Policing Parents

Where is the line when it comes to the adoption process?

By Jenni Terry

Jamie Hanks, formerly of Arlington, had considered adopting a dog for quite some time. She knew it would be a huge commitment, but her soft spot for “pound puppies” eventually convinced her she was ready. Owning a dog would require daily planning that would surely impact her social calendar—not to mention her wallet—but it would be worth it.

Unfortunately, a certain Northern Virginia adoption group assessed her situation differently.

Hanks, a Congressional press secretary, was flatly rejected due to the group’s concerns that her notoriously demanding profession would hinder her ability to properly care for a dog.

The group—who I prefer not to name as I do not wish to demean the good they do—had an intensive adoption process that included three stages: application, interview and screening.

“I didn’t even get past the application round,” Hanks says.

Her rejection letter spelled it out—she could not receive a dog because they knew what life was like for D.C. commuters, especially people in her job field.

Personally, I believe she was blatantly discriminated against, but Hanks—disappointed and shocked at first—now seems understanding.

“Looking back, I think they were right in that having a puppy might have been too much to take on,” she says.

She moved to Capitol Hill a few months later and has no current plans to try again, though her shorter commute would most likely present her as a
more “worthy” candidate.

Considering all of the dogs and cats in Northern Virginia that need a good home, I am flabbergasted by Hanks’ experience. Whether her “rejection” is common or not, I cannot say, but it certainly raises the question of whether adoptions groups can hinder their mission by exercising overly stringent screening processes and requirements. Taking the Heidi Klum “You’re either in or you’re out” approach is perhaps not the best way to determine whether a person deserves to adopt a pet.

Denying dog adoption to people like Hanks—who was willing to rearrange her life and occasionally lean on neighbors and friends for support in order to create a loving home for an orphan puppy—is not only discriminatory; it’s ridiculous.

I balked at this system five years ago when searching for a cat. Though I truly understand the need to check people out—after all, the world is full
of cat hoarders and other “weirdos”—I clicked out of a very detailed online application when I reached a section requiring an essay on the measures I would take to locate my cat if I ever lost her.

To me that level of prying is akin to walking up to a mother in a grocery store and advising her to put back the sugar-filled cereals because they’re bad for her child.

I avoided all the judgment and found my cat on Craigslist. And thank goodness I was the one who did. The woman who sold her to me insisted my cat had received her first round of shots and a check-up, but she could not produce records. I immediately took Alabaster to the vet and discovered she had what the doctor called one of the worst cases of ear mites he had ever seen.

And we took care of her—without any group telling me how to.

Tags: adoption, dogs, Northern Virginia, Northern Virginia Magazine, NoVA, pet adoption, pets