Why the steep price hikes? Chris Green, an attorney and member of the American Veterinary Medical Law Association, says vets are happily obliging owners who want to keep their pets alive at all costs. That means paying up for the latest high-tech procedures, such as feline kidney transplants and CAT scans. There are also more aged pets today, which require more care.

2. "Vaccinating your pet may do more harm than good."
For years the primary reason for seeing a vet was to get your pet vaccinated against a host of diseases ranging from distemper to rabies - either with individual vaccinations or "combo wombo" shots that could cover seven separate conditions.

Indeed, annual vaccinations have been an economic bulwark for many vet practices, but some veterinarians say they're not only unnecessary, but they can actually be harmful in some cases. Marty Goldstein, a veterinarian in South Salem, N.Y., says he sees a range of vaccination-related reactions in animals, everything from cancerous sarcomas to epilepsy. Another reason to think twice about certain vaccines: The immunity provided by some of them can last well beyond a year, even as long as the pet's lifetime, Goldstein says, negating the need for some annual shots.

Both the AVMA and the American Animal Hospital Association now say vaccinations should be assessed yearly and tailored to an animal's age, health and lifestyle. For example, an indoor cat with limited exposure to some diseases may not ever need certain common vaccinations, says W. Jean Dodds, an immunologist and veterinarian with Hemopet in Garden Grove, Calif.

3. "I have more complaints filed against me than a used-car lot - not that you'll ever know about it."
When she picked up her kitten, Pumpkin, from the veterinarian after a routine spaying, Mount Pleasant, S.C., resident Marcia Rosenberg was stunned to find the cat nearly comatose. Soon Pumpkin's body was wracked with seizures, and her stomach swelled. Rosenberg rushed Pumpkin to another vet, who saved the cat, but the distraught owner called her state's veterinary board to complain. Told that the board had no procedure for alerting consumers about disciplinary actions taken against incompetent vets, Rosenberg mounted a successful campaign to have such actions posted on the South Carolina veterinary board's web site.

Tracking complaints against vets often requires a bit of detective work. Some state veterinary boards list disciplinary actions against vets, while others do not. And complaints typically aren't disclosed until a board investigation and judicial ruling have determined a case of wrongdoing. On her own, Rosenberg says she was able to find that the vet had previously had his license suspended in Ohio and since then had more than a dozen complaints against him in South Carolina.

4. "Sure, I can do root canal on your pup - real dentists are for people."
When John James, an academic adviser in Los Angeles, took his geriatric cockapoo, Amber, to his veterinarian for a chipped tooth, the vet told him his dog needed a root canal and that he could take care of it. Amber died during the procedure. James's lawyer later learned the vet's canine dentistry training came from a weekend course. What's more, elderly Amber should never have been a candidate for the intensive procedure.

How do you know whether your pet is in the hands of a skilled specialist? The AVMA lists 20 specialties for veterinarians, ranging from anesthesiology to dermatology. Legitimate specialists have done graduate work in their specialty and been certified by an industry medical board. Some vets may claim a "special interest" in an area, meaning they've taken some continuing education, but they aren't necessarily certified specialists, says Peter Weinstein, former medical director of Veterinary Pet Insurance in Brea, Calif.

If your pet needs a specialist, check the vet's educational background and certification. Also, ask how many specialized procedures he performs annually. Having a "special interest" may be fine if the vet has enough experience.

5. "Surgery's a cinch. It's the overnight stay you should be worried about."
If you think your pet will be tenderly nurtured through the night after surgery at a veterinary office or hospital, think again. Many vets don't staff their offices overnight, so it's important to ask about what happens in the wee hours.

Laura Ireland Moore, an animal law attorney in Portland, Ore., says she represented a client who took her dog to the vet after stitches from a routine spaying came undone. The veterinarian repaired the stitches with metal sutures but neglected to put a cone over the dog's head to protect the wound during an overnight stay. The office was unattended through the night, and by morning the animal had chewed through the sutures - as well as 15 feet of its own intestines. The agonized dog had to be put down. The moral of this unpleasant story: "You should definitely check if anyone will be on the premises overnight," Moore says.

If the facility doesn't have a night attendant, or if you don't trust his or her credentials - a late-shift babysitter may or may not be a vet or even a vet technician - you should ideally find a facility where a licensed vet stays over, Moore advises.

6. "Personally, I think declawing is inhumane. But, hey, it's your dime."
Animal activists have long held that cosmetic and so-called convenience surgeries, such as declawing a cat or clipping the ears of a Doberman, are unnecessary and cruel. That argument is gaining broader support, as declawing, in particular, has come under fire. While the surgery - which many vets say is the equivalent of toe amputation - will usually keep a cat from scratching the furniture, it may cause other physical and behavioral problems, according to veterinarian Jean Hofve, ranging from lameness and joint stiffness to behavioral issues such as reclusiveness and biting. In keeping with these concerns, the American Animal Hospital Association now recommends that its members inform clients about the risks of nonvital surgeries and the alternatives. "A lot of vets still feel they should do what the client wants," says Teri Barnato, national director of the Association of Veterinarians for Animal Rights. Many vets fear losing clients or having animals abandoned.

If you're considering a cosmetic or convenience procedure, ask your vet if he'd perform the surgery on his own pet. And weigh the alternatives - instead of declawing, you could get a scratching post and keep your cat's claws trimmed.

7. "Go ahead and sue - it'll hurt you more than it hurts me."
When Marc Bluestone's dog Shane died after being treated for seizures at All-Care Animal Referral Center in Fountain Valley, Calif., Bluestone decided to sue. In a precedent-setting ruling, a jury awarded him $39,000 for malpractice, claiming he and his dog had a "special and close relationship." (All-Care is appealing the ruling.)

But that's an exception - suing a veterinarian is at best a dodgy financial undertaking. The reason is that under the law pets are considered property, says Ireland Moore, the animal lawyer in Portland, Ore. More often than not, that means court awards are for the straight market value of the pet, which could be as little as $10 for your beloved mutt. Meanwhile, suing a vet is likely to be an expensive undertaking.

If your pet becomes the victim of a medical mishap, know that your legal recourse is anything but guaranteed. "It's not always the most economically smart thing to do," Moore concedes.

8. "The key to my thriving practice? Location, location, location."
While a referral is probably the best way to select a veterinarian, many people pick one simply because the office is around the corner. Indeed, according to the AVMA, only 10% of cat and dog owners choose their veterinarians through referral. That could be a mistake. If you have an aging kitty and the neighborhood vet doesn't have geriatric expertise, it won't be a good fit, says Nancy Peterson, a registered veterinary technician and a spokesperson for the Humane Society of the United States. Peterson adds that in her experience few pet emergencies happened during office hours anyway, nullifying some of the benefits of geographic convenience.

So how best to assess a vet? First, check out the facility. Is the staff friendly? Is the place clean? Look into the veterinarian's educational background, board certification and record both with the state's medical board and the local humane society. Beyond that, veterinarian Elliot Katz, president and founder of In Defense of Animals in Mill Valley, Calif., recommends studying the veterinarian's body language with animals. Make sure she greets animals in a friendly way, approaching them slowly and touching them gently. And if you have a special request, such as wanting to hold your pet when it's vaccinated, make sure you and your vet are on the same page.

9. "I haven't the foggiest idea why your dog's acting crazy."
The study of animal behavior is a relatively new specialty in veterinary medicine. In fact, the AVMA lists only 36 board-certified animal behavior specialists on its web site, compared with 1,500 internal medicine specialists. Yet many pet owners get rid of their cats and dogs, or even put them to sleep, for annoying behavior ranging from barking to eating drywall. Daniel Aja, a veterinarian in Traverse City, Mich., and president of the American Animal Hospital Association, recalls one client who brought in a St. Bernard to be euthanized because of severe separation anxiety. Once when the owner left the house, the dog jumped through a plate-glass window to chase after him. Aja convinced the owner to treat the pup with antidepressants and had behaviorists on his staff counsel the client on how to work with his dog.

Not all vets will make the extra effort to diagnose a behavioral problem, which entails taking a complete medical and behavioral history and spending hours with a pet. What do you do if Champ continues to chase his tail? Ask your vet if he has experience with behavioral issues. If not, request a referral. The International Association of Animal Behavior Consultants' web site lists professionals with varying experience in behavior training, from vets to dog trainers.

10. "Our technology may be state of the art, but our industry regulations are still in the Dark Ages."
While veterinarians and animal hospitals are increasingly working with the same level of sophistication as human doctors and hospitals, the regulatory oversight within the field is far less stringent. Under federal law, human hospitals must be inspected, but it's possible for a veterinary hospital to operate for years and never undergo an independent inspection, Aja says.

The American Animal Hospital Association does accredit animal hospitals, assessing them on more than 900 different standards ranging from organization of medical records to diagnostic capabilities. But only roughly one in seven pet hospitals in the U.S. and Canada have been accredited by the organization. Some states, such as California, perform inspections on vet hospitals, checking them for everything from outdated drugs to unsanitary conditions. Even seemingly petty requirements can have lifesaving results: After a California mandate required vets to have emergency lighting, one veterinarian used a flashlight to finish surgery when a blackout hit.

I have read a lot about raw feeding and have learned quite a bit, yet I'm no expert overall. I've been feeding my elderly rescued dogs raw food for the past several months and they are much healthier and have more energy than they did before. They have no fleas (and we live in Florida!), their nails grow very quickly, no more skin problems (they are Chinese Cresteds--2 hairless, 1 puff), and the puff has a shiny, non-shedding coat. Their poops are minimal, which means their bodies are assimilating more of their food. They used to smell "doggy" only a couple days after their baths and now they have no discernable odor whatsoever, even a week later.

The raw food I generally feed them is prepared and either frozen or freeze-dried (Prairie by Nature's Variety). It contains meat, bone, organs, fruits, veggies, and other nutrients. I used to give my puff an occasional chicken thigh to help clean his teeth, but he recently had to have the rest of his teeth extracted. His history was that of abuse and neglect, thus the rotten teeth, poor guy. But he eats well despite his lack of teeth and loves the Prairie food, which is especially easy for him to eat. And despite what people think they know, uncooked chicken bones are soft and digestible. Never give your animals cooked chicken bones because the cooked bones splinter. Cooked ham bones are OK, but the best bones are the raw meaty bones available from your butcher.

Raw feeding can be more economical if you process the foods yourself. A meat grinder and food processor are the tools you will need, and a friendly butcher who can get you the poultry necks, backs, and other less desirable meats that are most healthy for your animals. But you must be sure to include all the vitamins and nutrients your animal companions need. I buy the frozen Prairie medallions because they are easy to serve and I'm able to purchase them locally. But if they are not available in your area, shipping can be astronomical for frozen products, and the freeze-dried version costs twice as much. So preparing it yourself may be your best choice as long as you include the necessary nutrients. It is certainly worth the extra effort.

Raw feeding has been known to be a successful choice for many cats as well. Unfortunately, the only “raw” foods my cats like are lizards and tree frogs (ugh!). So even if your cats are finicky eaters, you can introduce the raw foods slowly and if you're lucky, you'll be able to put one over on them before they know it! Yes, even cats sometimes let us win, but only if they believe it is in their best interests.

Is raw feeding for everyone? I don't know. I go by what I've observed and experienced with my own animal companions and it works very well for my dogs. But the secret is to listen to them. They will tell you what they need.

The following are some links that will help provide some information on raw foods. There are also Yahoo discussion groups on raw feeding you can join to learn more about it.

Do your homework. Raw food alone is not necessarily enough. Domestic animals need a balanced diet. Include age-appropriate vitamin and mineral supplements, and certain fruits and vegetables (no onions, raisins, or grapes!). Lastly, raw feeding has proven health benefits, but is not necessarily a miracle cure.

Dear Shelter-Dog,

I wanted to address this letter to you by name—but sadly, you do not have one.

I needed to write this letter for many reasons; I have so many things to say to you, and there is so much that I want you to know.

First and foremost I want you to know that you are loved. You are thought of and prayed for each and every day by many kind people.

I want you to know that you did nothing wrong: you simply couldn't, for wrongdoing is not in your nature.

I don't know what cruel twist of fate brought you to this place, but I do know that you do not deserve to be here.

I don't know it if was decided that you were too large or too small, if you barked too much or too little, if someone became allergic to you or if it was simply decided one day that you were an inconvenience.

I don't know if the children that you were given to lost interest in you when you were not a puppy anymore and no longer considered cute or fun.

I don't know if you became too old or too sick or if your medical problems became too expensive.

I don't know if you simply lost your way one day.

I am not sure if you were thrown from a car or dropped off by the side of a road, left behind—you may have waited patiently, bewildered, wondering why those you loved never came back.

I don't know if your family moved away and decided not to take you.

I don't know if you were tortured—taught to fight against your will, and when you loyally obeyed you were punished further by being brought here.

I don't know if your owner died not wanting to leave you behind.

What I do know is this: you are important and you are loved.

I do know that I want to hold you and take away your pain. I want to show you the love and kindness that you deserve.

I want you to know that it breaks my heart when I can't save you.

I want you to know that you are special. Just as special, just as important as any dog living in a home now—because any of those dogs could be you.

You come in all sizes shapes and colors. You have unique personalities and behaviors. It saddens me that the beauty of your kind soul will never be known and cannot be shared from your jail cell.

You may not have a name but you do have a soul and I do know that one day there will be peace for you.

God will shower you with the love and warmth you deserve. You will run through the greenest of pastures and feel the warm sun on your face. You will have your very own toys to play with and a comfortable bed to call your own. You will never be sick; feel pain or be lonely again.

Your fur will shine and your tail will wag.

You are loved, and you are wanted. Your pleading eyes have burned holes in the hearts of all of us who love you; this is something that I really want you to know.

I want to end my letter to you with a promise. I promise that I will work towards putting an end to shelter life because this is not a place for a beautiful soul like yours.

I want to look into your loving warm eyes and tell you that there is hope; I want you to know that this fight will continue for as long as it takes—it will continue until you are free.

Before I was a Dog Mom: I made and ate hot meals unmolested; I had unstained, unfurred clothes; I had quiet conversations on the phone, even if the doorbell rang.

Before I was a Dog Mom: I slept as late as I wanted and never worried about how late I got to bed . . . or if I could get into my bed.

Before I was a Dog Mom: I cleaned my house everyday, I never tripped over toys, stuffies, chewies, or invited the neighbor's dog over to play.

Before I was a Dog Mom: I didn't worry if my plants, cleansers, plastic bags, toilet paper, soap, or deodorant were poisonous or dangerous.

Before I was a Dog Mom: I had never been peed on, pooped on, drooled on, chewed on, or pinched by puppy teeth.

Before I was a Dog Mom: I had complete control of my thoughts, my body, and my mind. I slept all night without sharing the covers or pillow.

Before I was a Dog Mom: I never looked into big, soulful eyes and cried. I never felt my heart break into a million pieces when I couldn't stop a hurt. I never knew something so furry and four-legged could affect my heart so deeply.

Before I was a Dog Mom: I had never held a sleeping puppy just because I couldn't put it down. I had never gotten up in the middle of the night every 10 minutes to make sure all was well. I didn't know how warm it feels inside to feed a hungry puppy. I didn't know that something so small could make me feel so important.

Before I was a Dog Mom: I had never known the warmth, the joy, the love, the heartache, the wonderment, or the satisfaction of being.

From time to time, people tell me, "lighten up, it's just a dog," or, "that's a lot of money for just a dog." They don't understand the distance traveled, the time spent, or the costs involved for "just a dog." Some of my proudest moments have come about with "just a dog." Many hours have passed and my only company was " just a dog," but I did not once feel slighted. Some of my saddest moments have been brought about by "just a dog," and in those days of darkness, the gentle touch of "just a dog" gave me comfort and reason to overcome the day.

If you, too, think it's "just a dog," then you will probably understand phases like "just a friend," "just a sunrise," or "just a promise." "Just a dog" brings into my life the very essence of friendship, trust, and pure unbridled joy. "Just a dog" brings out the compassion and patience that make me a better person. Because of "just a dog" I will rise early, take long walks and look longingly to the future. So for me and folks like me, it's not "just a dog" but an embodiment of all the hopes and dreams of the future, the fond memories of the past, and the pure joy of the moment. "Just a dog" brings out what's good in me and diverts my thoughts away from myself and the worries of the day.

I hope that someday they can understand that it's not "just a dog" but the thing that gives me humanity and keeps me from being "just a man." So the next time you hear the phrase "just a dog." just smile, because they "just don't understand."

Back during the summer of 1994, I was working as a Park Ranger on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon.

It was late July and I had a few days off. I was going down to Flagstaff for supplies. It would be a four-hour drive through some of the most beautiful but inhospitable desert on the planet.

About two hours into the trip, I crossed into the Navajo Nation, an Indian reservation larger than many states. Cruising along on a barren stretch of Highway 89, I saw out of the corner of my eye a tiny dog along the side of the road.

I knew I couldn't leave the dog there so I slowed down, turned around, and drove back. For a minute, I couldn't find her but then I saw her stumbling deeper into the desert.

This was the most pathetic animal I had ever seen. She was skin and bones with little fur, and her body, face, and tail were covered with scabs. She had big ears like a fox, and the ears were so scabbed that the weight of the scabs made her ears hang over her face. She also had open sores on her body. There were ticks all over her and she had the look of death in her eyes. When I picked her up I realized she couldn't weigh more than half a pound. She let out a little cry.

I cut an old Coke can in half and gave her water. I also had some chocolate chip cookies with me and gave her one. She drank and ate as if she hadn't had nourishment in weeks. With her in the rear of the car I continued to Flagstaff.

I kept thinking, who would abandon a tiny dog like this in this harsh landscape? There was no water for 50 miles -- just sand and rock and cactus. During the day the temperature can reach 120 degrees, dipping below freezing at night. I couldn't even tell if the dog was a puppy or a twenty-year-old Chihuahua. She was that messed up. And that tiny, too.

I got to Flagstaff, found a veterinarian office, and took the dog in. The vet took one look at the dog and knew the story. He said this was a reservation dog or "res dog." These are wild dogs that live on the Indian reservation, and he said, "Some survive, some don't." He added that the dogs aren't domesticated and their origins date back hundreds of years when Indians hunted bison with bows. He said that somewhere along the way, domesticated dogs mated with wolves, coyotes and foxes, and a breed of feral dog was created. They filled a niche as a predator and scavenger on the reservation.

So this was essentially a true wild dog or, in other words, a dingo. The vet advised me against keeping the dog and said I would be crazy to waste my money on it. He said these animals couldn't be domesticated, do not make good pets, and that she would be unpredictable. He said he would euthanize her for no charge.

But I couldn't let that happen. I told him to treat the dog. She was given a bunch of shots and pills, and the vet said he would need to see her in two weeks. He said she was about 8 weeks old and probably had been abandoned by her mother so as not to infect the rest of the litter. She would not have survived another day. She was so small she fit in my jacket pocket.

We left Flagstaff that night and headed back towards the Canyon. I drove a few hours and found an old dirt-mining road, drove down a mile or so and laid out my sleeping bag. I kept the dog near me, but in a box. When I woke the next morning the dog had somehow climbed out of the box and into my sleeping bag and was sleeping right up against my stomach.

When I finally got back to my cabin I had to sneak her around because I wasn't allowed to have pets. Eventually, people found out and my boss said I could keep her until she was well, and then I would need to get rid of her.

Mainge became my constant companion.

I took her to work with me, and everywhere I went, she followed. Everywhere I drove, she rode shotgun. I considered my options and thought best to find someone to adopt her, but nobody wanted a "res dog."

The vet was right about one thing -- she never would domesticate. Her instincts ran strong and she had a pack mentality. But he was wrong about something else -- she was a great pet, more than a pet.

She was small but she wouldn't back down from a dog four times her size. Even my other dog, Ingrid, who is a 130-pound Rottweiler was no match for Mainge when they sparred. Mainge would dance around her and wear her out in seconds flat.

Yet, in ten years, she never got aggressive with adults or children. She didn't bark at the mailman, she greeted the garbage man, and anyone who came over to the house was automatically included in her pack. She never forgot anyone. Never once did I hear her growl at another person and she never bit anybody.

But other things made her different too. She was smarter than your average dog. Had she survived in the Arizona desert she would have been working for her own living and, because of this, she could be clever and cunning. She was well suited for her environment. Big ears to hear better and dissipate heat, striped coat for camouflage, white tip on her tail so other pack members could see her in tall grass and cacti, short legs that gave her quick bursts of speed and incredible agility. A long body for a low center of gravity, making it easier to turn in mid stride.

In ten years, she never knew a leash or a chain. She would stay out most of the day perched on the porch or checking the perimeter. She never ran away and always came running back when called. She was great to take hiking and camping, always on the alert, always scouting up ahead to make sure the trail was safe, always finding a stump or piece of high ground to sit on so she could see in all directions. She wouldn't sleep in the open and always had to find a place to curl up where she had her back covered.

Over time we learned to understand each other well. Being a wild dog, she had different barks and howls, and I learned what they all meant. She had a large vocabulary too. Then there was the body language and posturing. I eventually learned the meaning of this too.

The Vet was wrong about something else. Mainge became very predictable. I could read her mind sometimes. I know my other dog, Ingrid, and Mainge could communicate telepathically. I spent years observing this. Life with her was a joy.

Not a week passed that someone wouldn't look at her and say, "What kind of a dog is that?" Or, "Is that a dingo?" She had that look. She had confidence. I never told her when it was time to eat or go out, she told me when she was ready.

Because she was not a pedigree and because she was small, I had always thought she would live well past 15. In a way I feel robbed that I will no longer have her in my life. She will be sorely missed.

But I had something with her that can't easily be explained -- a connection, a soul mate, a friend, a teacher. I will never forget the pleasure she gave me. Maybe it's better she died young, so I can always remember her as she was. Maybe it was meant to be this way. That's how it is done in the animal kingdom. Sometimes they just know when it is time to die. She didn't appear to suffer. She just went to sleep and never woke up.

We have lost our leader and, though my heart is broken, I want to celebrate her life even though I can't help but mourn her death. She was one of a kind. There will never be another like her.

Had I sneezed or blinked while driving past her that July day back in 1994, I would have never known what I've shared with all of you.

Frank DiGianni
fdigianni @ aol.com
___________________________________________
Frank is a former National Park Ranger and is now a flight paramedic in the lower Hudson Valley of New York State. He also volunteers as a wildlife rehabilitator for the State Department of Environmental Conservation, treating and caring for orphaned and injured animals with the goal of releasing them back into the wild.
___________________________________________
We put a space before and after the @ symbol in the email addresses to disguise them from robots that harvest addresses on the Internet. If you would like to correspond, just take out the spaces.

Being involved in rescuing dogs and cats means visiting animal shelters. Recently I had cause to rescue 6 Chinese Crested dogs from a shelter in another county. The dogs were confiscated from an abusive home, a puppy mill, and had been held in the Shelter's care for over 3 months while the courts decided if the owner should be able to retain ownership. The shelter finally was granted ownership, and their rescue coordinator called a fellow rescuer to ask if he could take the dogs … immediately. If the dogs were not removed from the shelter in 48 hours, they would be euthanized due to lack of room in the shelter.

The rescuer contacted did not have room for more fosters, so he contacted me & I made arrangements to pick them up the next morning. It was a long drive to the shelter, but worth it to save 6 dogs from sure death. The dogs I received from the shelter that morning were in very bad condition. I did not expect that, as I knew that they had been under the shelter's care for the last 3 months.

Two dogs were under nourished to the point of emaciation. Another dog was matted with excrement in the mats, and was also thin. Another dog, a hairless male, had an infected foot & had been diagnosed with a heart condition. At his vet visit 2 days later, my vet could find no trace of a bad heart … not even a heart murmur … the dog has a wonderfully strong steady heart!

Out of the six dogs, only two were healthy normal dogs that looked well cared for. I was outraged that this could happen in a “shelter” environment! I discovered that this shelter had a lawsuit pending for a multitude of offenses. I continued researching it. What I discovered surprised me and made me question who the “bad guy” really is.

This County Shelter can only house 400 dogs. The state requires that they hold owner turn in dogs for 4 days. The time is longer for strays. On a normal day the community brings in 50 to 90 dogs per day! If you do the math, or even if you don't, it is obvious that this shelter is not adequate to hold the dogs that this county produces!

Is the shelter to blame for euthanizing owner turned in dogs the same day that they are brought in? Legally, yes. It is obvious to me though that the shelter is not creating a problem, the shelter is trying to be the solution to a much bigger problem! There are too many dogs (and cats) in the county that are unwanted, or strays.

What we need is not just a larger facility, but education for the people that live in this county. Dogs & cats need to be spayed and neutered and not allowed to have even a single litter. Only through education and help from the community can this problem be solved.

Now the shelter takes in only as many dogs as it has room for. The rest are turned away. What becomes of the dogs that are turned away? Most will end up on the street. They will not be spayed or neutered so they will reproduce and create MORE dogs and cats.

Stray, homeless dogs are also dangerous to the children & legally leash-walked dogs. These dogs face a very hard life with inadequate food or shelter & often a cruel death fighting with each other or under the wheels of a vehicle.

Definitely some Animal Shelters are better than others, but the shelters are not the “bad guys” . . . every person that does not take precautions to ensure that their dogs & cats cannot reproduce and then accidentally brings puppies & kittens into a world that has no room for them are the “bad guys”.

Please, be part of the solution … not part of the problem.

But there appears to be great consensus over the wrongheadedness of Mutts & Moms’ reason for repossessing him, despite the tears and pleas of the family’s 11- and 12-year-old daughters: its policy of not adopting out small dogs to families with children younger than 14.

“That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard,” says Barbara Miller of Old Brookville, N.Y., who has been breeding Norfolk terriers since the mid-1970s and was recently named the American Kennel Club’s Terrier Breeder of the Year.

While many prospective owners bristle at restrictions on how old their children must be before a dog is placed with their families, rescuers and breeders say such rules are made with the dog’s welfare in mind. But even if most agree that 14 is over the top, just what that age is depends on whom you talk to.

“No kids under 7” when it comes to toy breeds, declares Darlene Arden, author of “Small Dogs, Big Hearts: A Guide to Caring for Your Little Dog” (Howell Book House, $19.99). “Before that age, children don’t understand that they can inflict pain.”

Because “anything a child can pick up, a child can drop,” even older children should be schooled in the ground rules, she advises: Always sit on the floor when playing with the dog. No roughhousing or yelling, no swooping down, and no tug-of-war — “you can pull the teeth out of alignment with a toy dog.”

Certain toy dogs are more appropriate than others for children, even older ones, Arden says. Some breeds, such as Japanese chins and Pomeranians, are simply too fragile. Ditto for Chihuahuas: “They are so tiny even a lot of adults have problems handling them,” she warns. “You have to hold them just right.”

At the New York City-based Metropolitan Maltese Rescue, the minimum age for children is 10, said its president, Joan Garvin, because some Maltese barely weigh in at 4 pounds, and the breed is not known for being very compatible with children.

“We have made exceptions,” she says. “We sometimes get mixes that are sturdier, or dogs that we know are good with children.”

Miller, the Norfolk breeder, doesn’t get too hung up on age. “What if the family has an 8-year-old and a 6-year-old, and then there’s a 4-year-old? Should the two older kids be punished because they have a younger sibling?” she asks.

Instead, “I have them come over and I watch them play with my puppies,” and she makes an individual determination about their maturity level and appropriateness.

Patt Kolesar of Wisconsin Rapids, Wis., who breeds and rescues pugs and Brussels Griffons — the latter is ostensibly part of Iggy’s heritage — also resists honing in on a “make or break” age.

“Every home is an individual situation, and nothing written in stone,” she says. “I’ve seen some 14-year-olds that I wouldn’t let have an ant farm, and I have seen incredibly responsible 9-year-olds.”

With most rescuers and breeders, a child’s behavior — and a parent’s reaction to it — speaks volumes.

“If while we are talking on the phone your 4-year-old child is screaming in the background and you are screaming back, I’ll deter you from buying my own dogs,” Kolesar says.

One reason for the broad age restriction in the Mutt & Moms policy might be the murky backgrounds of the rescue dogs, she adds. “A lot of times, dogs that come into rescue come with baggage. Sometimes they are injured or fearful. A lot of rescues are looking out for the children and the dog.”

Melanie Mayo of Long Island Golden Retriever Rescue in Plainview, N.Y., says her group does not have an age restriction for children (though she says a lot of other groups for the breed do). Still, she won’t place a dog that was not raised with children into a household with kids, and she will not place a shelter dog with young children. Period.

The problem with the Ellen DeGeneres controversy, she says, is that the concern is misplaced. From a rescuer’s point of view, it should be Iggy’s welfare that trumps everything — including the disappointment of the two youngsters who grew fond of him.

“If you adopt a dog from me, you’re not my client — the dog is,” she says. “Yes, you are doing a wonderful thing by adopting a rescue dog and we all appreciate that, but we’re not a ‘make a family happy rescue,’ we’re a ‘find a dog a home rescue.’ We’re about what’s in the best interest of the dog — and if we do that, everyone’s happy.”

Instead of thinking about their own needs, adopters should trust that the rescuer or breeder will find the right match for them.

“It isn’t a waiting list, or eeny-meeny-miney-moe. It’s more like matchmaking,” Mayo says.

Somewhere, out there, is the perfect dog for you. It just might take a little time, effort — and patience — to find it.

Tips for Adopting Kittens
Dog people aren’t the only ones who look long and hard at a child’s age before making an adoption decision.

Dottie McMorrow of A Home At Last Animal Adoption Network in Brightwaters, N.Y., says she’s often unwilling to adopt a young kitten out to homes with children under 7 or 8.

“Children that young tend to want to pick up kittens and play with them — older kittens are sturdier,” she says.

Cat experience also plays a role. “We have put a couple of kittens with children as young as 5, only because they have had cats in the home before. They know how to handle them.”

Interviews with parents, and watching children as they interact with her foster cats, often tells her what she needs to know.

“If I ask, ‘What would make you give up your cat?’ and the parent answers, ‘Well, if the kitten bit my child,’ that type of answer” — which shows a naivete about the oral propensities of kittens — “would signal to us that these are not experienced cat people and their kids are too young for cats.”

Often, she adds, rescues try to find diplomatic or vague reasons why an adoption is not feasible. If you get the brush-off, look closer to home to find the reasons why.

Home | Where You Can Find Us | We're Available!!! | We're Home!!! | Animal Communication | Health & Nutrition | Books & Other References | Stores & Resources | Links | How You Can Help | Sponsor A Pet! | Our Wishes