Collaring the license gap

By ARNOLD MARKOWITZ
Herald Staff Writer

Everybody knows that, you say? Evidently not.

They are finding out in rather large numbers, though, because Dade County Animal Control has gone proactive. In three years, tickets issued to owners of unlicensed dogs have more than tripled, and fine collections have increased tenfold.

The number of dog licenses is rising, too, but only by a little more than 12,000 in three years. Dade's compliance rate is dismal: Fewer than a third of the dogs are licensed. The unlicensed two-thirds presumably are not vaccinated against rabies; you can't get a license without a vaccination certificate.

Certain things are considered common knowledge: It gets dark at night. French is spoken in Paris. Dogs have to be licensed. Still, a lot of people caught with unlicensed dogs claim they had no idea.

``Oh, I get that all the time,'' says Joan Clingerman, a Dade dogcatcher for 14 years.

Does she believe it? ``Not really.''

Most states either require dog licensing or, like Florida, let counties and municipalities require it. John Zobler, director of Dade Animal Care and Control, says the compliance rate here is pretty bad.

The county estimates its dog population at 420,000, according to a formula developed by the Pet Food Institute. In the 1994-95 fiscal year, Dade issued 133,765 dog licenses. That means a little less than 32 percent of the dogs are licensed.

Until the last couple of years, an unlicensed dog's chance of being picked up was slight. For years, Animal Care and Control mostly responded to complaints, and it didn't respond to a large percentage of them. Now, Zobler says, about 60 percent of the complaints get a response.

His agency has 13 dogcatchers on stray animal duty. There are two who answer reports of injured animals, two to pick up the dead, a dangerous dog investigator, a cruelty specialist and an enforcement supervisor.

Clingerman, in her dark blue uniform, looks rather like a police officer, though without pistol, handcuffs, pepper spray and other weapons. The only items on her black patent leather belt are a walkie-talkie and a folding knife.

Clingerman wears short sleeves, disdaining heavy gloves. Her weapons are a stout leash and an unobtrusive catching device that looks like a short black buggy whip formed in a loop.

Clingerman, who grew up on a farm near Auburn, N.Y., is confident of her way with animals. In 14 years on this job, she has been bitten only twice, and one of those was her own fault, she says.

Dog-catching is not a job for the faint-hearted, but it is for the soft-hearted.

``Oh, I love it,'' Clingerman says. ``It's sad, though. . . . You can't take it home with you.''

Yes, you can. Clingerman has four dogs, all adopted from the county shelter. There's a Doberman named Battle, a hound named after country comic Minnie Pearl and two leopard hounds, Conway and Garth.

On patrol one day last week, she took these dogs into custody: first, male and female Rottweilers, hanging around the Miami Lakes post office. Next, on Northwest 105th Street, she was given a sickly looking mixed-breed by a woman who took it away from a teenage boy who had been dragging it toward a canal with a garden rake.

The next assignment was logged on Clingerman's worksheet as a D.A.L. -- short for dog at large.
Gathering strays

There were four on Northwest 188th Drive, hanging around the home of Harry and Marjorie Torres for a couple of weeks: a black-and-tan female and three males, no collars, no tags. One male looked something like a long-legged cocker spaniel, another seemed to be half Labrador. There was a tan one, too, healthy-looking for a true stray.

``I've been giving them something to eat. Felt sorry for them,'' Marjorie Torres said. ``I wish we could find them a home.''

Clingerman easily caught the female. The dog held still while Clingerman gently lifted her onto the truck and into the cage. The Labrador was much warier. They played cat-and-mouse for several minutes. Clingerman pretended to lose interest. The dog plopped down in the shade of a palm clump; Clingerman slipped up behind with her loop and got him. The other two dogs took off.

Harry Torres, who sent for the dogcatcher, felt a little bit guilty. Maybe when these two are cleaned up, someone will want them, he said.

Clingerman shook her head. ``Nobody's going to adopt these two,'' she said.

Dogs that are not adopted are put to death. The total last year in Dade: almost 19,000.

Dogs caught by dogcatchers don't account for much of the jump in license violations and fines the past three years. Zobler, the animal control director, said only about 400 of the 24,000 animals taken into custody last year had identification. He can't send tickets to unknown violators.
$150 no-license violation

The bulk of the violations are charged to people like Charlene and Les Henig, North Dade real estate agents. They were brought up short by a notice posted on their home, citing them for ``failure to obtain a required license for an intact dog.'' It was going to cost them $150.

Their dog is Petey, a female border collie, age 2. Petey is not intact, in the reproductive sense meant by the law. That made the fine only $50, but the Henigs were still mighty upset. The person they talked to at Animal Control informed them that if they didn't pay within 30 days, it would be $500.

``We had never been informed by anyone that we needed to purchase this license,'' Charlene Henig complained in a letter to The Herald. The Henigs have had dogs for 20 years; Petey is their third.

Charlene Henig acknowledged later that they were not really ignorant of the law, just not right on top of it. In the past, they had always renewed their dogs' licenses when it was time for the annual rabies shot, and it sort of happened automatically without them thinking about it.
Forgot to renew

This year, the Henigs had a lot of problems on their minds, nobody reminded them about the license when they brought Petey for her rabies shot, and it just slipped by.

Until she saw the $150 citation, Henig said, ``I just didn't think about it. I didn't realize I hadn't been given a license. I went to the vet the next day and bought it.''

Veterinarians issue dog licenses, getting a few dollars for doing the paperwork. The base price is $25. Petey qualified for a $5 discount because she is spayed.

The Henigs consider themselves responsible pet owners. Their dog is dear to them. It would be unthinkable to let her run around the neighborhood alone. She never saw a dogcatcher.

Who, Charlene Henig wondered, squealed on Petey?

John Zobler looked it up.

``A mosquito control inspector,'' he said. ``When they're out in the field doing their regular duty, and they see a dog in a yard, they write the address down and report it to us. We check the database. If there's no license at that address, we send out a notice.''