As proclaimed in the New York Times, Pope Francis is definitely a pope for all species. Like we noted in the past the pope has not only shown compassion and concern for animals but has suggested, underscoring what a previous pontiff had declared, that there is a place in heavens for animals. I’m sure we can all agree that what would a heaven be without dogs. But to see the joyfulness that this spiritual leader greats, acknowledges and blesses dogs is its own blessing. His visit to the White House would of course include a meet and greet with the ebullient pair Bo and Sunny, canine members of the Obama family.

It’s also important to note that in Laudato Si’, his encyclical on the environment that he warned that, “We must forcefully reject the notion that our being created in God’s image and given dominion over the earth justifies absolute domination over other creatures. The Bible has no place for a tyrannical anthropocentrism.” Certainly a strong position on animal right’s! Laudato Si’, translated in English is either as “Be Praised” or “Praised Be,” and is a quotation from a popular prayer of St. Francis of Assisi written in 1224 praising God for the creation of the different creatures and aspects of the Earth. “Be praised, my Lord, through all Your creatures, especially through my lord Brother Sun,” St. Francis wrote in the third stanza of the prayer. He then continued, expressing praise to God for “Sister Moon,” “Brothers Wind and Air,” “Sister Water,” “Brother Fire,” and “Mother Earth.”

As noted by Nicholas Kristof:

Charles Camosy, a Catholic theologian at Fordham University who has written a book about the theology of animal protection, says that Francis’ carefully reviewed encyclical this year constitutes the first authoritative Catholic statements that animals enjoy eternal life.

It was so fitting that this pope took the name of the patron saint of animals, St. Francis of Assisi, and has followed him with humane and enlightened positions. It is wonderful to see him visit our country, spreading his inspiring messages wherever he goes.

The first week of September saw a heartwarming example of positive political action when California lawmakers of all persuasions voted to make shelter animals the new official state pet. In both the Assembly and the Senate, the votes were all ayes, no nays.

ACR-56, introduced by Assemblymember Eric Linder (R-Corona), is numbers-driven bill. As it points out, there are currently around 8,000,000 abandoned pets living in animal shelters in the United States, and of these, 3,000,000 to 4,000,000 are euthanized every year.

Like shelters everywhere, those in California stretch to help the animals who come into their care, and it's a big, big job. It's hoped that greater public awareness will get more dogs and cats (and the occasional rabbit, guinea pig or chicken) out of shelter care and into forever homes.

Though the numbers are daunting, keep this in mind: every single adoption makes a difference. The dogs and cats who find new homes also find new lives. For them, it's a 100 percent win.

Skimming Uganda’s morning newspaper in April 2001 over my almost burnt toast and black coffee, I was struck by a story—or maybe by the picture. An American woman living in Kampala, working on conservation projects, was inspiring big changes at the Uganda Society for the Protection and Care of Animals (USPCA), setting up spay days and community education programs and helping to build a new animal care center in an impoverished neighborhood. She has serious challenges ahead, I thought to myself. Most likely just another do-gooder whose idealistic dreams soon will be shattered against the rocky shores of reality.

Later that night, in the quiet of my room, I was reminded again of the story. My window was open, and through it came a sound common to many East African cities: the barking of dogs. Their vocalizations pierced the night, moving in waves, getting closer, moving away, sometimes wailing or high-pitched, sometimes yippy, sometimes singsong, like the cries of wild animals. I never thought much about these urban dogs and their lives, even though I had spent many nights lying awake listening to their howls.

In much of rural Africa, dogs are highly regarded—I have often come across a herder or a hunter cradling his dog’s head in his lap, gently petting her or scratching her ears, and I know a man in rural Tanzania, a market trader, who carries his crippled dog around with him everywhere he goes. But life in the cities is different for dogs. That closeness, that warmth of relationship, often is lost in the urban hustle.

Face to Face
Some weeks later, in Kampala, I was meeting with the Uganda Wildlife Authority, the agency responsible for the country’s national parks. Sitting across from me was Karen Menczer, the woman from the newspaper, the do-gooder, the person I’d thought of as an overly idealistic “junkyard warrior”: She was short, with muscular arms, a shock of dark hair, and water bottle at hand (an obvious fitness fanatic). After the meeting she approached. “Hi, I have a big favor to ask you.” Here it comes, she wants a copy of one of my books, I thought. But that wasn’t it. Instead, Karen asked me to look over her “Simba collection,” about 500 pictures of Ugandans with a dog named Simba.

Daily, with the permission of his owners, Karen took Simba for a walk so he could get out of the small wooden box to which he was confined when he was not guarding his owner’s shop from midnight to 6 AM. Walking a dog is an unusual sight in most African cities, and Kampala is no exception. The pair first elicited stares, then curiosity overcame shyness. Before long, Karen and Simba had plenty of company on their walks. Karen used Simba as a humane-education dog, showing people how to approach him and pet him. Then she began taking pictures of Simba with his new friends and giving out the pictures as souvenirs. Children were especially curious about Simba, and Karen requested and received permission to bring the dog to schools to help educate children about animals.

The Simba pictures really grabbed me. There was Simba with friendly Ugandans in Kampala’s rough suburbs—muddy roads, piles of garbage, places with mostly no electricity and no indoor plumbing. Karen had captured the children and their parents in their homes and yards, goofing off for the camera and having a ball with Simba.

But it was not all rosy success stories.

Key to Change
In her wallet Karen carries a key, a reminder of the cruelty that befalls animals, the sad reality for many dogs and cats in the world. Karen had given a USPCA doghouse (one of the organization’s projects, intended to encourage humane treatment) to a young boy she befriended. The boy, Joshua, had a small puppy he’d named Sammy. Karen liked both the boy and the puppy, and visited them often. Sammy loved the new, airy doghouse, so different from the dark, cramped crate he had lived in. Joshua explained that the doghouse needed to be locked because someone might try to steal Sammy; he kept one key and gave Karen the other as a sign of trust. One day, she went to visit, but Sammy was not there. Karen asked where he was. “Oh, we killed it,” one of the local boys said. He and his friends, including Joshua, had stoned Sammy to death. Karen was stunned.

Rather than give in to anger, Karen’s response was to use Sammy’s murder as a community education opportunity. With the help of a friend—a large, powerful, eloquent Ugandan man who commanded respect through dignity—she rounded up the children and their parents, and he spoke to them in Luganda, their own language, to affirm the ideals of sanctity of life and talk against cruelty to animals. He cajoled, he shamed, he encouraged and he enlightened. Karen is certain that this community meeting changed the attitudes of the children present, and that they will carry the lessons learned that day into adulthood. Single actions can make a difference.

As we sifted through the Simba pictures, Karen told me more stories about how most dogs in East African cities live. Unlike in the villages—where dogs are kept for hunting, for herding and as companions, and where crime is rare—life in the city has changed the relationship between humans and their dogs. People in the cities have dogs for guarding. Dogs are “trained” to guard by being confined to a small wooden box, which is rarely big enough for them to stand up or turn around in, for about 18 hours a day. Sometimes, multiple dogs will share one box. The dogs can see nothing outside the box; their world is the lifeless space of those few square feet. Only one person is allowed to feed the dog; everyone else is the enemy. Tough behavior is encouraged by feeding the dog hot chilies, beating on his box, prodding him with sticks to make him angry, perhaps even starving him to make him alert and always on the prowl for food—a sure recipe for a mean and mistrustful canine.

The Uganda SPCA is trying to educate people about more humane methods of keeping and training dogs, while providing free spay/neuter and other veterinary care for animals in need. In Kampala, Karen discovered that many people thought vets treated only livestock, not cats and dogs. Moreover, most were not aware of the use of anesthesia for animal surgery, or even that surgery could be done on animals. As a USPCA field supervisor, Karen helped develop many of these USPCA services. Her management style also encouraged a sense of collegiality as she worked with local professional staff and training volunteers, some of whom have gone on to spread the word and work for change in Ugandans’ perceptions of animals. For example, Katia Ruiz Allard, one of the founders of USPCA, continues the work, ably aided by Berna Nakanwagi, the USPCA vet, and Ibra Nakasero, the volunteer humane officer; Nakanwagi and Nakasero are both Ugandans who care about dogs and are trying to improve the lot of Uganda’s animals.

In a developing country rife with pressing social issues, Karen also encountered some of the other challenges of being a grassroots animal welfare activist: negotiating with Muslim leaders in a village before setting up a spay day; learning that when you instruct someone to put their dog “inside” for a day or two after she has been spayed, “inside” might mean inside the chicken coop; and dealing with a shelter manager who is selling dogs and pocketing the proceeds. One of the pleasures: discovering that it is often the poorest people who treat their dogs with the greatest respect and care.

Leaving Uganda in 2002, Karen moved on to other aid projects—first to Gaborone, Botswana, and later, in 2004, to Accra, Ghana, where she served on the boards of the national SPCAs. There was no shortage of enthusiastic local volunteers in either country, but each had a different perception of dogs. In Botswana, a prosperous diamond-exporting nation, dogs are kept in open yards primarily as guards, and pedigreed animals are increasingly common as local attitudes toward improved care and feeding have shifted. In Ghana, dogs simply are not very popular. While it is uncommon in both countries to see dogs running around on the streets, when Karen walked dogs in Gaborone people would sometimes approach her with curiosity, even pet the dog, but in Accra, people showed no interest, or sometimes even shooed her away. They explained that since dogs are unable to speak, they cannot have feelings; and besides, they are dirty. And there were rumors about some tribes even eating dogs.

Yet, in this environment, the Ghana Society for the Protection and Care of Animals (GSPCA) sprang up as a result of the efforts of two Ghanaians, David Nyoagbe and Roland Azantilow. They had been WSPA Kindness Club leaders in school, and decided that they wanted to improve the lot of dogs throughout Ghana. After consultation with WSPA, they registered as a nongovernmental charity. Karen arrived within their first year of operation and before long became a board member and treasurer. She immediately started helping to raise the visibility of the organization by working with the vendors in the market where puppies were sold.
Puppy market vendors sell dogs like they sell shoes and bananas.

A car drives up, the passengers stay in the car, the vendors run up with a puppy in each hand (and sometimes one under the arm) and push the puppies through the open window into the client’s face. The haggling starts, and when it’s done, for about $3, the car’s occupants drive off with a malnourished puppy. GSPCA worked with the vendors to improve their care of the dogs as well as moderate their rather aggressive marketing methods. They held a course on dog care, and all graduates received a certificate. (The vendors’ marketing skills still need a little work, however.)

Lessons Learned
After more than 10 years living abroad, working as an international natural resources consultant in Uganda, Botswana, Ghana and Jamaica, Karen, her husband, and her three African dogs and two cats (one African, one Jamaican), moved back to Jemez Springs, New Mexico, in 2006. She still finds time to work with African SPCAs between her extensive business trips to Africa, eastern Europe and Latin America. Of course, as she has been for the last 30 years, she is deeply involved with local animal welfare issues in her new home; she is now president of the Jemez Valley Animal Amigos, working in the local community to improve conditions for dogs and cats, promote spay/neuter, and help find homes for stray and unwanted dogs and cats. So, what lessons did Karen bring back with her to the U.S.? Her own words say it best.

“It’s easy to misinterpret. You learn to ask questions, listen, ask more questions, listen a lot more, and ask any possible question you can come up with so you can get the whole picture.

 “It’s all about the pet owners trying to figure you out, and you trying to figure them out, and along the way, you make little improvements for the animal, slowly, slowly (as we say in Uganda). After a year or two, you realize you’ve made an impact.

“Working with animals in Africa is all about working with people. It’s that way in the U.S. also, but in Africa it is even more: You become an auntie to all the families you are working with. There are expectations of you as an auntie, you get invited to weddings and funerals, you have to make a contribution to all the big family events. If a member of the family is sick, you will be asked to assist; the families expect you to come into the house, be a guest, join them for tea. When you start working with African families to help them improve the lives of their pets, you take on all the responsibilities of being one of the family.”

And what about Simba, the dog Karen took out of his crate and walked each day—the dog she used for animal education? Karen had always been bothered that Simba’s only moments of freedom and happiness were on their walks together. So, one day, very early in the morning, she lured him into her truck and drove him straight to the home of a loving family who would care for him, feed him and take him for the daily walks he loved. A couple of days later, she was on the plane leaving Uganda, moving on to the next adventure and the next country that needed an energetic “junkyard warrior.”

Karen Menczer can be contacted at perros2@earthlink.net or through her foundation, animal-kind.org.

The call initially came in of loose dogs at a rural address. I pulled up half an hour later and was surprised to find a large number of dogs barking at me from behind a secure fence. They looked like maybe beagle, corgi, fox terrier type mixes and my rough count was about 10-15 dogs. None of them matched the description of the stray dogs and the fence seemed secure but there were other issues here.

I knocked on the door and a man answered who seemed pale and weak. He apologized for his condition and explained that he was undergoing treatment for a serious illness. He had started out with just a couple of dogs and they had puppies. More litters were born and he just didn’t know what to do with them and was too sick to really spend much time on it. The dogs looked healthy and had a spacious yard, food, water and shelter but this rampant breeding just couldn’t continue.

After further questioning I found a variety of challenges including finances and his health. After consulting with shelter staff it was agreed that he would sign over several dogs a week until he was down to his legal limit of four. We would also spay and neuter the remaining dogs for him at very low cost. We would even pick them up and drop them off after surgery as he was too sick to drive. On that day he signed over 4 darling puppies of about 8 weeks of age. As I carried the puppies to my truck I smiled at how cute they were. They would be easy to rehome.

I was surprised to see one of the puppies still in the kennels the following week. He was adorable little morsel of white and black spots with a waggy tail and a happy smile. I couldn’t believe he wasn’t up for adoption yet. His siblings had been adopted immediately. A quick check of his records showed a major heart murmur. A 6/6 is as bad as it gets. He would have a greatly shortened life span and could die suddenly at any time or go into heart failure at an early age. It was a huge dilemma. Who wants to adopt a puppy that could die before his first birthday?

The puppy saw a cardiology specialist who thought that surgery could potentially increase his lifespan significantly but at great cost and it couldn’t even be done until he was more mature. What to do? How do you find someone willing to take on such a monumental uncertainty and expense?

The decision was made to put the puppy, who was later named Max, up for adoption with full disclosure and see what happened. I took Max out to the play yard whenever I could and I could feel his heart though his chest wall when I carried him. It wasn’t anything resembling a heartbeat, more of a strange fluttering movement. It made me sad but when I looked into his big brown eyes and smiling mouth I was reminded of what is so great about dogs. Dogs live in the moment. Max doesn’t care about what may or may not happen in the future. He’s full of love and joy and all he cares about is that I’m rubbing his tummy or tossing a toy for him. There’s so much to be learned from dogs.

I loved spending time with Max but I kept thinking “he’s gonna break someone’s heart.” But the more I thought about it, the more I was reminded that they all break our hearts. And they’re worth it, for however long or short we have them. 

I was thrilled a few days later to hear that Max had been adopted and his adopters are absolutely willing to do surgery or whatever is needed to give him the best life possible. I called his adopter, Laurie, and thanked her for adopting him. I asked her why she chose to take on such a difficult project and she had the perfect answer. She said, “Because he needs love just like everyone else.”