Petfinder Blog

The Obama family is making the transition to First Family, and we all know what's next: getting that new First Dog.

We're so happy for daughters Malia, 10, and Sasha, 7, and so pleased that the Obamas are going about their search for a new pet in a responsible way: They plan to reach out to shelters and wait patiently for the right pooch to become available for adoption.

The family is concerned about all the right things: finding a pet that will match their lifestyle and choosing a dog appropriate for Malia's allergies (how great that the Obamas believe a kid with allergies can know the joy of having a pooch -- they must have a good pet-loving pediatrician!).

I just want to shout out a special thanks to the First Family for providing us with such a great example of responsible pet selection. If folks follow their lead, I believe far fewer pets will end up in shelters.

Pets as gifts. This used to be one of the big shelter and rescue no-nos. Even the mere suspicion that someone was "shopping" for a gift pet was enough to send a shamed would-be adopter back out the door.

Some shelters used to go so far as to shut down adoption programs during the holidays. The rationale was that a pet not adequately prepared for was a pet unlikely to stay in the home fur-ever.

Now, as the animal welfare industry matures, more emphasis is given to studies and statistics -- and boy have we all been surprised. We've learned that in some cases, people may in fact keep pets they got as surprise gifts the longest.

It turns out that cats, especially, may benefit from less planning and fewer expectations. (There is much to be said about that another day.)

So "pets as gifts" has come into its own. As an exercise, I, lover of all animals, founder of Petfinder, the consummate pet advocate, close my eyes and imagine the quintessential holiday experience -- and what do I see? I see bright packages piled under a sparkling tree and overflowing stockings, and smell hot cocoa. But that isn't all. I'm surprised to find that my Technicolor Christmas includes gift pets. Not just any gift pets, but a fuzzy kitten and a Labrador (can substitute Golden) Retriever puppy.

Wait just a minute here! How did the purebred puppy and fuzzball kitten sneak into my perfect Christmas morning vision? What kind of a terrible animal welfar-ian am I? The red street dog -- the mutt of mutts -- tops my preferred pet list, and a PUPPY? Please! Everyone knows I have a thing for senior pets. Notwithstanding the comical Far Side-esque images that come to mind when I picture my animal-welfare-endorsed, decrepit red senior under the tree, I think if we take a serious second look at pets as gifts, we'll find some inspiring truths.

During my life I've had many cats. All but one were normal and well-adjusted. But the first was not. It was this one weird cat that prompted my lifelong interest in senior pets. Here is our story.

When I was in college I saw an ad in the paper for a free cat. She was a 16-year-old Calico named Callie. I thought we were a good match. I could help a cat in need and get her love in return. And, because of her age, I figured she'd pass away before I left for graduate school. Perfect timing for both of us.

Her owner had died, and she was the one pet his family wouldn't take in. I might have inquired why they didn't want her with an open mind and understanding heart, but instead, I was simply aghast (just a wee bit judgmental). After all, I was 20 and issues of animal welfare were pretty black and white.

I'm far too stubborn to be a hypocrite, so over the next months, my noisy criticism of her previous family strengthened my resolve to make this strange cat love me. For four months she lived in the kitchen cabinet (actually in my lazy Susan) only to come out to relieve herself on the carpet. Wall-to-wall became bare wood.

In Month 6, she moved into a new space, under my bed. Eventually, she began to sneak out until her days were spent with me instead of the dust bunnies.

In 2005 I visited Denver. It happened to be the week the Pit Bull ban's grandfather period ended. In other words, Pit Bulls were illegal to own and as of that week, any Pit Bull in the city was a target for seizure and euthanasia.

As I stood in the shelter that morning, slackjawed and humbled, rows upon rows of Pit Bulls looked back at me. We had the same expression on our faces: "This is all wrong. There has been a terrible mistake."

I thought, "These are owned animals; loving family members." I imagined them feeling, "I have a home; I love my family."

These Pit Bulls had been seized from their homes, without provocation on their part, as part of a city-wide cleansing. Other than being, ostensibly, Pit Bulls, most of the seized dogs had done nothing wrong other than living within the city limits of a town with a breed ban.

Breed bans are troublesome for many reasons.

• They detract from the very real issues of dangerous dogs and irresponsible owners.
• They are applied haphazardly, based on looks alone.
• They criminalize, for no good reason, an entire segment of the population -- those folks who have adopted Pit Bulls and, in many cases, Pit mixes.
• They lend an air of credibility to myths about Pit Bulls. (Pit Bull jaws CANNOT "lock"!)

And, on a more philosophical level, Pit Bull bans smack of dangerous thinking.