Tails of Woe : While Packs of Dogs Prowl the Streets, Short-Staffed Department Limps Along

Packs of feral dogs terrorize residents in South-Central Los Angeles and Pacoima but overworked animal control officers can only respond after a complaint is made or a person is attacked.

Budget cuts have ended city-sponsored spay and neutering clinics. Onetime clinic buildings have been converted to office space.

Meanwhile, one lone veterinarian oversees patching up the 74,000 sick, injured and neglected dogs, cats and other animals abandoned each year to the streets of Los Angeles-- 50,000 of which will end up euthanized.

Welcome to the beleaguered Animal Regulation Department, the final refuge for the city’s throw-away animals and also the public’s last line of the defense against dangerous wildlife.

In the last five years, while the city’s general budget increased 3%, Animal Regulation has lost 16% of its budget and 29% of its field personnel. It is the only public safety division--which includes police, fire and building and safety--to suffer five straight years of budget cuts.

“It’s one city department that is really in the most serious, tight financial straits,” said City Councilwoman Laura Chick, who heads the council’s Public Safety Committee, the panel that oversees the department.

“I’d like to see it have more resources but I can’t raise it much higher because what we have is going to the more immediate human needs,” Chick said.

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Department officials and council members say the department is simply a victim of tough financial times. The city is looking at a $200-million budget deficit next year and is nonetheless trying to meet public demand for more police and fire services.

What makes it harder is Animal Regulation’s lack of political influence.

Steve Afriat, a member of the Animal Regulation Commission, said the department has made some inroads to increasing its budget but that given the city’s lean times it is hard for his board to demand more.

“There just is no money,” he said. “They are making trade-offs.”

Because of that, the number of animals impounded at city shelters since 1990 has dropped by 16%; there are fewer animal control officers to impound strays, and more spay and neuter efforts by private nonprofit groups, officials say.

But in the same period, the percentage of animals put to death has increased by about 4%, they say. Last year, that amounted to nearly 50,000 animals.

“I can’t even go into the cat room because I know they do not have a chance,” said Gini Barrett, president of the Animal Regulation Commission.

Shelter hours have been cut from six days a week to five and medical technicians no longer staff the shelters at night.

To pull the department out of its budget tailspin, department officials are considering a slew of revenue-generating programs, from a plan to license cats to contracting with private veterinarians and nonprofit groups to run spay and neuter clinics from the six city shelters.

There’s even a plan to charge pet owners $10 to insert microchips under the skin of pets as part of a new ID program. If a pet with a microchip turns up at a city shelter, the pet’s owner can be identified simply by waving an electric scanner over the animal.

Even the City Council is pulling out the stops for innovative ways to raise money.

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The council will soon vote on providing free curbside pickup of horse manure for residents who pay the $14 annual horse registration fee. City officials believe thousands of horses in the city are not registered.

It is also expected to decide whether to allow potbellied pigs as pets in residential areas and charge a $160 fee to register the small swine.

Last month, the council voted to raise from $20 to $30 the license fee for dogs not spayed or neutered. And there is the suggestion that the city insert letters in every utility bill, requesting donations to renovate the shelters.

Animal regulation officials hope these can generate up to $1.2 million annually. But many of those plans are months, even years, away from fruition. In the meantime, animal technicians and others in the shelters say they must simply make do.

“We can’t do the extras. We can just do the maintenance,” said Dena Mangiamele, the department’s lone veterinarian.

Animal regulation officials and animal rescue volunteers complain that personnel shortages mean shelter workers have almost no time to help visitors adopt a pet and thus can’t work to reduce the number of animals who have to be put to death.

“There are not enough people to do the job,” said Teri Austin, president of the Amanda Foundation, the largest animal rescue group in the city. “It’s evident. Walk into the pound and try to get some help.”

Austin also complains that when kennels get crowded, the spread of infection and diseases increases. And when dogs and cats become sick they are less likely to be adopted, creating a vicious circle that leads to more euthanasia, she said.

“The majority of animals we take in from the pound have some illness because of overcrowding,” Austin said.

This is most evident in the South-Central shelter, an aging building, part of which was condemned because of earthquake damage. The medical treatment room is a converted kitchen with chipped yellow paint and no hot water. Construction on a new shelter is expected to being next year.

On a recent day, one kennel worker and an animal health technician were alone caring for 166 dogs and 31 cats, many of whom had illnesses or injuries. Many more had to be put to death.

Bill Carmignani, tbe health technician, pointed out a black Labrador with sad brown eyes and a runny nose. The dog had been brought in as a stray a week earlier with no signs of illness. But the dog caught an infection in the crowded kennel and had not been adopted during the standard 10 days that the department waits before putting an animal down.

“I have to euthanize this one,” he said, as the dog looked up at him. “I have no choice.”

The department’s work must be prioritized because of scant resources; spay and neuter programs and barking dog complaints drop to the bottom of the priority list or are ignored.

Days of operation at the shelters have had to be cut from six days a week to five, although efforts are underway to increase the hours again.

The department has also stopped staffing shelters with animal health technicians at night. A resident who brings an injured animal to a shelter after hours is instead referred to a local veterinarian, who charges the city for the care. Last year, that cost the city $27,500.

And staff shortages have forced animal control officers to all but abandon routine patrol to pick up stray animals. Officers now respond only to complaint calls.

Many such calls come from South Central and Pacoima, where stray dogs, often emaciated and sick, have formed roaming bands that attack and terrorize whole neighborhoods. Animal control officers have impounded about 200 such dogs but the problem continues.

“We have scheduled staff together to form special enforcement units to see if we can clear out the packs of dogs, but that means taking away service from other areas,” said Gary Olsen, general manager of the Animal Regulation Department.

In last year’s budget, Mayor Richard Riordan provided enough funds to hire 10 new animal control officers. But next year’s proposed budget is expected to call for another 6% cut in the department budget.

Noelia Rodriguez, Riordan’s spokeswoman, said the mayor’s top priority is boosting the police department but she added that Riordan hopes administrative cost-cutting and the revenue-generating ideas will improve conditions for the animals.

In the San Fernando Valley, an increase in coyote sightings and attacks on small pets prompted the Animal Regulation Commission last year to begin a limited trapping program and a public education program. Although educational brochures on how to “coexist with coyotes” have been printed, there is no money for outreach programs or distribution of the pamphlets.

“It’s hard to feel that the program has been effective,” said Chick, who represents parts of the West Valley where many of the coyote attacks and sightings have occurred.

Mangiamele understands such concerns, but with less money, she and the rest of the city’s animal care workers are simply “trying to keep our heads above water.”

She credits volunteer workers for taking up some of the slack but adds that there is still no relief in sight. “We have tremendous responsibility,” she said. “But it never ends.”

Thin and athletic, Mangiamele, 34, joined the department in April to become one of three staff veterinarians. One veterinarian died and another retired, leaving Mangiamele solely in charge. A hiring freeze and snags in the civil service hiring process have kept the city from replacing the other two.

On many days, Mangiamele said she doesn’t get home until 10 p.m.

Olsen describes Mangiamele as a “dynamo” but commission president Barrett worries about her burning out.

“It’s impossible to think we can keep her for an indeterminate amount of time under these conditions,” Barrett said.

At the West Valley shelter in Chatsworth recently, Mangiamele tried to comfort a mop-headed brown terrier who had been hit by a car and suffered a fractured jaw and a broken hind leg. Because it could not chew, the dog was fed a slurry of water and dog food.

The dog whimpered and cried as Mangiamele reached into the cage to pet it. “OK, sweetie. Hang on,” she said.

The department does not have the X-ray equipment to evaluate the dog’s injuries, Mangiamele said. In most cases, she said, the dog would be put to death immediately. But in this case, a local veterinarian had agreed to see the dog and attempt to set the broken jaw in hopes that it will mend.

“There are still a lot of success stories and that gives you a boost to go into the next day,” Mangiamele said.