Love and heartbreak. They’re the two biggest occupational hazards of working in a shelter. The animals come to us desperate and sad or injured and pleading for help. Once you look into those eyes and they stare back at you with unspoken gratitude and unconditional love; the bond is formed.

That’s the way it was with Gregory. He arrived into our care in February of 2024 with an injured eye and a broken leg that had not healed properly. Both the leg and eye would need to be removed. After multiple surgeries, infections, rehabilitation and different courses of treatment, he finally seemed to be on the mend. His “coming out party” was at our K9’s Cats and Caddies golf tournament on May 31^st. He made the rounds up and down the rows of golfers, getting pats, nuzzles and tons of attention. We had adoption applications with us that day but nobody applied for him so we made him available for adoption on our website. When that didn’t work, we found him a foster home. That’s when the first red flag went up. He bit a friend of the foster volunteer.

We removed him from the list of adoptable animals, brought him back to the shelter and put him on a ten-day bite quarantine; standard procedure for any dog bite. He regressed in the kennels so we moved him into an office shared by our veterinarian and our animal programs manager. He quickly became the office mascot; soaking up all the love and affection he could get. Gregory loved being around his people and his people loved him. I would go and visit him two or three times a day; walking him when I had time and giving him belly and chest rubs when I only had a few minutes to spare. Socialization is a proven method of correcting behaviour issues in dogs and the benefit of having Gregory in the office was mutual. A little time with a dog that loves attention is like a mental re-boot.

Unfortunately, the success of his office time didn’t last. This time the bite victim was a Provincial Animal Welfare inspector. The officer refused to blame Gregory and instead took responsibility for not being more cautious, even though the bite was impossible to predict. After another ten-day quarantine and some work with an animal behaviour specialist, we came to the conclusion that Gregory was protecting his office mates. The trigger that prompted this protective reflex was unclear so we opted to move him out of the busy office into another foster placement. Sadly, Gregory bit again. A dog with one or two bites on their record is difficult to re-home but with three bites, our options dwindled. The possibility of finding him a forever home had disappeared into a dark cloud of medical records, quarantines and public safety. Transferring him to a rescue was becoming unlikely as well. Many rescues refuse to take dogs with a bite history, and those that do have long wait lists.

We had done our best - gone above and beyond - but as his one-year anniversary approached, we were faced with the worst possible choice. On Thursday, January 9^th, our Quality of Care committee decided that Gregory was out of options. He would be humanely euthanized. It was an agonizing but unanimous decision. I’ll never forget the sound around the table; a deafening silence broken only by sobs of failure, sharp intakes of breath and a dozen broken hearts. His last day with us would be Monday January 13^th.

Unbeknownst to management, sometime between Thursday night and Monday morning, a staff member had reached out to a rescue in New Liskeard, Ontario. The rescue needed more information but they might have a spot for Gregory. After a long conversation between the rescue, our veterinarian and the management team, we came up with a plan to get him to New Liskeard. Neither of his closest caregivers was available to make the long trip and since the danger of a bite was all-too-real and the weather could be questionable, I was not willing to put anyone else at risk. It would need to be me. Just after 8 am on the morning of Saturday January 25^th, I loaded Gregory into the back of the car and we hit the road. As the day wore on, I stopped thinking about why I was driving and got lost in the gently falling snow and the vast beauty of Northern Ontario. As I arrived at the agreed upon transfer location it occurred to me that I wasn’t quite prepared to say goodbye. After a brief introduction to his new caregiver, I got down on one knee, forehead to forehead with Gregory. I told him he was going on an amazing northern adventure, that we all loved him and we all would miss him. As I lifted him into the warmth of the waiting truck, I could barely see through the tears, but Gregory was unfazed. His single, smiling eye, his lolling tongue and his willingness to settle into his bed on the backseat gave me confidence that somehow, he understood. This was his last, best chance for a new life.

Gregory’s outcome was ultimately a happy one and it came about because an entire team of dedicated animal welfare professionals never once gave up; even when we were faced with the worst possible choice. Love and heartbreak. They’re with us every single day at the Kingston Humane Society and they motivate us to keep doing our best for every animal in our care.