Kiosk country and its community pets
by Davide Ulivieri, Cycle 4 Strays
The difference strikes you as soon as you deplane and wander through the terminal in the general direction of immigration. Space. As in "Personal space." There is none. What you have is shared space and everybody is vying for a piece of it. Once outside, the scene becomes more intense, as in more confused, hectic, louder.
Sweaty bedlam seems to describe it well, but it all happens in a charming sort of way. Maybe it is the bright tropical sun or these huge, fluffy cloud formations that seem to float in mid air or the vendors trying to grab my attention from behind their small kiosks
as official and unofficial taxi drivers tug at my sleeve pointing to their vehicles, but the whole scene is so real, so colorful and so in my face that I can’t help but love it. Welcome to Central America! Love it or hate it, but one thing is for sure: you won’t find it dull. The streets are impossibly crowded and traffic flows at a neck breaking pace with total disregard for lanes, lights, signs and pedestrians. Not to mention the dogs. 
Aah, the dogs. They are everywhere, traipsing around the sidewalks, crossing the street, darting through cars, napping in the shade, sitting next to a food kiosk begging for scraps. Naturally, given the fact that I’ve spent the past 18 years of my life around dogs, either handling my own, volunteering or working for animal rescue groups, I tend to pay attention to
these furry wanderers. The first thing that strikes me is how friendly, well behaved and non aggressive they are. They walk around nose on the ground, frequently looking up and making eye contact, tongues hanging sideways, smiling and panting in the sticky tropical heat. Occasionally, they stop for a quick scratch, a whiz against a wall or a tree, or to gobble up a tasty piece of garbage. I watch them carefully and marvel at their street skills and at the fact that, for the most part, they appear reasonably healthy.
A few days later, perched on an outside stool and sipping a fruit smoothie, I strike a conversation with the lady behind the counter. I point to a couple of mutts wandering in the near vicinity and inquire about their existence.
“Son callejeros…” she answers. Strays.
A third dog joins the pair and, tails wagging, they are off together towards a mini market or "Pulperia", as the locals refer to these small stores that often double as unofficial community centers.
“What about that one?” I reply, pointing at the newcomer.
“Oh, that’s mine, Blanquito , he eats at the Pulpe, they call him Nikki over there.”
“Wait a minute… Blanquito or Nikki, owned by them or you, living here or there?” I ask, immediately getting excited.
“Tranquillo, hombre. Si.” is her curt reply. Chill out, man. Yes, is the answer to all my three questions.
Welcome to the concept of community dogs, where the same dog shares multiple owners/feeders. After all, in a region where 90% of life happens on the street, it is only normal that pets live there too. So, dogs are born on the street, raised on the street and the street with its bustling life becomes their support system. They quickly learn the ropes from their older siblings, make alliances, join packs and go about their business with such positive attitude that you can’t help but wish you could hug them all, feed them all, adopt them all and take them all to a better place. Wait… Where would this better place be? They live here, they know who is always ready with a bowl of rice, some left over chicken and a kind word, who instead boots them away and who is simply indifferent to their existence. Most of them have never seen a vet and most vets in rural areas tend to work predominantly with large animals in farm settings anyway. Once you become involved with animal rescue you quickly discover that every neighborhood has its Dog Helper and Cat Lady (I have yet to meet a neighborhood Cat Gentleman here) and that, since no dogs are ever on leash and very few wear collars, it is often impossible to distinguish between a Street Owned Dog and a Street Stray Dog. In other words, until you are very familiar with a certain community and have followed the dogs around to learn the ropes yourself, you are better off not rescuing every happy go lucky mutt that crosses the street in front of you because you might then have some explaining to do.
Community outreach and education is the answer here. The core problem, overpopulation, originated in the community and the only way to really make a difference is to promote a change within the community. A cultural change, that is. In countries where people are simply too poor to go to school, provide for their families and lead what we perceive as “Normal lives” from a financial point of view, domestic animals occupy the very bottom rung of the ladder. Often dearly loved, but completely misunderstood, companion animals suffer the consequences of their owners' ignorance, not being allowed inside or near babies for fear of mysterious diseases, fed only human scraps or not fed at all since they are believed to be able to provide for themselves on the streets and generally neglected in terms of health care because the resources are simply not available.
In countries where the concept of spaying and neutering your pet has never been promoted or explained, people are reluctant to fix their animals in fear of inflicting unnecessary pain or perceiving the surgery as a limitation of their own manhood. Not to mention the fact that often they simply cannot afford it. Promoting change means dispelling myths, educating people on how to become more responsible pet owners, promoting spay and neuter to control population, teaching vets how to perform low-cost minimally invasive surgeries, involving the owners in such procedures by teaching them post surgical care and, slowly, but surely, intervene within the community so that it becomes a better, more livable environment for all its denizens of both the 2 and 4 legged kind. Less strays on the street means less waste on sidewalks and in parks where kids play, less garbage scattered all over the place, less disease and violent death due to cars or poison. We must educate pet lovers and encourage them to make the transition from “Feeders” to “Responsible owners.” We must help vets increase their business by learning and then offering these low-cost techniques that will attract more customers who will then become word of mouth testimonials. In other words, instead of using a traditional shelter approach to cure the plague of homeless pets in impoverished countries, it is better to invest time and money into educating communities so they may become a better environment for all.
And what about the sad cases, the injured ones, the starving ones, the ones that can’t make it on their own? Won’t they be left behind by this No Kill, No Shelter approach? Not if we stay involved. We should never be afraid to stop and lend a hand, offer comfort, involve the neighbors, provide medical care. The fact that the long term view calls for a comprehensive approach that does not foresee the building of holding facilities for strays, doesn’t mean that we should ignore pain and misery when we see it, especially if we are in the position to offer help and to make a difference for an animal who needs help right now.
And why not build holding facilities, such as the shelters and sanctuaries of which we are so fond in more developed nations? Well, for starters they don’t seem to solve the problem, do they? Then there’s the monetary issue. Out here, shelters are often underfunded and overcrowded, condemning an animal that was free to a life of misery in a facility that can be simply horrific. Naturally, there are exceptions and I have had the privilege to visit a few well run shelters. Still, they struggle to stay open and are at the limit refusing intake on a daily basis. Lastly, we are better off skipping the shelter phase altogether and using the funds for community outreach work and education. If we do not help the community we will not help its animals. Having a detention type facility on the outskirts of town will only compound the problem as it will quickly become maxed out space wise, becoming a hoarding place in which the standards of care are constantly lowered to make ends meet. The future of companion animals in third world countries is dependent on the future of the communities they live in. That is where we need to make the ultimate difference.
Why? I am often asked this question both in the US and Europe. Why should we donate resources to helping animals in other countries when we have our own to worry about? I believe that we should help because it is the right thing to do and because we can. With less than what the average American spends on take out coffee in a week, we can spay/neuter an animal, reach out to a community and start promoting change. A few bucks still go a long way out here… As we, the human race, move forward in our global quest for a better economy, a better environment and a better life for all, it is only natural that we do not leave our best friends behind. No matter where they live, across town or across the border, if we can help, we have a moral obligation to do so.
And the only realistic way to make a difference is to invest in low-cost mass spay and neuter. If not, we will always be trying to catch up, rescuing one stray after the other in a vicious circle of collection and adoption where the rejects end up hoarded in substandard facilities with no end of the problem in sight. I hope you will join us in what I sincerely believe is the ultimate humane approach to solving the problem of dog and cat overpopulation not only in the developing world, but in the entire planet as well.