Rehoming Pets: Beware of the Comments. We Need To Stop Shaming People Away From Seeking Help.

Photo by Natasha Cara

Animal rescue is exhausting, to put it mildly. We encounter situations that make us question humanity, and it takes a heavy emotional toll to see pets discarded like an outfit that has gone out of style. Pet overpopulation is at crisis levels, and healthy animals are being euthanized simply because there isn’t enough space to house them. I understand why people are angry and quick to judge those who surrender their pets, but somewhere along the way, the act of “giving up a pet” has become highly polarized, leaving us in a troubling place. I find we are lumping people who situationally rehome their pet into the same category as those who abuse and neglect, and fail to see anything in between. And this is really dangerous.

Real life is nuanced, and devastating. Circumstances, from health to finances, can change in an instant. As such, we need to keep in mind that reasons for rehoming are not “one-size-fits-all”, and refrain from vilifying people whose situations we know nothing about. There is an entire side of the story we don’t know, and we need to stop filling in its blanks that boil someone’s life down to a game of Mad Libs — it’s not our story to write. Not only does the shaming and blaming do nothing to help the situation, but I worry we are creating a climate of bullying people away from seeking help.

Working as an Intake Specialist at a municipal shelter, I can tell you that every person who calls to surrender their pet doesn’t follow through. Contrary to popular belief, most people don’t want to do this, but they believe they are out of options. And yes, often they are, but by engaging in a nonjudgmental conversation, the call can take a different direction.

That conversation involves listening, sympathizing, troubleshooting, and, in the best of circumstances, problem-solving. I make them aware of resources that may help them keep their pets, such as pet food banks, financial assistance for veterinary care, or temporary pet-friendly housing. Sometimes it’s as simple as first-time pet owners not realizing that training is a tool that can improve their relationship with their pet. Other times, it’s a matter of tapering expectations, normalizing the challenges that come with a new relationship, and encouraging them to give it time. And if rehoming is necessary, educating them about responsible ways to privately rehome their pet while it remains with them, ultimately bypassing the stressful shelter environment and keeping space open for the next animal who will inevitably come through their door without that option. If we scare them off from calling, they won’t get any of that information.

I won’t sugarcoat it: There are systemic barriers that are much larger than any individual’s choices. Not every pet owner is open to this conversation, and you can tell the difference pretty quickly, whether that’s due to unworkable personal circumstances or it being clear a pet isn’t being well cared for. There are times I simply ask how soon they can bring their pet in. And that’s ok, that’s exactly why shelters exist.

When it comes to bonds that hold pet families together, the strength of the relationship also needs to be considered. The reality is that not every pet is considered a beloved family member, and as such, not every owner experiences a heartbreaking farewell. There are different levels of attachment we share with our pets, and we have to start by non-judgmentally assessing where someone is. It’s not a bond that can be forced, and barring mistreatment or neglect, it doesn’t make someone a horrible human if they don’t have it. So let them do the responsible thing by reaching out and giving that animal a chance at finding a better life. If we scare them away, we risk them sequestering their pet in the basement, living in the yard, or simply abandoning it. The reality is, there are worse things than humane euthanasia.

And then there is the common argument, “they shouldn’t have gotten a pet if they couldn’t afford it, didn’t have the time, or didn’t do the research.” In a perfect world, this would be the case. However, the reality is that people don’t always think through their decisions, and we don’t have crystal balls to predict the future. I’m fairly certain that most of us can pinpoint at least one time in our lives when we chose wrong (I have an entire binder full). They thought pet ownership would be something, but it turned out to be something else. Presumably, they kept the animal safe while in their care, but it turned out to be more than they had the time, resources, energy, or emotional bandwidth to handle. They are entitled to their experience, and I don’t believe their intent was ill-willed. We could “they should have” on them all we want, but we can’t shame someone into a different worldview or change their circumstances.

When it comes to rehoming, another important thing to keep in mind is that even the most loving animal owner can face irreconcilable differences. You may discover that the pet that has been with you pre-children — the one you love like a child — cannot safely co-exist with your actual child. Or your new dog severely injured your cat, and the risk of management failing again is too great. Or your wife is so allergic to your cat that she gasps for air in her own house. You cannot pretend to be in that owner’s shoes and swear that you would be able to keep that pet.

There are behaviors that not everyone can work with, and sadly, not every animal can overcome. People have a right to boundaries and should not have to live in fear of the next incident. And when it comes down to it, is it fair to keep a pet in an environment in which they are not thriving? Should a fearful cat have to live with four rambunctious children under five years old and hide the majority of its days, or would it be better suited to a calmer household? There are times when the fit just isn’t right, and no amount of “training” will change that.

And most heartbreaking, there are those who describe their emotional attachment to their pet as maternal, and the loss breaks them. I get it — my pets are the closest thing to children I have, and I would literally do anything for them. But while we humanize pets, they are technically considered property in the eyes of the law. So when someone preaches how they would never give up their pet, even though it can feel the same, it’s not. You can love your pet like a child and still fall victim to life’s circumstances, and there is nothing to break your fall.

Here is how I explain the difference between children and pets: Children have a safety net in the form of government benefits. They can be claimed as dependents on taxes. They are eligible for free healthcare, daycare, and school lunches. They receive a free education, where they learn how to navigate the world (dog training is expensive). If they have a disability, they may qualify for Supplemental Security Income. Meanwhile, you can’t even use food stamps to buy pet food. This isn’t meant as a political critique — just a statement of where we are.

We find ourselves in an interesting conundrum within the animal welfare community. On one side of the shelter (Intake), onlookers are judging people for “giving up” their pet. On the literal other side of the same shelter (Adoption), we are begging people to adopt to save lives — and not only at the shelter, but at all types of offsite events in the community, from sporting events to breweries. Shelters are literally giving pets away for free to anyone who is at least eighteen years old, has a photo ID, and passes a background check for animal-related offenses. Please know, this is not a criticism of shelters AT ALL. Promoting adoption through community involvement, in a non-discriminatory way, is the most effective way to save lives, and we must continue to do so. Can you imagine how many more homeless and needlessly euthanized animals there would be if pet ownership were reserved only for people of a certain income level?

In terms of affordability, not everyone can afford a “gold-standard” of veterinary care, and that doesn’t necessarily make them a neglectful pet owner. We are lucky to live in a time that recognizes the barriers to pet ownership, and organizations are dedicated to providing resources to keep families together. Many areas offer pet food banks, vaccination clinics, and free (or very low-cost) spay/neuter services. Practical strangers are contributing to crowdfunding platforms such as Waggle, and grants are available for non-routine veterinary care.

But while these are incredible supplements to offset the cost of pet ownership, clinics typically offer only routine veterinary care, pet food banks’ inventory varies, and you can’t rely on being chosen to receive a grant that has limited funding (if you even have the benefit of time to wait for the care). Plus, these resources are not available in all geographic areas. I’ve worked with loving pet owners who have spent their last “X” hundred dollars to care for their pet’s emergency needs, but when the money runs out, or the credit card has hit its max, so do treatment options. Sometimes, surrendering their pet is the most selfless and compassionate thing they can do.

Before I worked in animal rescue, I would have never believed the dire situations I hear about every day are a thing that happens in a world I am apparently very sheltered from. When you have support to fall back on, it’s hard to imagine a reality where you don’t. I humbly admit that I can’t picture a world where I would lose my home. Or where I couldn’t afford the surgery my dog needs. Or where I couldn’t afford to have my dog groomed every eight weeks. Or where I couldn't afford a behaviorist to work with my anxious dog.

It’s easy to berate people and tell them what they should be doing when we view someone else’s life through our worldview, but it’s like comparing apples and oranges, and it’s not fair. While there are days I pay $50 for my dog to spend the day at doggie daycare, there is someone else who, on that same day, can’t afford a sick visit to treat a hot spot. 

So this is why it breaks my heart when I see people pouring the same brand of shame onto the person who has little to no emotional connection to their pet as we do to the person who is distraught over losing their beloved pet. Or the person who tried nothing to better the situation versus the person who gave it their all.

As if they deserve a medal, the people who proudly tell the world how they would live in their car with their dog before giving it up aren’t considering that not everyone owns a car. The person who brags about how they would never move somewhere that didn’t allow their pet is assuming everyone has housing options. They are fortunate to have the resources to overcome any obstacle to keep their pet, but it’s a privilege not afforded to everyone — again, apples and oranges.

It bears repeating: You can love your pet and still fall victim to life’s circumstances. You can love your pet and still be unable to live safely with them. Trust me — I see it every day. Unless you’ve had the lived experience of witnessing someone unable to breathe through the avalanche of tears pouring down their face as they hand off their pet and walk out of the shelter alone, I beg you to hold the commentary.

I used to feel an intense feeling of frustration (maybe even anger?) toward those who made judgments from behind the scenes — and, as a people pleaser who is terrified of conflict, that’s saying a lot. But in the process of writing this, I realized that I was doing the same thing — just toward the critics, and silently in my head. At the risk of sounding cliché, I now see where they are coming from, and I feel compassion for these loving protectors. They are experiencing a human reaction, driven by a love for animals and the outrage they feel upon learning that the animal is now homeless and at risk of dying. Of course, they are angry. They are standing up for the animal that has no voice. And as such, my anger came from my desire to stand up for the misunderstood grieving human who is being attacked. No one wins here.

The circumstances that lead to surrendering a pet are endless, and some feel more morally acceptable than others. Maybe someone is a terrible person — I’m not denying that there are people out there who do awful things to animals — but unless we know the whole story, it’s best to exercise caution with our words. I have found, more times than not, their human fell on hard times — and that is the heartbreaking reality, and shaming doesn’t help the situation. Not only does it scare people away from seeking help, but when someone does seek help, they risk being further broken by a type of public humiliation. We need to keep in mind that there is a person behind the vague backstory who may be going through the worst time of their life, and consider the human consequences. Imagine losing everything, including the pet you love dearly? I can’t.

Over the years I’ve worked in Intake, I show up with empathy, and I can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude that I am not in their position. I make sure to tell them how sorry I am that they ended up here — and I mean it. In certain conversations, I’m surprised to find myself in awe of these truth-tellers, who are brutally honest and vulnerable. Sometimes they call to check on their pet. They hold their breath while they wait to hear if they were adopted or euthanized. I imagine their heart feels torn between jealousy and joy when they find out they are starting a new life.

We are all entitled to our feelings, and I’m not here to change anyone’s mind or even ask that you start offering condolences. I’m just at a place where I can no longer let the fear of backlash stop me from speaking up. And, most importantly, to the grieving pet parent: You have every right to grieve for a pet that you chose to give up. You’re not the monster people are making you out to be. I see you, and I am so sorry for your loss.

Visit my website, Pet Therapy Notes, for resources and more insights on pet love and loss.

Related work:

Benefits, Myths, and Risks of Self-Rehoming Pets - And why we shouldn't be so quick to discourage it.

What Does “No-Kill” Shelter Really Mean? It’s not as simple as you might think.

When You Regret Adopting Your Dog: Don't Worry, It Gets Better.

Sometimes We Need Counseling for Pet/Human Relationships - When It's Not Love at First Bark