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Improvements at city animal shelter

Although Howard Nelson had heard stories about the city's beleaguered animal shelter, nothing had prepared him for what he saw. The Feltonville facility was caked with filth from top (leaks in the ceiling) to bottom (mouse droppings on the floor), says Nelson, chief executive officer of the Pennsylvania SPCA since March 2007.

A puppy rescued from a dog-fighting house is under observation at the PSPCA on Erie Avenue, Philadelphia shelter. (Sharon Gekoski-Kimmel / Staff Photographer)
A puppy rescued from a dog-fighting house is under observation at the PSPCA on Erie Avenue, Philadelphia shelter. (Sharon Gekoski-Kimmel / Staff Photographer)Read more

Although Howard Nelson had heard stories about the city's beleaguered animal shelter, nothing had prepared him for what he saw.

The Feltonville facility was caked with filth from top (leaks in the ceiling) to bottom (mouse droppings on the floor), says Nelson, chief executive officer of the Pennsylvania SPCA since March 2007.

Animal cages were in serious disrepair. The air was "oppressively still" and stank of years of mildew.

With the PSPCA's animal-control contract taking effect Jan. 1, he had less than 30 days to hire 72 staff and totally renovate the former warehouse.

"I was slightly panicked," says Nelson, not one given to overstatement.

Panic paid off. The project is 90 percent complete, thanks to almost $3 million from the city. The shelter's overall budget this year is $4 million.

As is often the case with animal lovers, there's plenty of free labor - 70 volunteers spent New Year's Eve painting the black walls a creamy yellow.

On a tour, Nelson, 45, proudly pointed out new ceilings and ductwork; three new exam rooms; an enlarged cat-intake center; a "behavior room" for hard-to-handle pets, with a full-time behaviorist; and an upgraded kitchen.

A six-person lifesaving department, including a lost-and-found coordinator, has been added to the medical staff of 13. To avoid overlap, all surgeries and adoptions have been moved to the PSPCA's Erie Avenue headquarters.

Animals are fed twice a day instead of once. Starvation cases get a third meal of chicken and rice.

The shelter's previous operator, the Philadelphia Animal Care and Control Association (PACCA), had the city contract for four years. Former president Dana Spain attributes problems to a lack of municipal support.

"The city said it didn't have any more money. It put up obstacles every place it could."

Izzat Melhem of the Department of Public Health disagrees. "The city was providing as much support as we could for capital improvements. We were working with them to address all the issues."

The PSPCA and PACCA have a long-standing enmity that Spain says will end up in court. In the meantime, Nelson and his crew are taking care of business.

In its first month of shelter operation, the Animal Care and Control Team logged 2,100 strays and unwanted pets.

That was up 350 animals from January 2008, due, largely, to the plummeting economy.

"People are giving up pets because they can't afford to eat themselves," says Nelson, who brings his rescue dogs, Emmy, a black Labrador retriever, and Cali, a husky and shepherd mix, to work with him every day.

"Our intake is scarily high - this is supposed to be a slow time. The owner surrenders are heartbreaking."

Another reason for the intake spike: The animal-control team has been expanded to 13 officers and four transport trucks patrolling neighborhoods for strays. At least one truck is on the road at all times.

Open 24 hours a day, the shelter must accept all animals, regardless of health.

Two full-grown alligators, from different Philadelphia owners, were brought in within a week of each other. The owners said they had grown too large to be pets. (The alligators, not the owners.)

Both were quickly donated to a reptile sanctuary in New Jersey, Nelson says.

Two emaciated horses from a home in Strawberry Mansion - one of which was living in the dining room - were surrendered Jan. 24. They'll be ready for adoption soon, Nelson says.

Dogs and cats dominate the shelter's population, of course. After a medical exam, they are transferred to the PSPCA, where they will be put up for adoption or sent to other shelters, rescue groups or foster care.

From 40 to 70 animals make the trip every day. If an animal is severely aggressive, terminally ill, or in excruciating pain, it is euthanized.

The shelter's "save rate" was 72 percent last month, up from PACCA's 68 percent in 2008. Nelson has pledged to make Philadelphia a "no kill" city within five years.

PACCA's Spain is dubious. She says the PSPCA manipulates its statistics. She also says it used backroom politics to sabotage her group's most recent one-year city contract, and accuses the PSPCA of coveting its donor database.

"They've been throwing tomatoes at us for months," says Spain. "We tried to play by the rules. The bottom line is that they're into raising money and raising their egos, and we're out to save animals."

Nelson labels Spain's statements "patently false" and the product of sour grapes.

PSPCA operates the shelter with "full transparency" and will have an annual audit, Nelson says. He says he wants the database - which tracks every animal that enters the shelter - only to reunite owners and their pets, not for fund-raising.

Changing operators was the city's call.

Set to run through June, the animal-control contract was put out for bid in September because of numerous complaints about service at the shelter, according to Melhem.

An independent panel of three experts unanimously recommended PSPCA over PACCA, Melhem says. The city has no plans to rebid the contract when it comes up for a one-year renewal in June, he adds.

Despite the city's budget crunch, the shelter has a fixed contract, and Melhem doesn't expect cutbacks "at this time."

For Nelson, it's not about dollars. The shelter projects a $1 million shortfall this year, he says. Donations and fees are expected to close most of the gap.

"We knew it wasn't a good money decision for us," Nelson says. "It was a big undertaking. Lots of people were asking us to step in and help."

Nelson has been rescuing animals since he was a kindergartner in Upstate New York. He and his older sister would carry motherless baby raccoons home and bottle-feed them.

"We'd take them to the state park 10 miles away, but they always came back," he says. "The neighbors started complaining."

In 2002, a "horrible wake-up call" - cancer - persuaded Nelson to abandon his long executive career at Fannie Mae and pursue his passion for animals. In 2007, after two years as head of the Animal Humane Society in Washington, he moved here for his $189,000-a-year job.

Nelson and his partner of 22 years, sales executive Marc Nasberg, 49, recently adopted their third rescue dog, Priscilla, a pit-bull mix.

"I love animals, and I love people who love animals," Nelson says. "Animals love you unconditionally, whether you're having a good day or a bad day.

"They need someone to speak up for them. That's what I do."