Social justice and animal welfare

It might seem like a small thing, giving a dog a bath and a haircut. But grooming keeps dogs like Freeda from getting painful, matted hair. Amanda Arrington, HSUS vice president of access to care, says she’s seen too many instances where an ungroomed dog led to citations or criminal charges for “lack of care.” Yet the service can be pricey, and groomers often require proof of vaccination, a struggle for people who can’t access veterinary care.

When you multiply that one grooming service times a million, you get a million small acts that add up to something big: a radical reframing of the way we care for pets and their families. The HSUS Pets for Life program has helped lead that reframing as it makes pet care more attainable.

Today, some 20 million pets live in poverty with their families across the U.S.—and 70% of those pets have never seen a veterinarian. It’s not for lack of interest or desire; 28% of all pet owners report an inability to access veterinary care.

Since 2011, Pets for Life has been working to bridge that gap between pet care and the animals who need it. The program provides resources such as veterinary care, spay/neuter services, grooming, behavioral training, supplies and more at no cost to people and their pets in underserved communities. Teams operate out of two flagship locations in Los Angeles and Philadelphia, but even more work happens at 50-plus mentorship partners across the country—including the Better Together Animal Alliance in Ponderay, Idaho, where Janis is a client.

That nuance can get lost in discussions about equity and access to care, especially within the animal welfare community, where emotions often run high. All too often, we forget that not everyone has the same background when it comes to animal care.

“There’s this assumption that everybody is operating from the same sheet of music,” says Tai Conley, HSUS senior principal strategist of diversity, equity and inclusion programs. It comes from a good place; we all love animals and want to see them thrive. But what if we’re not on the same page? What if pet care looks different in one community from how it looks in another, and what if providing services and support ensures that a family can enjoy the love and companionship of an animal in the way that makes sense for them?

Animal welfare organizations’ actions tend to reflect a specific set of beliefs: that all pets must be adopted, immediately sterilized and cared for in a very specific way using very specific products and approaches. That attitude is often echoed on social media and elsewhere: If you can’t afford a pet, you shouldn’t have one. Programs such as Pets for Life and RAVS challenge that assumption, asking us to broaden our understanding. Is it better to remove a pet from a home because her guardian can’t afford kibble at the end of the month, when money is extra tight? Or is it actually better—for animal and human alike—to connect her guardian with a pet food pantry, preserving their bond?

Taken to its logical conclusion, the argument about affordability suggests that only people with a certain socioeconomic status and certain living arrangements are worthy of having a pet, says Conley. And that “really flies in the face of what we’re looking to do when we’re talking about homing pets. It only exacerbates a problem versus creating solutions.”

“Are we saying that euthanization is a better option than a loving home that just doesn’t have as much financial resource?” asks Conley. “Are we saying that these animals would rather be in unfamiliar environments like a shelter than with the families they’re familiar with?” And if the answer is no, then what does it take to keep pets with the families who love them—and to offer the resources those families need?

Meeting people where they are

When we talk about increasing access to care, affordability tends to dominate the conversation. Yet affordability is only part of the story.

“The first thing that folks tend to think is that it’s all about economics, right? And that if it’s just affordable, if it’s free care, then it’s accessible,” says Wojdak. In reality, “access” is more complex. Building on principles used in human social services, the HSUS defines “access” as providing resources that are available, attainable, affordable, appropriate and accepted.

Both Wojdak and Arrington are hopeful about where this conversation can take us, not just as animal welfare advocates, but as people who care about other humans, too.

Arrington acknowledges that it’s easy to get impatient. “When you’re in the middle of it, it can seem slow,” she says, but stepping back offers perspective.

There’s been progress in the tenor of the conversation around these issues. Just a decade ago, says Arrington, almost everyone bought into the belief that if you can’t afford a pet, you shouldn’t have one. Pets for Life, with its nonjudgmental approach of simply meeting people where they are, was quietly radical.

“There wasn’t just a disagreement on the philosophy that Pets for Life was promoting. There was real pushback,” says Arrington. Naysayers suggested that Pets for Life would “enable” people who “shouldn’t” have pets, or that community outreach wasn’t safe, or that underserved communities were rampant with animal cruelty and fighting. These days, as conversations about equity have become louder, the naysayers have gotten quieter. 

Change has been “so incremental that it’s easy to not see the progress,” adds Wojdak. But when she reflects on her 20 years doing this work, Wojdak does see it. Then, students joined RAVS primarily for the hands-on clinical experience. As for topics such as shelter medicine and access to care, “none of that was part of the conversation at all,” she says. Today, students learn about these issues in school.

Wojdak also sees progress in the types of issues RAVS addresses. These days she notices fewer preventable illnesses, such as canine parvovirus and sarcoptic mange, and she says more animals are receiving vaccinations and preventive care.