Published April
11, 2012
Associated Press
LOS ANGELES – Fix
the dogs and feed the men.
That's what Lori
Weise decided to do 16 years ago when she started working at Modernica Inc., a
furniture factory on the edge of L.A.'s Skid Row. She couldn't get to work
without seeing the homeless being bullied and their dogs or countless other
strays being abused.
She created
Downtown Dog Rescue in the back of the factory and, with the help of
co-workers, started trapping strays. She talked to the homeless, one man at a
time, convincing them their dogs would be better off spayed or neutered.
Food was a
powerful incentive. She posted fliers in alleys and doorways, promising free
pizza for the men and free surgery for the dogs at a mobile clinic she arranged
for. She worried no one would come, but when she arrived, the line was two
blocks long.
The homeless also
couldn't get a dog license without an address. So Modernica's address was used
to license 300 dogs.
Since those early
days, Downtown Dog Rescue has paid for thousands of surgeries, placed or
fostered thousands of dogs, and provided meals galore for man and mutt. The
shelter is still located in the back of Modernica, but there aren't many
homeless left downtown, so Weise now brings shelter services to Compton, where
the crime rate makes living hard for residents and the euthanasia rate makes
living a challenge for dogs.
For the last two
years, a monthly spay and neuter clinic has been held in a Compton park, run by
the Los Angeles County Department of Animal Care & Control with $100,000
annual funding from DDR.
In 2011, the
clinic sterilized close to 800 dogs, according to Weise, and the euthanasia
rate for pit bulls at the county shelter dropped 30 percent.
Dog trainer
Cornelius "Dog Man" Austin is also part of Weise's team. Growing up
in South Los Angeles, Austin said, the streets were infested with pit bulls.
"I was 10 or 11 and in my neighborhood, that's all they did was fight pit
bulls," he recalled.
Today he holds
weekly obedience classes for DDR at the Los Angeles Coliseum, teaching owners
basic commands, agility, urban walking and what to do if your dog is attacked.
The class draws between 30 and 50 dogs a week.
While Downtown Dog
Rescue has grown since the late '90s from a couple of kennels to 22, Modernica,
the furniture maker, has grown from six employees to 80. Owners and brothers
Frank and Jay Novak are neither dog people nor homeless activists, but they
believe in what Weise, their plant manager, stands for.
The shelter helps
define the company and has become part of the company's culture, Frank Novak
said. He marvels at the way Weise comes up with choice homes for unwanted dogs.
"She never
talks down to people," Novak said. "She is so genuine. I think people
are impressed by her sincerity and people know none of the money (close to
$200,000 in donations a year) goes to administrative costs."
Eight months ago,
Modernica started moving its production plant to a bigger building in Vernon.
They have given Weise a half-acre where she can build a new shelter but she is
still negotiating with the city for permits. The rescue is also working to
raise $50,000 for the building, plumbing and electricity.
Meanwhile, the
dogs are downtown, where the company's prop department (they do a lot of
Hollywood work) will stay. Weise drives back and forth each morning and night
to care for them.
"She is a
one-woman army. What she means to Compton and homeless people with their pets
is services they would never get otherwise," said Bob Goldman, a
veterinarian at VCA Petville Animal Hospital in Los Angeles.
"She is
fearless. She will go into neighborhoods nobody in their right mind would go
into. She just goes with her conviction and knowledge she is going to help
somebody," said Carole Pearson, founder and president of Los Angeles-based
Dawg Squad. Pearson, who specializes in placing Rottweilers, helps Weise with
any Rotts she finds.
Weise is often
asked to speak at seminars and conferences across the country. That's where
Stephanie Downs, co-founder of FiXiT Foundation in Virginia met her.
"I was
inspired by her determination and willingness to do what it took to get to the
root of the problem," Downs said. "She works in some of the roughest
neighborhoods in the country and doesn't follow the standard model we are
expected to in the spay/neuter industry."
Most of the men
(it was rare to find women on the streets back then) Weise befriended 15 years
ago are in prisons or hospitals or have died. But Weise took many of their
dogs. "I promised a lot of the men as long as their dogs are alive, they
will have a good place to live and I'll love them," she said.
She has about nine
dogs in retirement at her home. That includes Clancy, a 15-year-old pit bull
and the rescue's unofficial mascot, who accompanies Weise almost everywhere she
goes.
Clancy was a
professional fighting dog before Weise rescued him five years ago. "He is
now the dog he was meant to be," she said.
Austin is always
telling Weise she can't save every dog, but they both keep trying.
"Look at
Clancy, the battle wounds on his face," Austin said. "This dog went
through battle rounds. Somebody cut his ears off. He's got 50 scars on his
face. He's one of the best. Just like Lori."
