MACON — Christmas greetings flank each end of Jefferson Street in downtown Macon: Peace on Earth, Joy to the World. A few miles away, in an abandoned factory, those who have known little peace or joy are getting a second chance following one of the largest canine rescues Mississippi animal rights activists have seen in recent years.
People knew Elaine Jewell had more than 100 dogs, at times as many as 200, on her property at 570 Firetower Road. A handwritten sign was duct-taped to a pole at the entrance: “No Dog Dumping.” She had been on the U.S. Humane Society’s radar for more than a year.
Tuesday, the Humane Society took action, with nearly 30 people coordinating the rescue of 106 dogs from what agency officials described as deplorable conditions. By the end of the day, Jewell was left with four small dogs, and her animal rescue organization had been stripped of its 501(c)3 charity status.
Now, Noxubee County officials are left wondering how this happened and what can be done to prevent it from happening again.
Jewell’s case isn’t rare, said Lydia Sattler, state director of the Humane Society. Last year, 54 large-scale animal rescues took place nationwide. Some people, like Jewell, begin with good intentions but become quickly overwhelmed, and they willingly relinquish the animals when the Humane Society steps in. Others require legal intervention.
Jewell is not expected to face criminal charges, Sattler said, and she will be monitored on a monthly basis to make certain she doesn’t begin accumulating dogs again.
Jewell did not immediately return a phone call.
A makeshift shelter has been created at an undisclosed location to house the rescued dogs until they can be checked by veterinarians and placed in foster homes.
Sattler said she hopes the volunteers who have arrived from all corners of the nation to help will be able to leave by Christmas. But her first priority is the welfare of the dogs who now await the next chapter of their lives.
Meeting the dogs
Every dog has a story.
Some stories are told by young teeth worn down by a constant diet of rocks, cans, sticks, whatever could be found. Some are told by eyes almost completely shuttered by mange. Some are told by weathered, sagging teats grotesquely enlarged by too many puppies and too much use.
Sattler wanders through the dimly lit corridor of the temporary shelter, stopping when a large brown and white dog presses against his wire pen, lifting his paws to her in silent entreaty.
He was found shaking and cold, sitting atop a pile of garbage on Jewell’s property, his eyes nearly closed against the chilling wind as he warily surveyed his rescuers.
Now, he rests on a warm bed of cedar shavings. He has been fed and watered. He has been examined by one of four Mississippi State University veterinarians, tested for diseases and parasites, vaccinated, treated for fleas and ticks and had his toenails clipped so he can stand upright and walk without limping.
But like many of the dogs here, he craves love — so much so that volunteers have named him Romeo.
He is in better condition than a lot of the dogs. Most have varying degrees of skin ailments, some so severe that they are almost hairless. Some are so thin that their ribs jut sharply from their haunches. Many have heartworms and ehrlichiosis, a blood infection caused by ticks. One has a broken pelvis. Another has a broken leg. Some have never known the touch of a human hand, and they cower when approached.
In a nearby pen, two 6-week old puppies, still fat from their mother’s milk, lie curled together in a tight ball, oblivious to the barking din around them. A volunteer carries a frightened dog from a makeshift exam room, stopping to wrap a cloth leash around its muzzle to keep it from biting. Blood drips onto the floor from an unseen wound. The dog will be re-examined and treated.
The Macon rescue is an expensive undertaking. Sattler expects the final cost to be somewhere around $75,000, and that’s cheap thanks to the city’s rent-free donation of the temporary shelter. The veterinarians have the choice of either being paid by the Humane Society or volunteering their services.
Once the dogs have been examined, they will be sent to foster homes and shelters skilled in working with animals with behavioral and medical conditions. Most are expected to be adoptable, in time.
Sattler stops to hold a small brown dog while MSU veterinarian Phil Bushby examines it. The dog’s tail beats a tentative staccato on the plastic table, pausing only briefly when Bushby squirts a vaccine in her nostrils.
“I love this dog,” Sattler says.
Problems and solutions
But for every dog that is rescued, there are hundreds more that are not. Rescues — either by good Samaritans or animal advocates — are not the solution, Sattler says. There are simply more dogs than people.
Jewell’s situation spiraled out of control partially for two reasons: lack of spaying and neutering and lack of an animal shelter in Noxubee County.
Wednesday morning, Sattler met with city and county officials to discuss the problems and possible solutions. The talks were closed to the media, but she said they went well and she thinks officials are now more aware that animal control is a community problem.
The biggest factor in stemming the tide of animal abandonment and neglect is stanching the population, and that begins with educating the public about the importance of spaying and neutering, she said.
According to Spay USA, a program of the Northshore Animal League, in six years an unspayed female and her offspring can reproduce 67,000 dogs.
The U.S. Humane Society estimates that 6 to 8 million cats and dogs enter animal shelters each year, and less than half of those are adopted. Roughly one animal is euthanized every 6 1/2 seconds nationwide.
To help curb Macon’s animal population, MSU veterinarians will begin bringing a mobile veterinary unit to town to provide free spaying and neutering. The program will begin Jan. 6.
But there are other issues to overcome, Sattler said. Demographics play a factor, especially in places such as Noxubee County, where 34 percent of the population lives below the poverty threshold, according to 2009 U.S. Census data.
Then there’s the issue of individual freedoms versus societal good. People who live in rural areas are often against governmental influence, but when free-ranging animals repeatedly breed, they begin encroaching on other people’s land, and it becomes a community issue, she said.
Sattler is optimistic that with effort and cooperation between local officials and residents, the city can ease its animal control problems.
She gazes at the rows of dogs. Some are sleeping soundly; others wag their tails in hopes of catching her eye. Here, there is peace. And even a bit of joy.
Carmen K. Sisson is the former news editor at The Dispatch.
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