How Much Is That Doggie in the Window?
Dogs at L.A.'s animal shelters are now auctioned off for as much as $1,000 a pooch
By Annette Stark
When Lance Mancuso promised his 11-year-old daughter a new puppy last Christmas, he never imagined that he would end up paying $1,000 for a stray dog at a city shelter. Almost a year later, the former Studio City resident still describes the experience as "a nightmare."
Like many Southern Californians, Mancuso felt "it was wrong" to buy a pet from a breeder or a puppy mill. So, one day before Christmas, he showed up to adopt a six-month-old Saint Bernard he had seen at the East Valley Shelter. "They told me that it wouldn't be available 'til the day after Christmas, even though it had already been there more than a week. I said, 'I'll be back,' and they said, 'Get here early.'"
Two days later, Mancuso was "racing to get there at six a.m." He was the first one on line and for three hours watched the crowd grow to over 20 people. Eventually, Mancuso learned that the two men behind him had found the Saint Bernard and brought it to the shelter, which meant that they had first rights. He stayed anyway for a boxer puppy. At nine, a shelter employee came out and announced, "If you're here for the boxer puppies, go to the back and put your name in. We'll be auctioning them." The crowd rushed to the back where another employee announced that the bidding would start at $140.
Mancuso was shocked, but he didn't want to let his daughter down. When the bidding escalated to $800, he shouted, "I'll pay a thousand!" The puppy was his.
For days, Mancuso rationalized that he had promised his daughter and "couldn't lie to her." But later, recounting the fiasco at a meeting of the Studio City Neighborhood Council where he was a member, Mancuso learned that this shelter policy was completely unknown. "Some people said, 'You paid a thousand dollars for a shelter dog? Why didn't you just go to a store?'" he says.
"When I first heard about Lance's situation I was in shock," recalls animal activist Charlotte Laws, Ph.D., member of the Greater Valley Glen Council and a longtime advocate for no-kill L.A. shelters. "The goal of animal services in my view is to help the animals. It shouldn't be to auction them off to get the most amount of money. It puts the emphasis in the wrong place. Time and energy should not be spent that way."
Laws isn't alone. Many activists were stunned to hear about this practice. "I have been in the animal protection field for well over a decade, and I have never heard of a system whereby unwanted animals are auctioned off to a highest bidder," remarks Daphna Nachminovitch, director of Domestic Animal and Wildlife Rescue & Information for People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA). "Treating animals like auction items - up for bid as if they were inanimate objects, merchandise - perpetuates the throwaway mentality that lands millions of animals in our nation's shelters each year. It's counterproductive to the extreme."
Others say they had known and had opposed it. Animal Defense League (ADL) founder Pamelyn Ferdin says that she and others had fought the auctions at meetings with the Board of Animal Services Commissioners in 2004. In fact, copies of the minutes from a March meeting of the Board indicate that: "Ferdin feels that the auction process sends the wrong message to the public that not all animals and breeds are worthy of adoption."
"It's unethical, immoral, and racist," says Ferdin. "It discriminates against poor people. And a lot of really nice people said they would not go to an auction ever again."
Even those who don't see the policy as racist still say there are plenty of reasons to object. "Auctions discriminate against everybody who can't afford to be the high bidder, having nothing to do with racism," says Jim Bickhart, who is associate director of transportation and also serves as the mayor's staff member responsible for animal services. "I don't think auctions are biased in any way, other than they are biased as to who can afford."
"The good thing is that we have so many puppies," argues Karen Knipscheer, commander of the Departmental Air Rescue Team (DART) and Los Angeles Animal Services (LAAS) spokesperson. "If they don't get the one at the auction, there's always another one behind that." Like others we spoke with, Knipscheer had thought that the auctions were limited to "the cutest purebred dogs." She was surprised when we told her that we had witnessed mixed-breed puppies auctioned for as much as $300.
It would help if LAAS was more proactive in convincing people to take the older dogs, Ferdin insists. "Some people might not realize that they don't want to train a puppy and that it might tear up the furniture, but if the shelter was serious about people adopting older dogs, they would have a meet-and-greet table, like they do in New York. We have secret shoppers going in to the shelters and all they hear is 'the dogs are back there.'"
Full disclosure: this reporter became aware of the practice, like many, while attempting to adopt an eight-week-old Shepherd mix at the East Valley Shelter in North Hollywood. We were the only ones there when the shelter opened at nine, and we got the puppy. Minutes later, an employee rushed out and said, "You can't have it. That's the TV dog. Come back at 12." Apparently, that puppy had been featured on the morning news.
We returned at noon and, again, we got the dog, as well as half the paperwork completed. While the puppy was in the back, being checked for Parvo, a woman rushed in and said, "I want that dog. I'll do anything it takes to get that dog." At that point, we bowed out.
Truthfully, it wasn't as bad as Mancuso's "nightmare," but it wasn't a process you'd be eager to repeat. On return trips to the auction, however, I watched families drop out of the bidding while pets flew out the door for $300 a pup. One family bought two. The policy, it turns out, is actually mandated by law; a point that is made amply clear on the LAAS website that states if two or more people show up to adopt the same dog, an auction will be held. Many say overturning the policy rests entirely with the Board of Animal Services Commissioners.
"It's a department policy," explains Knipscheer, insisting that most shelter personnel don't even agree with it. "I talked to [Commision] Commander [David] Diliberto this morning and he said that he has asked the Commission to change it on two separate times, and they said no."
Ferdin questions how the Commission could continue to ignore the issues, such as poor families sometimes having to bid against wealthy private rescue foundations. "When [private foundations] see a dog that they consider to be gorgeous, they want that dog. There was one purebred Maltese, and they went to the auction and said they would do anything to get that dog."
Teri Austin, who heads the nonprofit Amanda Foundation, admits bidding against private owners at shelter auctions when she thought that "the person bidding could not take care of the animal." Austin supports auctions and expressed the belief held by many that the auction profits go to animal care. But, according to Knipscheer, "the auction money goes into the general fund. It does not go back to the shelters."
"I don't have a great process," Knipscheer admits. "Somebody mentioned bingo this morning, a number in a hat. Yes, maybe that is a lot fairer, but people would still be unhappy because they're not getting the animal."
Bickhart agrees that the lottery is a good idea ("When 20 people show up for one dog, everyone could take a number"), but thinks that state law might prohibit it.
To Ferdin, who has been lobbying to have the entire L.A. shelter system revamped, it's obvious. "It should just be first-come, first-served," she says.
Published: 09/15/2005
Dogs at L.A.'s animal shelters are now auctioned off for as much as $1,000 a pooch
By Annette Stark
When Lance Mancuso promised his 11-year-old daughter a new puppy last Christmas, he never imagined that he would end up paying $1,000 for a stray dog at a city shelter. Almost a year later, the former Studio City resident still describes the experience as "a nightmare."
Like many Southern Californians, Mancuso felt "it was wrong" to buy a pet from a breeder or a puppy mill. So, one day before Christmas, he showed up to adopt a six-month-old Saint Bernard he had seen at the East Valley Shelter. "They told me that it wouldn't be available 'til the day after Christmas, even though it had already been there more than a week. I said, 'I'll be back,' and they said, 'Get here early.'"
Two days later, Mancuso was "racing to get there at six a.m." He was the first one on line and for three hours watched the crowd grow to over 20 people. Eventually, Mancuso learned that the two men behind him had found the Saint Bernard and brought it to the shelter, which meant that they had first rights. He stayed anyway for a boxer puppy. At nine, a shelter employee came out and announced, "If you're here for the boxer puppies, go to the back and put your name in. We'll be auctioning them." The crowd rushed to the back where another employee announced that the bidding would start at $140.
Mancuso was shocked, but he didn't want to let his daughter down. When the bidding escalated to $800, he shouted, "I'll pay a thousand!" The puppy was his.
For days, Mancuso rationalized that he had promised his daughter and "couldn't lie to her." But later, recounting the fiasco at a meeting of the Studio City Neighborhood Council where he was a member, Mancuso learned that this shelter policy was completely unknown. "Some people said, 'You paid a thousand dollars for a shelter dog? Why didn't you just go to a store?'" he says.
"When I first heard about Lance's situation I was in shock," recalls animal activist Charlotte Laws, Ph.D., member of the Greater Valley Glen Council and a longtime advocate for no-kill L.A. shelters. "The goal of animal services in my view is to help the animals. It shouldn't be to auction them off to get the most amount of money. It puts the emphasis in the wrong place. Time and energy should not be spent that way."
Laws isn't alone. Many activists were stunned to hear about this practice. "I have been in the animal protection field for well over a decade, and I have never heard of a system whereby unwanted animals are auctioned off to a highest bidder," remarks Daphna Nachminovitch, director of Domestic Animal and Wildlife Rescue & Information for People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA). "Treating animals like auction items - up for bid as if they were inanimate objects, merchandise - perpetuates the throwaway mentality that lands millions of animals in our nation's shelters each year. It's counterproductive to the extreme."
Others say they had known and had opposed it. Animal Defense League (ADL) founder Pamelyn Ferdin says that she and others had fought the auctions at meetings with the Board of Animal Services Commissioners in 2004. In fact, copies of the minutes from a March meeting of the Board indicate that: "Ferdin feels that the auction process sends the wrong message to the public that not all animals and breeds are worthy of adoption."
"It's unethical, immoral, and racist," says Ferdin. "It discriminates against poor people. And a lot of really nice people said they would not go to an auction ever again."
Even those who don't see the policy as racist still say there are plenty of reasons to object. "Auctions discriminate against everybody who can't afford to be the high bidder, having nothing to do with racism," says Jim Bickhart, who is associate director of transportation and also serves as the mayor's staff member responsible for animal services. "I don't think auctions are biased in any way, other than they are biased as to who can afford."
"The good thing is that we have so many puppies," argues Karen Knipscheer, commander of the Departmental Air Rescue Team (DART) and Los Angeles Animal Services (LAAS) spokesperson. "If they don't get the one at the auction, there's always another one behind that." Like others we spoke with, Knipscheer had thought that the auctions were limited to "the cutest purebred dogs." She was surprised when we told her that we had witnessed mixed-breed puppies auctioned for as much as $300.
It would help if LAAS was more proactive in convincing people to take the older dogs, Ferdin insists. "Some people might not realize that they don't want to train a puppy and that it might tear up the furniture, but if the shelter was serious about people adopting older dogs, they would have a meet-and-greet table, like they do in New York. We have secret shoppers going in to the shelters and all they hear is 'the dogs are back there.'"
Full disclosure: this reporter became aware of the practice, like many, while attempting to adopt an eight-week-old Shepherd mix at the East Valley Shelter in North Hollywood. We were the only ones there when the shelter opened at nine, and we got the puppy. Minutes later, an employee rushed out and said, "You can't have it. That's the TV dog. Come back at 12." Apparently, that puppy had been featured on the morning news.
We returned at noon and, again, we got the dog, as well as half the paperwork completed. While the puppy was in the back, being checked for Parvo, a woman rushed in and said, "I want that dog. I'll do anything it takes to get that dog." At that point, we bowed out.
Truthfully, it wasn't as bad as Mancuso's "nightmare," but it wasn't a process you'd be eager to repeat. On return trips to the auction, however, I watched families drop out of the bidding while pets flew out the door for $300 a pup. One family bought two. The policy, it turns out, is actually mandated by law; a point that is made amply clear on the LAAS website that states if two or more people show up to adopt the same dog, an auction will be held. Many say overturning the policy rests entirely with the Board of Animal Services Commissioners.
"It's a department policy," explains Knipscheer, insisting that most shelter personnel don't even agree with it. "I talked to [Commision] Commander [David] Diliberto this morning and he said that he has asked the Commission to change it on two separate times, and they said no."
Ferdin questions how the Commission could continue to ignore the issues, such as poor families sometimes having to bid against wealthy private rescue foundations. "When [private foundations] see a dog that they consider to be gorgeous, they want that dog. There was one purebred Maltese, and they went to the auction and said they would do anything to get that dog."
Teri Austin, who heads the nonprofit Amanda Foundation, admits bidding against private owners at shelter auctions when she thought that "the person bidding could not take care of the animal." Austin supports auctions and expressed the belief held by many that the auction profits go to animal care. But, according to Knipscheer, "the auction money goes into the general fund. It does not go back to the shelters."
"I don't have a great process," Knipscheer admits. "Somebody mentioned bingo this morning, a number in a hat. Yes, maybe that is a lot fairer, but people would still be unhappy because they're not getting the animal."
Bickhart agrees that the lottery is a good idea ("When 20 people show up for one dog, everyone could take a number"), but thinks that state law might prohibit it.
To Ferdin, who has been lobbying to have the entire L.A. shelter system revamped, it's obvious. "It should just be first-come, first-served," she says.
Published: 09/15/2005
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