Empty cages: Where have all of Anchorage's shelter pets gone?

Gilda, the calico kitten who pooped on my son's winter coat during the trip home from the animal shelter several years ago, has grown into an amazing cat. Mellow, tolerant and playful, she possesses the perfect temperament to live in our house full of rambunctious children.

I urged my kids to go with Mogley, a huge, motley-looking shaggy-haired adult cat I had fallen in love with at first sight as we scanned through the cages of adoptable felines at Anchorage's animal shelter. But poor Mogley was no match for what the children had spotted at the far end of the cat-packed room: a spritely orange, black and white kitten far less imposing than Mogley, whose scowling, scrunchy face scared them.

Times at Anchorage's Animal Care and Control Center have changed a lot since that kitty adoption day, and since my move to Alaska in 1999. Back then, the center's adoption bays always seemed full with barking dogs and mewing cats waiting for new homes.

More recently when I've stopped in, the dog cages have been empty and there have been very few cats. But there have been mice, ferrets, turtles, iguanas, guinea pigs, birds and -- just last month -- a duck.

I'd wondered if the center, in some cost-saving measure or mandate, had started euthanizing more animals to save on the cost of housing them for adoption. It's a Draconian thought, but that's what we humans (and especially journalists) do: observe, question, seek answers.

Let's cut right to the chase -- the answer is "no." Animals are not being euthanized in greater numbers than before.

"Actually, it's quite the opposite," said Laura Atwood, public relations coordinator for Anchorage Animal Care and Control, who said she gets the question a lot.

Records maintained by the facility show it euthanized 3,046 animals in 2005. More recently, euthanasia numbers at the shelter went from 1,497 in 2013 to 838 in 2014 -- a drop of 44 percent. In 2015, 614 animals were euthanized, down 26 percent from the year before.

Looked at another way, and perhaps more telling, is to consider the percentage of pets euthanized each year out of all the animals brought in to the shelter. In 2005, it was 34 percent. In 2015, 15 percent.

So, if the animals aren't being put down, where are all the cats and dogs? Turns out, it's part of an overall downward trend in the number of adoptable pets, driven by a variety of factors.

In 2005, the shelter took in 9,302 animals. In 2015, it took in 4,486.

"The thought is that spay and neutering is working. There is no doubt that we had many more litters of puppies come in eight or nine years ago. Last year, we had maybe two or three litters," said Dr. Myra Wilson, the facility's long-time veterinarian and center director.

Other forces are at work, too; for example, winter tends to be slower than summer, when the shelter generally takes in more animals. But there's more.

"We know that social media is probably being used to rehome animals," and "we have seen an increase in the number of private rescue groups," Wilson said. Also, through microchipping, lost animals have better chances of being reunited with their owners and therefore never come up for adoption.

It used to be only about a third of lost animals would make it back to their owners. But now, according to data provided by the shelter, those numbers are way up. In 2015, 54 percent of animals went back to their owners. Dogs always fare better than cats, but the numbers for reunions for each are still on the rise. In 2015, 73 percent of dogs and 14 percent of cats made it back to their owners.

The day Wilson and I spoke, three dogs, five cats, a stray ferret named "Winnie," two rabbits and two surrendered white mice, "Nestle" and "Miss Swiss," were up for adoption. A dove available earlier in the day had found a new home by the time we sat down to talk. Just three dogs occupied the adoptable dogs room, among rows of empty kennels.

The center has always had its share of what Wilson calls "others" -- pets that aren't a cat or a dog and aren't wild, and therefore have a proper, if unexpected, place at the shelter.

Snakes. Lizard geckos. Bearded dragons. Fish. Spiders (a tarantula). Gerbils. Chinchillas. Pot-bellied pigs. Chickens. Once, a horse. And last week, a duck named "Donny."

"What's really funny is when you're walking through and you hear dogs barking and a rooster crowing," Atwood said.

All of these "other" pets and their litters go into the overall numbers the center provides for intakes, reunions, adoptions and euthanasia. Animals that are too sick or too dangerous are euthanized. Otherwise, the days of using the procedure to make space for new intakes are long gone, Wilson said.

"We have far less animals, but we are doing more for them," Wilson said. Doing more includes things like providing the animals with raised beds, chew toys and behavior assessments, and adding music and the sounds of chirping birds to the cattery.

Because the shelter is not operating at maximum capacity, it is now able to care for and keep animals up for adoption longer, including senior citizens and animals that may have special medical or behavioral needs.

Pets that otherwise might be considered long shots for adoption get extended stays, in hopes the right family will come along. "We now have the space to put out these animals and give them another chance," Atwood said. It paid off recently for Cheevers, a 12-year-old blind and mostly deaf Schnauzer mix lucky enough to find a forever home.

Shelter operations are only a portion of Anchorage Animal Care and Control's annual costs, which until 2016 have held steady at just under $2 million with an average increase of $30,000 per year since 2012. This year, the budget is set at $2,108,450, an increase of $129,615 over last year to pay for an additional enforcement officer.

While the number of pets coming into the shelter side may be down, calls for enforcement and other services are rising -- not surprising for a growing city, Wilson said. Responding to loose dogs, dogfights, dog bites, which average 600 per year, and animal welfare checks are a large part of the overall budget, Wilson said.

Doyon Universal Services, the company hired by the city to run the care center's operations and which Wilson describes as very supportive, doesn't ask her to make life-and-death decisions based on finances, she said.

"If you go over, you go over. And if you stay under, you stay under," she said.

I'm glad I asked.

Jill Burke is a longtime Alaska journalist writing from the center of a busy family life. Her father swore by "Burke's Law No. 1 -- never take no for an answer." Meaning, don't give up in the face of adversity. The lesson stuck. Share your ideas with her at jill@alaskadispatch.com, on Facebook or on Twitter.

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