and pink bowler hats.
Kids play in a pen with the roly poly pooches, tongues lolling out of their mouths. Landers gets one or two calls to take dogs a day, but there are plenty of foster pug-parents eager to take them in. “We don’t have any problems,” she says.
Not all dogs are so lucky — the rescue world has its prejudices.
The handful of all-breed rescue groups in Houston are at capacity, limited by the number of people who want to take care of a dog before it’s adopted permanently. And some are just hard sells.
Lisa Gilchrist, the dog director at Homeless and Orphaned Pets Endeavor, says that small dogs go faster than big ones, lightcolored ones faster than dark ones and young ones faster than old ones.
Pit bulls are the toughest.
“If you’re a large, black bully dog, holy cow, it’s gonna take months,” she says. That’s very different from some of the breedspecific rescues. “Some of these groups have a waiting list for little foo-foo dogs ... Ones that wear things like this,” Gilchrist says, picking up a tiny pink doggie tutu. “The small foo-foo dogs don’t tend to get killed in shelters very much.”
Shelter advocates
Of course, some of them still do.
That’s why humane groups like No Kill Houston advocate for the city and county’s shelters to work harder at fostering out strays or returning them to their owners, along with offering free spaying and neutering to make sure animals don’t end up on the streets in the first place.
Gilchrist is hoping that Phoebe, a scruffy black schnauzer-terrier mix gazing calmly out from her crate at HOPE’s booth, will beat the odds.