Post by Brooke on Jan 21, 2004 18:42:50 GMT -5
Friendly dog must go, city tells pet's owner
www.journalgazette.net
Fort Wayne, IN
Posted on Thu, Nov. 27, 2003
About five years ago, Leonard Deininger's wife died, and a year after that his dog died of cancer, and then he was alone in his house on West Oakdale Drive.
But his daughter had a friend who kept a dog tied up in the back yard, and she didn't think that was right, so she took the dog and gave it to her father. They've been pals ever since.
The dog sleeps on a sofa that Deininger rescued from the trash and stashed on his enclosed back porch. Twice a day, Deininger, 78, takes the big, white dog for long walks around his neighborhood. When neighbor kids see him, he says, they run up to him and pet and hug Lady.
Deininger often puts Lady in the front seat of his pickup and goes to a nursing home in Butler where a friend lives, and the residents in wheelchairs pet the animal. In the summer, he takes the dog to see a friend who lives at the Kingston retirement community on Winchester Road. They linger around the patio area, and residents pet the dog. It provides exercise for some because they get to take Lady for walks in the parking lot.
The dog has never caused a problem, Kingston officials say. She's very mild mannered, and doesn't even bark.
Then, last week, Deininger got a letter from the city. His dog is part wolf and is considered an exotic animal. Exotic animals were outlawed by the City Council in June, so his dog is illegal. He could be fined up to $2,500 if he tries to circumvent the law. He was given until Dec. 5 to contact Animal Control or an officer would be dispatched for an inspection.
The letter didn't sit well with Deininger. His dog isn't a wolf dog to him. It's just a dog. The only reason it was ever labeled a wolf dog is because one year instead of getting his dog license at the SPCA he got it from his vet, who classified the dog as part Malamute and part wolf.
The letter didn't sit well with Deininger's neighbors, either. It's outrageous, said one neighbor, whose Pekinese likes to visit with Lady.
Meanwhile, Deininger, who helps sell Christmas trees for his neighborhood association and collects aluminum cans to raise money for the SPCA shelter, isn't sure what to do.
In his mind, he shouldn't have to do anything.
"There's nothing wrong with it (the dog)," he says in his high, shrill voice. "As soon as I got her, I got her fixed. If she was a mean dog, that would be another thing. But she's not mean. She's never bitten anybody. She's a lover. And she's all I got."
There are people involved in what is called wolf-dog rescue, you tell him. They take wolf dogs that are threatened and put them where they're safe.
"But they can't have my dog," Deininger says.
But the city might try to take the dog away. They might kill it.
"If they kill the dog, they can kill me with it," Deininger cries. "I got a cemetery plot," a space between his mother and his wife. "I'm old enough to go. If they take my dog, they can take me with it. Jesus, I've had the dog four years (going on five). There's nothing wrong with it."
But that doesn't matter. It doesn't matter that Deininger is 78 and the only thing he has any more is a big white dog that people in nursing homes like to pet. The law says the dog is dangerous, like the wolf that ate Grandma and dressed up in her bedclothes.
Over at Animal Control, Deininger's case is the type that makes Donald Cains, the enforcement division supervisor, sigh and put his head in his hands.
"We wanted to grandfather these dogs in," let the small number of dogs that are part wolf disappear through attrition, Cains said. "But the City Council said no. They wanted them out of the city."
Animal Control, meanwhile, is an enforcement agency. It doesn't have much choice. "The whole catch is, she may be a lover, but there's no provision to allow us to exempt her."
The department has to be consistent. If it eliminates one dog and lets another one stay, it's open to a lawsuit.
No matter what decision Animal Control makes, it's going to come back and bite it, Cains said - even if the dog won't.
"It's very distasteful," he said.
Deininger could get out from under the law if his veterinarian would be willing to write Animal Control a letter, saying the dog is not wolf. But then the vet is on the hook.
Or he could petition the City Council to amend the law and grandfather the dogs that are part wolf that are in the city.
That's logical.
But will logic prevail?
www.journalgazette.net
Fort Wayne, IN
Posted on Thu, Nov. 27, 2003
About five years ago, Leonard Deininger's wife died, and a year after that his dog died of cancer, and then he was alone in his house on West Oakdale Drive.
But his daughter had a friend who kept a dog tied up in the back yard, and she didn't think that was right, so she took the dog and gave it to her father. They've been pals ever since.
The dog sleeps on a sofa that Deininger rescued from the trash and stashed on his enclosed back porch. Twice a day, Deininger, 78, takes the big, white dog for long walks around his neighborhood. When neighbor kids see him, he says, they run up to him and pet and hug Lady.
Deininger often puts Lady in the front seat of his pickup and goes to a nursing home in Butler where a friend lives, and the residents in wheelchairs pet the animal. In the summer, he takes the dog to see a friend who lives at the Kingston retirement community on Winchester Road. They linger around the patio area, and residents pet the dog. It provides exercise for some because they get to take Lady for walks in the parking lot.
The dog has never caused a problem, Kingston officials say. She's very mild mannered, and doesn't even bark.
Then, last week, Deininger got a letter from the city. His dog is part wolf and is considered an exotic animal. Exotic animals were outlawed by the City Council in June, so his dog is illegal. He could be fined up to $2,500 if he tries to circumvent the law. He was given until Dec. 5 to contact Animal Control or an officer would be dispatched for an inspection.
The letter didn't sit well with Deininger. His dog isn't a wolf dog to him. It's just a dog. The only reason it was ever labeled a wolf dog is because one year instead of getting his dog license at the SPCA he got it from his vet, who classified the dog as part Malamute and part wolf.
The letter didn't sit well with Deininger's neighbors, either. It's outrageous, said one neighbor, whose Pekinese likes to visit with Lady.
Meanwhile, Deininger, who helps sell Christmas trees for his neighborhood association and collects aluminum cans to raise money for the SPCA shelter, isn't sure what to do.
In his mind, he shouldn't have to do anything.
"There's nothing wrong with it (the dog)," he says in his high, shrill voice. "As soon as I got her, I got her fixed. If she was a mean dog, that would be another thing. But she's not mean. She's never bitten anybody. She's a lover. And she's all I got."
There are people involved in what is called wolf-dog rescue, you tell him. They take wolf dogs that are threatened and put them where they're safe.
"But they can't have my dog," Deininger says.
But the city might try to take the dog away. They might kill it.
"If they kill the dog, they can kill me with it," Deininger cries. "I got a cemetery plot," a space between his mother and his wife. "I'm old enough to go. If they take my dog, they can take me with it. Jesus, I've had the dog four years (going on five). There's nothing wrong with it."
But that doesn't matter. It doesn't matter that Deininger is 78 and the only thing he has any more is a big white dog that people in nursing homes like to pet. The law says the dog is dangerous, like the wolf that ate Grandma and dressed up in her bedclothes.
Over at Animal Control, Deininger's case is the type that makes Donald Cains, the enforcement division supervisor, sigh and put his head in his hands.
"We wanted to grandfather these dogs in," let the small number of dogs that are part wolf disappear through attrition, Cains said. "But the City Council said no. They wanted them out of the city."
Animal Control, meanwhile, is an enforcement agency. It doesn't have much choice. "The whole catch is, she may be a lover, but there's no provision to allow us to exempt her."
The department has to be consistent. If it eliminates one dog and lets another one stay, it's open to a lawsuit.
No matter what decision Animal Control makes, it's going to come back and bite it, Cains said - even if the dog won't.
"It's very distasteful," he said.
Deininger could get out from under the law if his veterinarian would be willing to write Animal Control a letter, saying the dog is not wolf. But then the vet is on the hook.
Or he could petition the City Council to amend the law and grandfather the dogs that are part wolf that are in the city.
That's logical.
But will logic prevail?