Let me preface this by saying it brings me no joy to read/view/post/have to think about the idea of animals being euthanized- especially in a gas chamber (even the words have such a cruel connotation), but this is an unfortunate reality that I hope to help change...
"Yes, I Gas Dogs and Cats for a Living. I'm an Animal Control officer
in a very small town in central North Carolina. I'm in my mid thirties,
and have been working for the town in different positions since high
school. There is not much work here, and working for the county provides
good pay and benefits for a person like
me without a higher education. I'm the person you all write about how
horrible I am. I'm the one that gasses the dogs and cats and makes them
suffer. I'm the one that pulls their dead corpses out smelling of Carbon
Monoxide and throws them into green plastic bags. But I'm also the one
that hates my job and hates what I have to do.
First off, all
you people out there that judge me, don't. God is judging me, and I know
I'm going to Hell. Yes, I'm going to hell. I wont lie, it's despicable,
cold, cruel and I feel like a serial killer. I'm not all to blame, if
the law would mandate spay and neuter, lots of these dogs and cats
wouldn't be here for me to gas. I'm the devil, I know it, but I want you
people to see that there is another side to me the devil Gas Chamber
man.
The shelter usually gasses on Friday morning. Friday's are
the day that most people look forward to, this is the day that I hate,
and wish that time will stand still on Thursday night. Thursday night,
late, after nobody's around, my friend and I go through a fast food
line, and buy 50 dollars worth of cheeseburgers and fries, and chicken.
I'm not allowed to feed the dogs on Thursday, for I'm told that they
will make a mess in the gas chamber, and why waste the food.
So, Thursday night, with the lights still closed, I go into the saddest
room that anyone can every imagine, and let all the doomed dogs out out
their cages. I have never been bit, and in all my years doing this, the
dogs have never fought over the food. My buddy and I, open each wrapper
of cheeseburger and chicken sandwich, and feed them to the skinny,
starving dogs.
They swallow the food so fast, that I don't
believe they even taste it. There tails are wagging, and some don't even
go for the food, they roll on their backs wanting a scratch on their
bellys. They start running, jumping and kissing me and my buddy. They go
back to their food, and come back to us. All their eyes are on us with
such trust and hope, and their tails wag so fast, that I have come out
with black and blues on my thighs.. They devour the food, then it's time
for them to devour some love and peace. My buddy and I sit down on the
dirty, pee stained concrete floor, and we let the dogs jump on us. They
lick us, they put their butts in the air to play, and they play with
each other. Some lick each other, but most are glued on me and my buddy.
I look into the eyes of each dog. I give each dog a name.
They will not die without a name.
I give each dog 5 minutes of unconditional love and touch.
I talk to them, and tell them that I'm so sorry that tomorrow they will
die a gruesome, long, torturous death at the hands of me in the gas
chamber.
Some tilt their heads to try to understand.
I tell them, that they will be in a better place, and I beg them not to hate me.
I tell them that I know I'm going to hell, but they will all be playing with all the dogs and cats in heaven.
After about 30 minutes, I take each dog individually, into their feces
filled concrete jail cell, and pet them and scratch them under their
chins. Some give me their paw, and I just want to die. I just want to
die. I close the jail cell on each dog, and ask them to forgive me. As
my buddy and I are walking out, we watch as every dog is smiling at us
and them don't even move their heads. They will sleep, with a full
belly, and a false sense of security.
As we walk out of the doomed dog room, my buddy and I go to the cat room.
We take our box, and put the very friendly kittens and pregnant cats in our box.
The shelter doesn't keep tabs on the cats, like they do the dogs.
As I hand pick which cats are going to make it out, I feel like I'm playing God, deciding whose going to live and die.
We take the cats into my truck, and put them on blankets in the back.
Usually, as soon as we start to drive away, there are purring cats sitting on our necks or rubbing against us.
My buddy and I take our one way two hour trip to a county that is very
wealthy and they use injection to kill animals.
We go to exclusive neighborhoods, and let one or two cats out at a time.
They don't want to run, they want to stay with us. We shoo them away, which makes me feel sad.
I tell them that these rich people will adopt them, and if worse comes
to worse and they do get put down, they will be put down with a painless
needle being cradled by a loving veterinarian. After the last cat is
free, we drive back to our town.
It's about 5 in the morning now, about two hours until I have to gas my best friends.
I go home, take a shower, take my 4 anti-anxiety pills and drive to
work.. I don't eat, I can't eat. It's now time, to put these animals in
the gas chamber. I put my ear plugs in, and when I go to the collect the
dogs, the dogs are so excited to see me, that they jump up to kiss me
and think they are going to play.
I put them in the rolling
cage and take them to the gas chamber. They know. They just know. They
can smell the death.. They can smell the fear. They start whimpering,
the second I put them in the box. The boss tells me to squeeze in as
many as I can to save on gas. He watches. He knows I hate him, he knows I
hate my job. I do as I'm told. He watches until all the dogs, and cats
(thrown in together) are fighting and screaming. The sounds is very
muffled to me because of my ear plugs. He walks out, I turn the gas on,
and walk out.
I walk out as fast as I can. I walk into the
bathroom, and I take a pin and draw blood from my hand. Why? The pain
and blood takes my brain off of what I just did.
In 40 minutes,
I have to go back and unload the dead animals. I pray that none
survived, which happens when I overstuff the chamber. I pull them out
with thick gloves, and the smell of carbon monoxide makes me sick. So
does the vomit and blood, and all the bowel movements. I pull them out,
put them in plastic bags.
They are in heaven now, I tell
myself. I then start cleaning up the mess, the mess, that YOU PEOPLE are
creating by not spay or neutering your animals. The mess that YOU
PEOPLE are creating by not demanding that a vet come in and do this
humanely. You ARE THE TAXPAYERS, DEMAND that this practice STOP!
So, don't call me the monster, the devil, the gasser, call the
politicians, the shelter directors, and the county people the devil.
Heck, call the governor, tell him to make it stop.
As usual, I will
take sleeping pills tonight to drown out the screams I heard in the
past, before I discovered the ear plugs. I will jump and twitch in my
sleep, and I believe I'm starting to hallucinate.
This is my life. Don't judge me. Believe me, I judge myself enough."
Anonymous in North Carolina"
This is one of those sad letters written by an "anonymous worker." I put in quotes because who's to say whether it's from an anonymous worker or an anonymous activist that just wants to be heard. What I can say is that regardless of who wrote it, this is still happening...in a civilized country. We're the people who are responsible for this. Oh no, not you? Don't you think our tax dollars are used to fund these inhumane, torturous deaths? We have to change this. We have to stand up against this cruel act. We have to contact our legislatures and governors and policy makers and demand our tax money be put to better use. We have to demand there be punishment for people who habitually surrender animals, who don't spay and neuter, who abandon their animals, or turn them loose when they don't want them anymore. We have to insist that North Carolina nor America is going to be a place where animals are thrown into a gas chamber to die slowly, in pain, scared, and confused. Make a difference.
