Pandemic creates new challenges for animal shelters

PABLO — A small, gray-striped cat stared at Maranda as she unlocked the door to the Mission Valley Animal Shelter one day in late February, savoring her last moment of silence for the next 10 hours. She stepped in and was met with the barking of the nine resident canines. It wasn’t the most dogs they’d had at the shelter, but certainly enough to fill the kennels — and she was their sole guardian for the weekend.

Her first task was to walk Lilybean, the new arrival. The skinny black lab was being kept in an isolation room, as she was just brought in two days ago. As soon as Maranda opened the door to the back, Lilybean leapt onto her.

“Easy, girl,” Maranda said. She calmed the excited dog, attached her leash and started outside.

The Mission Valley Animal Shelter is the only shelter on the Flathead Indian Reservation, an area that stretches from Arlee to Polson to Hot Springs. This nearly 2,000-square-mile sector of western Montana is home to hundreds of stray dogs, or “rez dogs,” as they’re sometimes called.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, it has become increasingly difficult for animal shelters like Mission Valley to provide shelter and care to their residents. Within an Indian reservation that lacks an official animal control unit, these shelters are perhaps the most vital organizations keeping dogs fed and housed.

As Maranda returned from Lilybean’s walk, her co-worker, Tiara, who’s responsible for puppy care, was just getting out of her car. Lilybean ran up to her.

“Oh, you’re gonna be friendly now?” Tiara said, scratching Lilybean behind the ear.

“Seems much more comfortable today,” Maranda said.

With Lilybean taken care of, it was time to let the other eight dogs out before they were fed. The dogs entered the two yards in pairs. Up first were sisters Hunny and Phaze. They were the quietest of the bunch, never barking unless invited to by Mollie or Coal, the chronic noise-makers. Hunny and Phaze both have creamy fur and pointed ears, though Phaze has brown spots on her back that Hunny lacks. As soon as they are let into the yard, they take off running.

While the two played outside, Maranda cleaned out their kennels. She had always wanted to work a hands-on job with animals in need. She first started at MVAS five years ago as a receptionist, but left because it didn’t feel like she was making a difference as directly as she would’ve liked. She moved on to Petco for a few years, but came back to MVAS when a position in dog care opened up. It’s been 18 months since, and she’s been given no cause for regret.

Maranda is now the only weekend dog care worker at the shelter, a job that’s even more daunting than it sounds. She is responsible for all of the pooches, each one with a strikingly different personality. Most days, Maranda relies on volunteers to provide personalized attention to the dogs through walks, something she rarely has time for, but due to COVID-10, only three volunteers remain.

This trend is consistent with other shelters in the surrounding area. Cliff Bennett, the director of the Flathead County Animal Shelter in Kalispell, said that they almost cut volunteers completely.

“When you only have two or three animal care people each day, and one office admin person, you can’t risk losing them to illness,” Bennett said.

The Mission Valley shelter is almost alone in its mission. The Wildlife Pest Control in Polson only deals with the abundance of natural critters that inhabit the reservation. Two nearby dog rescues focus on fostering out dogs rather than keeping them, although a surgery forced the owner of one to close its doors. MVAS is in scarce company.

When she’s finished cleaning, Maranda calls to Hunny and Phaze, who come bounding back to her. Once the girls are back behind their gates, she brings out Mollie and Rayder.

Rayder was the only true rez dog living at MVAS at the time, although that number is usually much higher. The rest of the dogs were brought in by their owners for a variety of reasons, including the pressures of moving, an underestimation of responsibility or behavioral issues on the animal’s part.

Rayder was found in November by a woman who decided to take him into her home for the night. It wasn’t long before she found that in an act of desperation, he had killed and eaten her cat. She left him tied up outside MVAS for an employee to discover the next day.

These days Rayder prefers chewing on a fuzzy, green chew toy with bulging eyeballs. His shiny fur, soft eyes and wagging tail betray the fact that he’s a convicted cat killer.

As Maranda washed the dogs’ blankets, Tiara appeared in the doorway.

“I forgot to say,” Maranda said, “I saw a black cat running around on the way in. You can maybe try to catch it.” As Tiara walked away, Maranda continued. “Didn’t look like it wanted to be caught.”

Stray animals are not a new issue on reservations, and dogs especially can be a burden on the local populous. They can damage property and livestock, give harmful bites and are especially dangerous to children. Even more common are car accidents involving rez dogs, which happen almost daily.

Luckily, both the Mission Valley and Flathead County shelters agree that COVID-19 has likely resulted in a decrease in rez dog numbers, or at least flattened the curve. Maranda said that with more time on their hands, a greater number of people are willing to take in new pets. Bennett said people being at home more frequently helps them identify issues in fencework that can be fixed, or spot strays in the neighborhood that can be taken care of sooner.

That’s likely what happened with Rayder, and the former cat owner who brought him in. Like many other dogs, he wound up at MVAS.

Almost through the dogs, Maranda brought the jet-black, famously anxious Coal out, along with Macy, a relaxed, coffee-colored canine with a black sniffer. She traded them for Ollie and Jodi, the shelter’s little yappers. As Maranda cleaned out Coal and Macy’s kennels, Jodi wriggled through the bars to join Ollie in his. She was generally less nervous when she had company.

When the kennel cleaning was finally over, Maranda brought in the final pair and prepared for feeding. The dogs all knew the drill, unable to hide their excitement at the prospect of their first daily meal.

Overcrowded kennels are all but synonymous with animal shelters as a whole, and with fewer staffers in the age of coronavirus, it can be incredibly difficult to handle. Many shelters, including FCAS, have combatted this by becoming “managed intake” shelters, meaning they only take in owner surrenders and not strays. MVAS is the only shelter in the greater Flathead area that hasn’t made this change. All dogs are still welcome there.

Shelters are also fighting overcrowding with the KEITH project, which stands for “Keep ‘Em In Their Homes.” It was officially titled by Flathead County Animal Shelter and was launched to help decrease the amount of owner surrenders. It’s an effort to pay food, new fencing or behavioral training costs to keep dog intake low. MVAS does something similar, mostly focused on behavior adjustment.

With the first half of her day over, Maranda took a breather before gearing up to face her afternoon tasks. Rayder had an appointment with a prospective family, and Maranda needed to make sure the sassy cat, Etta, who hangs out by the front desk, was safely stored in the bathroom before they arrived. Rayder has come a long way since his cat-killing days.

Meanwhile, a few miles south of Polson, two large, wolf-like dogs were scavenging from a deer carcass on the side of the road.

Learn more

The Mission Valley Animal Shelter is open from 11 a.m. to 5 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday. The nonprofit shelter accepts donations of grain-free cat and dog food. Donations and sponsorships are other ways to support the shelter’s mission. To learn more, visit www.missionvalleyanimalshelter.org.

Josh Moyar is a student is a journalism student at the University of Montana.