At some point over Super Bowl weekend, the chocolate Lab got a name: Payton, a nod to one of the starring quarterbacks, but spelled with an “a” in deference to the pup’s gender. Usually, the pets are named by the vet staff at the Humane Society when they are brought in for spay/neuter, but sometimes animal control officers come up with names and scrawl them on the cards on the pet cages.
“Every dog has a name. There are no numbers here,” Sands said. “We don’t look at the animals as a group of 30 dogs. We see 30 individual dogs.”
It’s Wednesday morning, and after eight days stuck in a cage, Payton gets to go for a ride — even if it is just to the Humane Society to be spayed. As several people approach her cage, Payton looks from one face to the next searchingly, her tail hanging down, as if looking for a sign as to her fate.
When The Star photographer steps into the cage to get a portrait of our cover dog, she bonds immediately with him, jumping, licking, wiggling, wagging.
A few minutes later, Payton responds to being outside again by sitting down on the ground next to the truck and refusing to budge. Animal control officer Scott Mendenhall lifts her up under her belly, saying, “That’s good. You’re all right,” and loads her into a cage in the back of a truck.
On this cold, gray day, sunlight suddenly crashes through a wall of clouds just as Mendenhall is pulling into the Humane Society. When Payton is lowered down onto a snow-covered patch of lawn, she wags her tail enthusiastically.
Maybe she can sense things are finally going to start getting better for her.
Veterinarian Michelle Taylor and vet tech Coleen Kent listen to the dog’s heart, examine her eyes and teeth, weigh her and praise her.
The verdict: Payton is a chocolate Lab, is about 8 months old, has a strong heart and weighs 40 pounds. She should come through the spay surgery just fine. And she does.
A few hours later, she’s back at the pound. Forty-eight hours till her big chance — a special Friday night adoption clinic in Olathe.
At 5:30 p.m. on Friday, an animal control truck pulls up in front of PetSmart, and officer Daniel Eskina unloads five lucky dogs — a Boxer, two 4-month-old black Lab puppies, a Beagle-Sheltie mix, a terrier mix and Payton — into the waiting arms of six volunteers, one for each dog.
Payton’s volunteer for the evening is Elise Everson of Olathe. Everson has been volunteering since November. She sits with a dog once a month at an adoption event and tries to persuade promising potential owners to give it a home.
“If they say they have another dog at home, we encourage them to go home and get the other dog and bring it back, to see how the two get along,” Everson says.
Payton is having a grand time, acting very much like a young Lab, straining on the leash and jumping up to greet anyone who pays her any attention. People, that is. She seems very disinterested in other dogs.
Except very large dogs. For some reason, every time a big dog comes in the store with its owner, Payton barks and barks and barks.
She gets a lot of attention, but by 7:30 p.m., four of the other dogs have been adopted, leaving only one under-the-weather black Lab puppy and Payton. What’s worse, fewer people are coming in, the later it gets. If nobody picks Payton in the next 30 minutes, it’s another night at the pound, then back here on Saturday.
Kansas City, Kan., Police Capt. Rodney Smith is the animal control director, and Sands credits him with the success of the program.
“He opened up his heart to us,” she said.
Smith has invested tremendous energy into the program for two reasons. One, he’s an animal lover. At the end of 2008, when Ray of Hope was in the planning stages but wasn’t set to launch until Jan. 1, 2009, Smith on his own initiative began transporting cats from the pound to pet stores and other groups for adoption.
Smith honestly believes in public-private cooperation.
“There’s a trust factor involved. As the police, you have to let people into your organization and they need someone here often. But it’s been a phenomenal success, and I think public-private cooperation is going to be wave of the future, in many areas,” he said.
This year, Smith has continued to improve on his organization’s staggering accomplishments of last year. For example, in January and February 2008, the pound euthanization rate was 64.3 percent of animals brought in. In the same period last year, the rate was 4.9 percent. In the same period this year, it was .48 percent.
Perhaps the best number of all: From January 2009, when the program began, to March 1 this year, 2,107 animals had been placed with adoptive families or rescue groups.
Last year, 79 animals were euthanized, compared with 2,199 in 2008. All the animals that were euthanized were either severely aggressive or gravely ill.
Despite his commitment to running a no-kill shelter, there has been no change in the number or type of dogs picked up, Smith says. No cherry-picking only nice dogs, in other words.
“We are part of the police department. Our main concern is picking up aggressive dogs,” he said.
Vestal, who has worked at animal control for eight years, says Ray of Hope has changed everything: “It makes you feel better about your job. Before, it was tough.”
It’s about 10 minutes to Payton getting shipped back to the pound when the Tenoves walk in the door — all seven of them.
The five Tenove children, ranging in age from 14 to 2, look briefly at the black Lab puppy, but he just wants to sleep, so they shower their full combined attention on Payton.
The parents walk up behind the kids — do they want a dog? The volunteers eye each other, wondering. Brian Tenove, the dad, says, “That’s a good-looking dog.”
Payton sits, Brian pets.
Heather Tenove, the mother, seems less enthused.
“I wanted a bigger dog, so that’s good,” she says. “But I don’t think she likes me.”
Her husband suggests she take Payton, sporting a bright orange jacket that says “Adopt me” for a walk around the store. Some of the children tag along, and Payton, indeed, seems more interested in them than in their mother.
But Heather slowly begins to warm to Payton.
“She’s gorgeous, actually, isn’t she?” she asks.
Another large dog appears, and Payton barks. Good timing — Heather is looking for a watchdog for when she is home alone.
“She has a voice,” Heather says.
It feels like the Tenoves are 95 percent ready to adopt Payton, but Brian decides to go get the family’s other dog, a terrier, to see how the dogs react to each other.
Fortunately, the smaller dog interests Payton very little, and when the terrier barks at her, she doesn’t respond in kind.
Then Heather tells Brian, “The kids want to name her Gracie,” and everyone in the room knows this is a done dog deal.
Like new parents at a baby super center, the Tenoves spend 30 minutes loading up their cart with a kennel (Payton isn’t housebroken yet), a cushion for the kennel, a pink collar and pink harness, dog bowls and a pink Kong toy.
Then it’s off in the family SUV to sweet home Olathe.
Inside the Tenoves’ two-story house that evening, it’s hard to say whether 2-year-old Rose or Payton is doing more running around. Both look happy and, one suspects, both will sleep soundly this night.
Robin Rowland has had her job directing fund development for the Humane Society for 5½ years. That’s a long time in animal welfare years. The nature of the work takes a toll. It’s exhausting and emotionally draining, Rowland said. But she’s not done yet.
Rowland feels she’s getting close to getting ongoing funding in place that will break the cycle of recurring financial crises followed by pleas through the media, followed by temporary reprieves.
She thinks if she can attract 400 more new donors, she will have a donor basis that will provide stability in the long term.
Targeted spay/neuter campaigns and trap/spay/neuter/release programs for feral cats, she thinks, are beginning to reduce the number of strays straining the system.
“My goal is that the only pets that get picked up by animal control will be lost pets, so they can be reunited with their owners,” Rowland said.
It’s a sunny morning, nearly two weeks after Payton — who now goes by Gracie — was granted her Happily Ever After with the Tenove family, and she seems to be loving it. The kids let her sleep on their beds until Mom and Dad move her into her crate late at night. (They’re still working on housebreaking.) And she loves lounging on the sectional sofa in the living room, especially with family members.
“She thinks she’s a lapdog,” Heather Tenove says.
As for the great outdoors, she has a fenced-in backyard to roam in, and the family takes her on frequent walks, including to an off-leash dog park nearby.
Remember Heather’s fears about the dog not liking her? Gracie follows her like a shadow.
Gracie also tries to protect her new family. One night, when some ice fell off the roof loudly in front of a window in the living room, Gracie positioned herself in between the window and the family.
“She has a protective instinct,” Heather says. “She is just a good dog. I don’t think we could have found a better dog.”
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KC Pets - Kansas City Pet Community - Follow a stray chocolate Lab on her journey to a brighter future