Daily Archives: February 7, 2022

In something that feels straight out of a nightmare, the world once had to deal with a cult that proposed every man, woman and child on Earth should kill themselves.

The Church of Euthanasia, which still has a running website, was founded in 1992 by software developer and DJ Chris Korda.

Korda said the idea for the church laid itself out to her in a dream, where she was confronted [by] an alien intelligence known as The Being who speaks for the inhabitants of Earth in other dimensions".

The Being warned that our planet's ecosystem is failing and that our leaders deny this," she explained.

"The Being asked why our leaders lie to us, and why so many of us believe these lies.

The twisted cult of the 1990s would often march carrying grotesque props including a stick with a bloody baby doll and American flag attached, a pro-abortion symbol.

They'd also swing around a huge abortion pill while chanting "Save the planet. Kill yourself."

The church believed that Earth was at a huge risk of overpopulating, and Korda was inspired by the news of irreversible climate change.

As the cult began to gain traction, they organised increasingly high-profile and outlandish situations to get their twisted message out.

Motorists driving on the Massachusetts Turnpike on September 1993 were met with a huge billboard for the Museum of Science in Boston covered with their classic slogan Save the Planet - Kill Yourself.

Following on from this, members appeared on the notoriously wacky Jerry Springer Show and described the Churchs four pillars.

Those four pillars are suicide, abortion, cannibalism and sodomy.

Korda, who also had a career releasing techno music, was criticised by Springer for comments where she suggested a depressed teenager thinking about suicide should be offered assistance.

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And the cult didnt just lead to on-screen entertainment. In a serious turn of events in 2003, a woman in Missouri was found dead lying next to a printout from the Church of Euthanasia site.

The lead prosecutor for the city of St. Louis at the time, Jennifer Joyce, publicly threatened the church with manslaughter charges which led to the online instructions being removed.

For emotional support, you can call the Samaritans 24-hour helpline on 116 123, email jo@samaritans.org, visit a Samaritans branch in person or go to the Samaritans website.

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Twisted cult campaigned for all humanity to kill itself and provided instructions online - Daily Star

The adoption event marks the 20th anniversary of LifeLine and the nonprofits work to end euthanasia of pets. LifeLine began managing Fulton and DeKalb County animals services in 2013.

These are extraordinarily difficult times, said LifeLine CEO and Founder Rebecca Guinn said in the statement. We have always been committed to saving every healthy and treatable animal, and today the challenge is even greater. Only with the help of our community will we be able to keep Atlanta a lifesaving city.

In addition to adoptions, LifeLine is asking the public to consider fostering dogs housed at the shelters and to take an active part in helping stray dogs in neighborhoods reunite with owners. More information is available at LifeLineAnimal.org/foster.

Put something on Nextdoor (social media site), Friedman said. Put up flyers, check with neighbors. Most pets are usually found a mile from their home.

Visit LifeLineAnimal.org/adopt for more information on adoptions and to view available animals.

Fulton and DeKalb County animal shelters remain over capacity with twice the number of dogs. Free pet adoptions will take place Friday through Monday to help ease overcrowding.

Credit: Courtesy Lifeline Animal Project

Credit: Courtesy Lifeline Animal Project

Fulton and DeKalb County animal shelters remain over capacity with twice the number of dogs. Free pet adoptions will take place Friday through Monday to help ease overcrowding.

Credit: Courtesy Lifeline Animal Project

Credit: Courtesy Lifeline Animal Project

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Free pet adoptions offered at overcrowded shelters - The Atlanta Journal Constitution

On Christmas Eve three years ago, I sat on my front lawn with my dog Mathilda and watched a Southwestern sunset paint the sky pink and gold. It was the last sunset Mathilda and I would share, the last time wed sit, pressed together, with her fur warming the skin of my bare leg as the days light faded.

A veterinarian from Lap of Love, an in-home euthanasia service for sick animals, would arrive at our door later that evening. I would say goodbye to my friend and companion of the past 10 years in a home barren of seasonal trappings. At the time, I didnt know if I would survive her passing, or if the deep impulse for self-destruction that her companionship had staved off would again rear its unwelcome head.

As a veterinarian myself, Ive guided many people through the painful process of losing a pet by letting them know that granting our beloved companions a pain-free death is a valuable act of love and care. Ive peacefully ended animals lives, spending countless hours in exam rooms, on the floors of treatment rooms, or kneeling on blankets next to ailing dogs as I offered comfort to grieving family members. Ive passed tissues and searched for just the right words that fit the pet and situation.

Often, the words that came to mind were things like: You gave Cooper a good life. Or, I can see you loved her very much. Or, This was the right decision. And most of the time, it was. One of the things I do as a veterinarian is help people to understand when its time to let go before the bad days outnumber the good ones and suffering sets in. I consider it one of my most important duties, both to the animals and to the family members who love them. But when it came to Mathilda, I couldnt make the compassionate decision to let her go when she was ready, despite my years of training and experience.

Id said goodbye to my own companion animals in the past, and Id loved them all, but Mathilda was special. She was a 100-pound Bernese Mountain Dog with a gregarious personality and a love of counter-surfing, and she had been my companion and support through the most difficult time of my life.

I adopted her from a rescue in the Midwest when she was 10 months old. Id intended to drive out and pick her up, but the rescue sent her to me c.o.d. in the cargo of a plane. When the plane was rerouted and delayed, and no one at the airline could tell me where she was, it was the closest Id ever come in my life to being forcibly ejected from an airport lobby. To say I was upset and worried would be an understatement.

When she finally arrived, eight hours later than planned, I paid the $250 required to release her from cargo. She was traumatized and covered in excrement, and had been given no food or water for at least 18 hours. Something broke inside me when I first saw her, and I knew I would do anything for this dog. As it turns out, the feeling was mutual.

Courtesy of Ingrid Taylor

Several years before our last evening together, Mathilda barreled through a locked bedroom door and prevented me from killing myself. I was suffering from the uncontrolled symptoms of a mental illness that had not yet been diagnosed, and a string of psychiatrists had switched me on and off various medications that failed to work or in any way relieve my depression. Yet there was nothing on that particular occasion that made me think, Today is the day. No inciting incident, no moment that I can identify as the proverbial last straw. In fact, though Id thought a lot about ending my life, planned it even, the decision to follow through on that day surprised me. It was made in a moment of epiphany when I realized that not only did I have nothing to strive for, but that there was a complete loss of hope that anything good would ever return to my life. I saw the days ahead as a long, blank corridor, with no exit or end in sight.

I gave Mathilda a big bowl of food, loaded it with her favorite treats, went to the bedroom and locked the door behind me. In that moment, I believed the pain would finally subside.

Just when I was about to end my life, the bedroom door flew open with a crash. I froze. I heard the tap-tap of Mathildas toenails on the tile and suddenly she was in front of me, her face nearly level with mine from where I sat on the bed. Normally a very vocal dog, this time she was silent. She just looked at me with so much love and trust. For a second, I nearly continued anyway, even with the dog Id sworn to protect and care for all her life sitting right in front of me. But I couldnt do it. I couldnt leave her.

Mathilda saved my life that day, and she continued to save my life during the difficult months and years that followed after I was eventually diagnosed with major depressive disorder and post-traumatic stress disorder. Mathilda went everywhere with me. During the week, she came with me to the clinic and hung out in my office while I saw appointments. Admittedly, she was not loved by all once, a veterinary technician left half a pizza in the office, intending to eat it later, only to come back to find the box on the floor in front of a very satisfied Mathilda.

That wasnt the only incident. Mathildas weakness was food, and anything was fair game. While visiting my neighbor, during an unsupervised moment, she stole some eggs off the kitchen counter and managed to carefully break them and eat the yolks while leaving the shells in a neat pile on the carpet. Fortunately, the neighbor was amused and somewhat in awe of her skills. On the weekends, Mathilda and I took long hikes where Id let her run off leash, confident shed always return to me.

Even though I knew she was getting older, I never thought about what would happen when she inevitably reached the end of her life. When Mathilda became ill with an aggressive bone cancer that spread rapidly to her lungs, her quality of life quickly declined. I refused to see it. I begged her to keep going for me. I cooked her favorite meals, increased her pain medications and took her to chemotherapy sessions that she hated. I had visions of her impending death where I imagined that I would become catatonic and drop into a state of neither life nor death. I longed for oblivion, and images of self-harm crept into my thoughts. While my neighbors were putting up Christmas trees and decorating their homes with cheerful lights, I lay on the floor with Mathilda, trying not to notice the effort it took her to breathe.

Courtesy of Ingrid Taylor

Finally, my husband, Danny, asked me to let him schedule a euthanasia appointment for Mathilda. Look at her, he said. Shes suffering. Mathilda had moved to lie at his feet, and she gazed up at him with a look of desperation. Shes ready, Danny said. Please let her go. As if blinders were lifted, I finally saw how little vitality Mathilda had left, after giving so much to me her entire life. She was exhausted, and if I truly loved her, I would say goodbye to her.

Danny called Lap of Love, and Mathilda peacefully took her last breath in our home as I held her. Afterward, I felt as if my chest had been hollowed out, leaving an emptiness that would never be filled. I swallowed a sleeping pill that night, afraid of the ever-present temptation to take more than I needed. We spent Christmas Day in silence, somberly opening presents shipped to us from family members.

There is tremendous pressure to express joy and gratitude during the holidays, but for many like me, this is a season darkened by grief and loss. Losing a pet at this time of year is particularly hard, as the pressures of creating a perfect celebration, and dealing with family interactions, trips and other events, dont leave much time for grief. As a veterinarian, Im used to dealing with death and loss around the holiday season. I routinely dreaded the holidays when I worked at an emergency hospital, knowing that Id be putting more pets to sleep the closer it got to Christmas.

In fact, veterinarians have observed this trend for years. In 2018, a co-founder of Lap of Love told The Boston Globe that euthanasia of companion animals increases by as much as 50% around the Christmas holidays. There are several reasons for this apparent uptick in pet loss. People may be traveling over the holidays and dont want to leave behind a sick animal who may pass away while theyre gone. Others may be waiting for kids to come home from college to say goodbye to their pets. Animals who are ill or exhibiting behavior changes, such as urinating in the house, may be difficult to deal with while navigating family visits and holiday responsibilities. Elderly animals may exhibit more pain and symptoms of arthritis as the weather gets colder, leading family members to make quality-of-life decisions. Financial constraints over the holidays may also factor into the decision to let go of an animal companion. Veterinarians are often there for families during these times and become witness to the cracks and stresses created by making these difficult decisions. It is not easy to decide to end a life, nor is it easy to take one, even in compassion.

Dealing with the deaths of pets on a daily basis is one reason for the high suicide rates among veterinarians twice that of people in the dental and medical professions and four times the rates of the general population. Im among the 9% of veterinarians who, according to one survey, have attempted suicide. Over the years, Ive lost several colleagues and friends to suicide including my friend Christine, who graduated from veterinary school a year ahead of me and with whom Id shared shifts at a local animal hospital. Each one of these tragic losses reminds me of the tenuousness of life, and how I had nearly lost my own. In the months after Mathildas death, I worried I would join these numbers.

Courtesy of Ingrid Taylor

Eventually my grief receded to a dull ache rather than a raw, seeping wound, and I realized that letting Mathilda go was an essential step in my own survival. Though I will always regret that I didnt make the decision to say goodbye sooner, Mathilda gifted me with a will to live that transcended her passing. She helped me understand just how fragile life is a lesson I needed after coming so close to throwing my own life away.

We hold on to love while we can, but sometimes letting someone go is the greatest expression of that love. Mathilda taught me to survive loss with greater resilience, and her passing gave me a new appreciation for the winter season not for the holiday celebrations and the shiny lights, but for an older, deeper meaning that harks back to the vegetative death and quietude that winter brings. Twice, Mathilda and I reached the threshold of mortality: once for me when it was not yet my time, and once for her when her passing was natural and right. Now, my winters are spent in stillness and commemoration, for the seasonal darkness that must precede the renewal and regrowth of spring.

Ingrid L. Taylor is a freelance writer, poet and veterinarian whose work has appeared most recently in the Southwest Review, The Ocotillo Review, Sentient Media and elsewhere. You can catch up with her on Instagram at @tildybear and find out more about her work at ingridltaylor.com.

If you or someone you know needs help, call 1-800-273-8255 for the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline. You can also text HOME to 741-741 for free, 24-hour support from the Crisis Text Line. Outside of the U.S., please visit the International Association for Suicide Prevention for a database of resources.

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I'm A Vet Who Helps People Say Goodbye To Their Pets. When My Dog Was Dying, I Couldn't. - HuffPost

Attack on Titan has finally unleashed the long foreshadowed and highly anticipated Rumbling with the newest episode of the series! Ever since the anime came back earlier this year it has been setting the stage for the grand finale by dropping small teases about what Eren Yeager was cooking up for the future. Previous episodes of the season have teased that Eren has something terrible planned for the future by showcasing just how far he was willing to fall in order to achieve these new goals. But with the newest episode everything became clear as Eren fully unleashed The Rumbling.

Foreshadowed in small hints throughout the rest of the series as a whole, it was revealed that Eren was trying to gain control of the Founding Titan's power to unleash the Rumbling. While Zeke had been working with him under the idea that they would eliminate all of Eldia's future children, it's confirmed that Eren's real plan is much worse than that. By activating the Titans sleeping within the walls, Eren plans to destroy the entire world outside of the island of Paradis. It's complete annihilation. Check it out below as spotted by @_Dominating on Twitter:

Picking up from the previous episode that saw Eren and Zeke return from the past, Episode 80 of the series sees them return to the Paths. In this space Eren is chained up, and Zeke plans to keep him that way in order to follow through with the Eldian euthanasia plan. Then fans are treated to a sequence that reveals the true sources of the Titan's power, and through this connection Eren then is able to make a deeper tie with the founder herself, Ymir. He activates her rage as she seeks true freedom.

Instead of following along with Zeke's plan, Eren talks the founder into breaking free of her thousands of years long vow to serve the royal family. Having her completely sink into he rage, he then activates The Rumbling and soon it wakes up all of the Titans in the walls. But it's a massive shift as the Rumbling is not meant to just destroy the invading forces of Marley, but Eren seeks to use the power to destroy the rest of the world. Now it's a matter of seeing who survives from here.

What do you think? How did you feel finally seeing the Rumbling in action? Did it build up to all of the hype over Attack on Titan's previous seasons? Let us know all of your thoughts about it in the comments! You can even reach out to me directly about all things animated and other cool stuff @Valdezology on Twitter!

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Attack on Titan Finally Unleashes The Rumbling: Watch - ComicBook.com

Professor Kamisars greatest impact on the court came in 1966, in its decision in Miranda.

The year before, he had published a lengthy essay in which he compared the American legal system to a gatehouse and a mansion the gatehouse being the police interrogation room and the mansion being the courtroom.

The courtroom is a splendid place where defense attorneys bellow and strut and prosecuting attorneys are hemmed in at many turns, he wrote. But what happens before an accused reaches the safety and enjoys the comfort of this veritable mansion? Ah, theres the rub. Typically he must first pass through a much less pretentious edifice, a police station with bare back rooms and locked doors.

The courts offered extensive protections, rooted in the Fifth Amendment, covering the right against self-incrimination. But no such protections existed in the police station, where interrogators could coerce a suspect to confess.

No system of justice could last long, Professor Kamisar argued, if it relied on the coerced flow of information from the accused. The court agreed. In a decision written by Chief Justice Warren and citing Professor Kamisars work, it ruled in 1966 that criminal defendants had to be informed of their rights before being questioned, especially their rights to remain silent and to legal counsel.

That same year Time magazine wrote that at 37, Kamisar has already produced a torrent of speeches and endless writings that easily make him the most overpowering criminal-law scholar in the U.S. Others called him the father of Miranda.

With the Supreme Courts imprimatur, Professor Kamisar spent the rest of his career building his chosen field he co-wrote its leading casebook, Modern Criminal Procedure (Professor Kerr, Professor King and Professor Primus later became co-authors) and defending the Miranda ruling from conservative pushback.

Professor Kamisars concern for the vulnerable, and his worries about the reach of government power, motivated his other area of great interest: assisted suicide and euthanasia. If his position on the rights of the accused won him admirers among civil libertarians, many of those same people were flummoxed by his opposition to laws that would seem, on their face, to enshrine an equally important right, over ones own death.

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Yale Kamisar, Known as the Father of the Miranda Rule, Dies at 92 - The New York Times

The dusty white cargo plane stood out among the gleaming corporate jets, as did its passengers: 48 barking dogs, newly arrived at the private air terminal at Hanscom Field, outside of Boston.

They had left Mississippi that morning with their health certificates taped to their kennels. All week, the staff at Oktibbeha County Humane Society (OCHS), in Starkville, Miss., had been getting them ready, giving them their shots, testing their temperaments, and color-coding each crate for its destination: red for Second Chance Animal Services in North Brookfield, Mass.; gray for the Animal Rescue League of Boston; and blue for the MSPCA, an independent animal-welfare organization.

On the tarmac, representatives from each jostled around the animals like vacationers at baggage claim. Danielle Bowes, a staff member at Second Chance, checked her list. She was looking for two tiny puppies named Tiger and Presley; black and brown 4-month-olds Bandit, Josie, and Wells; an adult lab mix, Trent; and a dozen more, ranging from 8 lb. to 40 lb., from 8 weeks to 4 years old. When she found Bravo, a 1-year-old collie and American blue heeler mix, she cooed into his cage, Hi, Pretty, youre going to go quick! Back at Second Chance, the dogs will quarantine for 48 hours, per state law, before they go up for adoption. If past experience is any guideand transports like this arrive nearly every week all over the country, by plane, truck, and vanthey will be gone in a few days, becoming the newest of the estimated 90 million canines living with U.S. families.

There is not a dog shortage in Americanot yet, at least. But there are stark geographic differences in supply and demand. Massachusetts needs more dogs, and Mississippi has too many. The same is true of Delaware and Oklahoma, Minnesota and Louisiana, New York and Tennessee, and Washington and New Mexico, among other states. To compensate, sophisticated dogrelocation networks have sprung up over the past decade, transporting dogs and cats from states with too many to states with too few. Mostly, its a tactical problem: How do we connect those shelters that have too many animals and are at risk of euthanasia simply because they were born there, to those shelters where these animals are gonna fly off the shelves? says Matt Bershadker, CEO of the ASPCA, the New Yorkbased animal-welfare giant, which sponsored and organized the flight arriving at Hanscom. Over the past five years, the ASPCA has poured resources into its relocation program, which in March will celebrate its 200,000th animal moved. But it is far from alone.

These pipelines of adoptable animalsprimarily, but not exclusively, moving from south to northhave become a cultural phenomenon in their own right, and a key part of a broader transformation of companion-animal welfare. The ASPCAs program may be the biggest and most organized, but dogs (and, to a lesser extent, cats) move by all sorts of other means. There are ad hoc bands of volunteers, organizing on Facebook and Petfinder, who cover their back seats with towels and rendezvous at rest stops, passing animals along every couple hundred miles. In big cities and their suburbs, nonprofits have sprung up to partner with overcrowded Southern shelters, hire a driver and load up a van with a few dozen animals every month or more. During the COVID-19 pandemic, many of these groups became overwhelmed with demand in some states, leading to months-long waiting lists and stiff competition among adopters. That spurred a surprising fourth category: veritable smugglers, who saw an opportunity in loading up a horse trailer with the cutest strays and driving north (leaving the nonprofits with the sick and less desirable animals).

Wells, 4 months, Millie, 4 years, and Coralie, 1 year, wait to be moved from their travel kennels into quarantine at Second Chance Animal Services

Evan Angelastro for TIME

It is a good time to be an American dog. In the 1970s, as many as 20 million dogs and cats were euthanized each year. That number has declined precipitously. The ASPCA now estimates 390,000 dogs and 530,000 cats are euthanized each year, down from 2.6 million as recently as 2011. Thats still too manyespecially when a way to further reduce the number is at hand. Euthanasia was once seen as an inevitability: there were just too many animals. But a combination of factorscultural, medical, and politicalhas changed that. More people want mutts, rebranded rescues. Fewer animals are born each year, thanks to broader spay and neuter programs, often dictated by law, and improved surgical techniques. And more are being moved, which helps save those animals, but also opens up space and time to care for others left behind. For shelter staff, who suffer from a disproportionately high rate of mental-health problems, nothing matters more than keeping up with their animals needs. Rather than being beaten down by the incessant necessity of euthanizing the unwanted, they are buoyed by a steady flow of adoptions.

Money helps, of course. The geographic disparities that lead one place to have too many dogs and another too few are primarily fueled by a difference in resources. Shelters in heavily populated cities and suburbs benefit from well-funded population-control programs and large pools of potential adopters. Shelters in rural areas struggle with excess animals, and communities with broader economic burdens. Puppies flying private may seem excessivethe flight into Hanscom cost the ASPCA approximately $30,000but the kennels on the tarmac among the corporate jets are an indicator of the broader success of the animal-welfare movement, and the enthusiasm of its donors. The easy problems are nearly solved; the hard ones require a new approach. Animal relocation is not only about meeting demand for puppies, but also building the capacity to help all animals.

The ASPCA-sponsored flight exemplifies an organized effort to connect disparate communities in pursuit of a common goal. It is a living, breathingbarking, pantinggeographic arbitrage. But by treating these flying puppies as points of connection between communities, like the knots in a net, the issue of excess animals can be addressed. Its a recognition that some problems, even ones that bridge red states and blue states, can be solved together.

When Michele Anderson first volunteered at the Oktibbeha County Humane Society, its challenges could be measured with a simple formula. Like many shelters, it calculated its live-release rate: the number of animals that left alive, divided by the total number that came in through the door. In 2009, it hovered around 50%. I remember if we had a cat that sneezed, we didnt keep the cat, Anderson recalls. New animals filled the door of the shelter every day, and there was neither the space to house them nor the money to pay the staff to take care of them. But Anderson saw a way to change that.

Danielle Bowes, a care and adoption counselor at Second Chance, moves Zelda from the crate she flew in

Evan Angelastro for TIME

OCHS occupies a tidy brick house on the industrial edge of Starkville, the thriving home of Mississippi State University. Inside, every inch is devoted to animals and their care, with barking dogs and prowling cats behind every door and supplies stacked in every corner. Outside, a fenced-in green-grass backyard gives the dogs a place to play. But the social heart is the iron bench on the little porch out front, often busy with chatting veterinary students from the university and volunteers.

It was there that Anderson, who had joined the shelters board of directors, oversaw the arrival of a transformative visitor: the Rescue Waggin, a green van with a giant puppy decal on the side. It belonged to PetSmart Charities, the philanthropic arm of the pet-store chain. The first year it came to Oktibbeha, in 2009, it picked up 40 animals, a handful at a time, and transported them to places like Kansas City and Chicago. Over the next few years, the Rescue Waggin raised that to several hundred. But it really wasnt doing anything, Anderson says. It wasnt addressing the broader challenge in the community.

OCHS was far better resourced than many of its Mississippi neighbors. It had the social capital of the university to draw on, and a contract with the city of Starkville to take in strays. By many measures, Mississippi is the poorest state in the U.S., and in nearby communities animal control was more likely to be a fenced-in area alongside the town dump or behind the sheriffs department. OCHS had professors of veterinary medicine advising on best practices, but places like Winston County, 25 miles away, struggled to provide basic necessities to the animals in its care.

Anderson, who works as an administrator at the university, saw a way for OCHS to step up our game: they would transport in more animals. At first, it seemed anathema: the goal was to have fewer. But if OCHS could act as a hub, consolidating the work it took to prepare animals for transport, it could reap the rewards of volume. Instead of Rescue Waggin coming down for five animals, we were able to fill the entire truck, says Anderson. They began working with partner organizations to bring in more dogs; and a growing list of transport partners to ship dogs out. From 2009 to 2019, OCHS live-release rate skyrocketed from 50% to 95%; rather than euthanizing every other animal, it found homes for all but one in 20. Last year, the little shelter sent out 1,842 dogs and 844 cats on transports, about two-thirds of which came in from partner organizations. If we didnt have transport, it would be devastating for us and the groups we work with, says Anderson. Its transformed the lives of these animals, and the people who are dealing with these animalsbecause now they have some sort of hope.

Four-month-old siblings Zelda, left, and Zara, right, traveled together from Mississippi to Massachusetts

Evan Angelastro for TIME

On the other end, there are plenty of shelters eager to receive them. Sheryl Blancato, founder and executive director of Second Chance Animal Servicesone of the shelters that met the flight in Massachusettsremembers, around 2007, when her kennels began to empty out. We noticed that we started to have space, Blancato recalls. From the street, the Massachusetts and Mississippi facilities dont seem that different; like its Southern counterpart, Second Chance occupies a converted house on the edge of town. But whereas OCHS had (and still has) an endless stream of new arrivals, by the mid-2000s, Second Chance began seeing far fewer. Blancato started driving down overnight to Virginia or Maryland, returning with a full van. She saw how the adorable new arrivals increased foot traffic at the shelter, which in turn increased the likelihood that the harder-to-love, or the older-and-larger, would find homes.

Blancatos experience tracked a broader transformation in American dog culture. Animal welfare used to be animal control: the dog catcher of lore. (Its how Blancato got her start.) Private shelters began to pop up in the 1980s and 90s. Petfinder, the ubiquitous classifieds site for adoptable dogs, was founded in 1996right on the heels of Craigslist and Match, the year beforeand similarly revolutionized how people found pets. In 2005, Hurricane Katrina galvanized animal welfare, as evacuees despair over their abandoned pets showed how much companion animals meant to people. In response, Congress passed the PETS Act in 2006, which required local governments to accommodate family pets in their disaster planning. In 2007, the ASPCA aired its famous Angel commercial, with singer Sarah Mac-Lachlan asking viewers to give a second chance to an animal in a shelter right now. Astonishingly, it alone raised $30 million for the ASPCA in its first two years, and helped cement the image of a rescue dog as a virtuous good, rather than a nuisance. By the time Insta-gram launched in 2010, and the oldest millennials turned 30 and began adopting their own animals (and giving them their own accounts), #AdoptDontShop was a movement. In the 1990s, fewer than 10% of dogs were adopted from shelters; today, that number has grown to nearly 30%.

That steady increase in demand coincided with a decrease in supply. Around the same time, in the late 2000s, veterinarians launched a concerted effort to spay and neuter more dogs and cats. The strategy was in part technique: vets developed ways of performing the surgery faster. They could set up assembly-line clinics, bringing down the cost per animal. But it was also law: 32 states now require that an animal be sterilized before it is released from a shelter. It exponentially reduced the number of animals born outside of deliberate breeding. Puppies became scarce.

Not in Mississippi. Dr. Phil Bushby, one of the more prominent proponents of the national spay/neuter efforts, teaches at Mississippi State. He thinks of this interplay between surgery and transport like a faucet flooding a basement. Transport is bailing water out of your basement, he says. Spay/neuter is turning the faucet off. You have to do both.

Presley, 8weeks, left, and Hazel, 18months, will be adopted immediately

Evan Angelastro for TIME

On a crisp Mississippi afternoon with a deep blue sky, Camille Cotton sits in front of two computer monitors inside her office, a little red brick building at the edge of the OCHS parking lot. Think Pawsitive, says the plaque above her desk. Each week, sometimes several times a week, Cotton organizes the transports. She starts with a blank spreadsheet and begins assembling her manifest, drawing on the animals waiting at OCHS for their ticket out, or checking in with any of three dozen partner organizations to see who might be transport eligible. When Cotton texts, they reply immediately. If she takes their dog, it frees up a crowded kennel, with the assurance that the animal will go on to a good life. Theyre all pets, theyre just homeless, Cotton says. They just need somewhere to go.

Some come with scars, others with stories. Elmer Fudge, a 1-year-old hound mix, was the largest on Cottons list that day, at 49 lb. Hed arrived at OCHS a couple weeks earlier as a stray, and the staff now knew him well. Elmer Fudge is ready to lick your face and smell your yard, noted the last column of Cottons spreadsheet. The mix is crucial, like a box of bonbons, but sometimes its not that easy, Cotton says. Bless their hearts they might all be black and brown. Joyce, a 3-year-old pit bull mix, is white, and traveling with four of her 2-month-old puppies. Joyce is a sweet soul, notes the manifest. She has been through so much. Joyce and her pups were among 19 animals seized from a home where a murder took place. Cotton tries to stay dispassionate. The ones at OCHS, we know each other, she says, but you cant have favoritism on transport, because you can lose sight of whats best for the dog, and whats best for the source shelter, and whats best all around.

The ASPCA precisely manages the movements of its 18 vans, which run north full and south empty. It also sets strict requirements for how both source and destination shelters participate in the relocation program. Everyone needs to follow the ASPCAs thick portfolio of standard operating procedures, covering everything from how the dogs are tagged before departure to keeping track of which destination states require which heartworm preventatives. As much as anything, the shared procedures help build connections between the source and destination communities. Rather than well-resourced Northern shelter workers shaking their heads at the poor treatment of animals by their Southern colleagues, the program gives everyone a better understanding of their shared challenges. When possible, they visit one another. Have them walk a mile in their shoes, because theres nothing like that, says Heather Cammisa, former president and CEO of St. Huberts Animal Welfare Center in New Jersey. Theyre already getting their teeth kicked in, just on what they have to deal with every day.

Read More: Some Workers Are Choosing Their Pets Over Their Jobs As Offices Reopen

Over time, the shelters that needed the most help find themselves in a position to help others. At the ASPCA, they call it pushing the line: when the problem of animal overpopulation is solved in one place, it can be meaningfully addressed in the next. What were starting to see is shelters that started as sources of dogs for us, become aggregators of dogs for their own communities, says the ASPCAs Bershadker. When OCHS brings in healthy animals from around the region, those rescues can devote more energy to their struggling animals. Its definitely a domino effect, where we help them, they get help from their community, and it evolves, says Anderson.

Cheyanne Gustafson walks Hazel into quarantine at Second Chance Animal Services

Evan Angelastro for TIME

Cottons group was headed from OCHS to Wayside Waifs, a shelter in Kansas City, Mo., around 600 miles away. Each month, Karen Walsh, ASPCAs senior director of animal relocation, creates a transport calendar with her team. They poll the destination shelters on how much space they have; confirm that the source shelters dont have any health issues, like a distemper outbreak; and plan the routes. The ASPCA operates five Way-stations, overnight rest stops that serve as dog motels for their transport program, in Kentucky, Tennessee, Virginia, California, and Kansaseach serving shelters within a 650-mile radius. Its a costly program because we do it that way, but its a very safe program because we do it that way, Walsh says.

They talk about someday putting themselves out of business. The end point would be when a combination of transport and population control balances supply and demand, and animals are no longer euthanized for space in America. The adjacent risk, however, is a shortage of dogs that spurs unsafe puppy breeding. That prospect has some discussing the possibility of shelters in high-demand areas starting their own breeding programs. For those who vividly recall the era of high euthanasia ratesmuch less those who are still living itits a shocking idea, like a cocktail hour at rehab. But, its proponents argue, encouraging more healthy American mutts could be an alternative to allowing commercial puppy breeders to meet the public demand for animals.

The next morning, a crescent moon hangs over the Mississippi predawn. After a night at the Hampton Inn, the ASPCAs drivers, Mel Rock and Jess Tippie, beep the van back up to the OCHS door. The staff gathers around, and Tippie checks the paperwork on an iPad and shuffles the printed rabies certificates in plastic sheaths. All the health certs were good? Rock asks.

Then the dogs start coming. A 20-year-old volunteer cradles Button, a tiny dachshund shes been fostering at home for 10 days. Rock and Tippie had already labeled the crates strapped into the back of the van, determining in advance where each animal would go. Their moves are all choreographed and codified by the ASPCA, from closing the van door while each animal is loaded in, to changing out their surgical gowns and gloves to prevent the spread of any illness. Andrea Spain, a professor of English at the university who runs her own small rescue, brings over Mo, a 9-month-old Rottweiler mix, who jumps in circles. Rock fills a red watering can with bottled water, then slips its thin spout through the mesh crate doors, filling each animals bowl for the all-day journey.

Its 38 dogs in total, and also a webbing of ties between communitiesin Starkville, in Mississippi as a whole, at the destination shelter in Kansas City, and wherever the dogs end up. When the truck leaves, OCHS has space for 20 new animals. Not for long. No sooner than we get a couple of kennels open, here comes a newbie! Cotton says. There is a door they open somewhere and its just like Who let the dogs out?

Blum is the author of The Weather Machine and Tubes: A Journey to the Center of the Internet

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