Las Vegas animal control officers honored

The house on Bruce Street near Mesquite Avenue still had remnants of a family's move on the front porch, boxes and abandoned furniture and other stuff the former occupants left behind.

But they left more than just inanimate belongings. Scurrying in the shade were two small dogs, a Chihuahua and some kind of Yorkie, which is why Las Vegas animal control officer Krista Kurvers was dispatched to the address.

"Hi, dudes!" she called out, striding from her truck to the porch. "What are you guys doing?"

They were hiding, mostly, at least at first. And maybe also waiting for their owners to come back for them. The dogs didn't have to stay. The back gate had been left open, and there was a hole in the fence big enough for them to dart through.

But they had been left water and a little food, and the porch was shaded. So Kurvers decided to freshen their water, close off the escape hatches and leave them overnight, along with a notice that animal control had been by.

"They'll be given a day," she said. If nothing changed, the dogs would be impounded and put up for adoption. That wasn't necessary in this case, because when an officer went back to check, the dogs had been taken away.

Officially, such abandoned-pet calls have not gone up as the economy has worsened and foreclosures and abandoned properties increase.

"I have not seen anything that would raise a red flag to me that there is a direct correlation," said Karen Coyne, director of the Las Vegas Department of Detention and Enforcement, which includes animal control.

The economy has had an effect on the small department, which was recently recognized as an outstanding agency by the National Animal Control Association. Two recent retirees are not being replaced, meaning the department has only 12 officers and two supervisors to cover the entire city of Las Vegas and the 35,000 calls for service received each year.

"That's a very small group of people to do the work they do," Coyne said. "These guys are running."

While abandoned animal calls haven't spiked, that doesn't mean people aren't leaving animals behind, Kurvers said. The pet might show up as a loose stray or a shelter drop-off, and in some cases people are taking pets to a veterinarian or groomer and never picking them up.

As animal control officials tell it, a lot of the issues they deal with stem from people not understanding exactly what caring for a pet entails.

All pets over 4 months old in the city of Las Vegas must be registered, which requires proof of rabies vaccination. Spaying and neutering is encouraged, and soon could be required, as the city is working on an ordinance to that effect. And pets must be kept in good condition, with food, water, shelter and the ability to move about without roaming willy-nilly.

It was that concern that took Kurvers to a house near Lake Mead Boulevard and D Street. A pit bull was tied to a fence on a short leash, and while the dog had water, it also was trapped in the noonday summer sun.

The dog's owner was friendly, as was the dog, and the owner agreed to let the dog use the shade of two trees out front. He also was warned to license his dog.

The trick is to do all that without becoming confrontational. Situations with people's pets are often emotionally charged, Coyne said. An animal control officer is in law enforcement, but he or she is also a diplomat, an animal advocate and, sometimes, an investigator.

That's much more than being a "dog catcher."

"We've come so far beyond that," Coyne said. "It's highly requested and expected by the public."

Animal control officers check out abuse and cruelty reports, handle rabies concerns, deal with wild animals and exotic (and sometimes illegal) pets -- even corral the occasional cow.

That's one of administrative officer George Dorsey's favorite stories. For the holidays, a family brought two cows to their subdivision with the intention of slaughtering them for a family celebration. One of the cows got free and started running around the neighborhood, which, luckily, was gated.

Still, it took the combined efforts of several officers to get the cow corralled. Of course, it was never supposed to be in that part of town anyway -- only certain areas can have livestock.

"They had to get it out of the city," Dorsey said.

Not all stories tie up as neatly. Another time, a couple was walking down the street and came across a man walking his pit bull. The dog lunged at the woman; when her companion pushed her out of harm's way, the dog bit off his lips.

He needs reconstructive surgery. The dog and his owner disappeared.

"That's the stuff that happens," Dorsey said.

And then there are these grim numbers: The Lied Animal Shelter, the main public shelter for the valley, takes in about 50,000 animals a year. About half of them are euthanized, and officials think that number could be greatly reduced by getting more people to spay or neuter their pets.

"We have got to figure out a way to educate people about their responsibilities as pet owners," Dorsey said.

Some people don't need educating but still need a little help now and then.

Recently, Kurvers was cruising an area near Cheyenne Avenue and Jones Boulevard, looking for a black lab that had bitten someone earlier in the week.

What she found instead was a white American Eskimo mix with a fresh haircut wandering loose with no ID tag or radio chip.

The dog appeared to have wandered out of a nearby cul-de-sac and seemed elderly. It was an unusually slow day, so Kurvers knocked on a couple of doors and within a few minutes found the dog's owner, who hadn't yet realized his pooch had wandered off.

The dog, it turns out, was 14 years old, and Kurvers felt good about not taking it all the way to impound. Instead of spending a night in a cage, the canine spent about 10 minutes in the air-conditioned back of her truck.

"Did I have to do that? No," Kurvers said. "But we're not busy. And that guy, forever, is going to be an animal control fan."

Contact reporter Alan Choate at achoate @reviewjournal.com or 702-229-6435.