The pet industry appears to be more or less disengaged from the issue of animal hoarding, despite occasional public objections to limits on animal breeding. (The Cat Fanciers Association wants cat fanciers free to make all the kittens they need, and the group has hissed at the plea by PETA for prospective cat owners to adopt exclusively from the SPCA.)
Michael Maddox, counsel for the Pet Industry Joint Advisory Council, says animal hoarding has little to do with the pet industry, since few hoarders get their collections in pet stores. But does the industry feel compelled to step in?
"We would want to play a role in resolving the overall issue," Maddox said, though he knew of no official policy on the horizon.
The largely uncharted world of animal hoarding is crossed right and left with shades of gray. Was Fund for Animals founder Cleveland Amory an animal hoarder? His Black Beauty Ranch boasted a wonderful collection of rescued creatures, and surely the occasional burro developed an infection or broke a leg there. Is it simply better funding that allowed Amory's project to distinguish itself from the thousands of squalid backyard sanctuaries that repulse us each year?
Is it reasonable to apply the collateral damage model to the realm of animal munificence? In war, generals aren't hauled off to court if some of their troops get wounded; it's considered a consequence of battle's noble gesture. Warped though it might be, it's a noble impulse that guides many of these hoarders. Can it be argued that every malnourished kitten is simply a little friendly fire in the cat lady's larger battle against homeless cats?
Not if you've seen a hoarder's house, Patronek argues.
"You can't imagine what these places are like," he says. "Eyeballs everywhere, ammonia so thick you need a mask to breath ... it doesn't resonate that these people are just trying to help and it just 'got out of hand.'"
Walnut Creek, Calif., resident Bob Teachout knows about the gray areas of large-scale devotion to animals. Just recently, the city's planning commission allowed him to keep his 400 thoroughbred homing pigeons, despite complaints from neighbors -- not of abuse, but of strong smells, flies, dust, rats and mice. The birds were supposedly lowering property values, Teachout says.
"With racing pigeons, they're athletes," he explains, laughing off the idea of mistreating his flock. "You have to have them in top physical and mental health. They have to want to race home."
Indeed, Teachout's interest in the pigeons is more hobby than addiction -- as president of the Martinez Racing Pigeon Club, he helps arrange races as long as 560 miles -- and his passion for the birds is impressive, not spooky.
"I got my first pigeons 40 years ago, when I was 15," he recalls. "It turned my life around. Animals are one of the best ways to teach kids about life, death and responsibility."
As for hoarders, Teachout has no patience.
"I think most of them believe they are loving those animals ... but animal cruelty is just as bad as cruelty to children."
In the pigeon breeding and racing circles, a kind of self-policing mechanism exists, where racers keep an eye on other racers to make sure the birds are treated well. It's so effective, he says, that in nearby Concord, the city contacts the pigeon club in the event of a complaint. The club then helps step in to resolve the problem.
At AnimalPeople.com, a personals service for animal lovers, the motto reads: "Pets bring people closer." Well, yes and no. The singles involved with AnimalPeople.com seem sane enough (even endearing, posing with their beagles and their tabbies), and in general animal lovers seem to be the good ones among us, the friendly types who don't honk in traffic. But at certain quantities and under certain circumstances, pets do anything but bring people closer. Hoarding behavior, like other compulsions, facilitates a suspension of social interaction, which often then leads to the acquisition of even more animals. As a society we may have etched out rough boundaries for acceptable animal treatment, but those who've dropped out remain free to draw their own lines.
Just Tuesday, police in Marshall, N.C., charged a couple with two counts of misdemeanor cruelty after finding more than 100 potbellied pigs, about 20 dogs, two dozen cats and several chickens and ducks in their house, according to the Associated Press. The floor of the home was "matted with mud and animal droppings."
Hugh and Karen Koontz say their home started as a refuge -- Karen was running something called the Peaceable Kingdom Animal Sanctuary, but got sick and could no longer care for the creatures.
"Things just get away from you," her husband said.
About the writer
Chris Colin is the associate editor of the Life and People sections at Salon.
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