Homeless won't leave pets to get off streets

Homeless won't leave pets to get off streets

By Jennifer Brooks • THE TENNESSEAN • November 17, 2008
The leaves are falling, the nights are cold and Carolyn Garton would like nothing better than to move out of her makeshift shelter in Tent City and into a nice, warm house.

But not without her Sunshine.

"She's my baby. God brought her to me," said Garton, pulling Sunshine into a hug. The black and tan shepherd mix thumped her tail and wriggled closer to lick her owner's chin.

Garton, who's known around Tent City as Mama Bear, has been homeless for two years. Sunshine's been by her side for most of it.

"She was brought to me at a hard time in my life," said Garton, who took in the abandoned puppy on a bleak, rainy day a year and a half ago. A look around their camp shows the lengths she's gone to provide for her pet. Sunshine has her own pillow and a nest of blankets in the tent they share. Volunteers have donated kibble, veterinary care and flea drops — enough to ensure that the homeless pet is living at least as comfortably as her homeless person.
Animals give love, purpose

Tent City is the oldest and most visible of Nashville's many homeless encampments. Tucked into no-man's land between the river, the railroad tracks and the highway overpasses, the encampment has been plagued by bad publicity, crime and pressure from urban redevelopment.

The city is desperate to shut the place down and relocate residents to better housing. But subsidized housing is scarce, waiting lists are long, and landlords willing to take in a homeless tenant with a pet are nearly nonexistent.

But for many of the homeless, giving up a pet to get into housing is simply not an option.

"Having a pet when you're homeless takes on an added significance," said Steve Samra, an outreach worker with Park Center who has been working with Tent City residents. "It's very hard for them to see a stray dog walk past them."

Laurie Green, one of the volunteers who provides free food and medical care to homeless pets, agreed.

"It's one homeless soul on the street to another," said Green, founder of the Southern Alliance for Animal Welfare.

"They're told by so many people that they're worthless. They're treated like either they're invisible or something to walk past fast. A dog is something that will love them unconditionally.

"These animals give people a purpose," she added. "It gives them a reason to stay on their meds, to get up in the morning."
Tent City closing halted

At last count, there were 32 people living in Tent City. There were also about eight dogs and almost 20 cats. The homeless pets are just one of the many reasons why Nashville officials have suspended their plans to shutter Tent City some time in the near future.

"It's an enormous barrier," said Councilman Erik Cole, a member of the Metropolitan Homelessness Commission, which is wrestling with the Tent City issue.

"Landlords often have no-pet policies. Some would argue that these people shouldn't have pets, but that's not human nature. … These people have taken responsibility for these animals and their welfare. That's a virtue we ought to be able to reward."

Living on the street, or in a tent, isn't an ideal situation for humans or animals. But the alternative for pets is the pound, and the alternative for humans is a life of even deeper loneliness.

But at Tent City, residents know their neighbors, and they know their pets.

A big, goofy Rottweiler mix named T guards the entrance to the camp, barking a greeting to visitors from a salvaged couch in his owner's yard.

"I got him when he was 6 weeks old. The guy who had him was feeding him bread and water," said his owner, known around the camp only as Cowboy. That was three years ago, and T has grown into a happy dog who lives to play football with an old knit cap.

"He's my pride and joy," Cowboy said. "I'd rather give up my old lady than give up my dog. I'm serious."
Some willing to leave

In the shadow of the highway overpass, a young woman shows off her 6-month-old calico cat, Brooklyn Dixie. She rescued the kitten after someone tossed her and her littermates out of a moving car from the bridge above. Brooklyn Dixie was the only survivor.

The woman won't give her name, but she will show off the tattoo on the small of her back of her cat's face and name.

In another corner of the camp, an elderly spaniel named Sheba sits on a ragged armchair outside her owner's tent and barks hoarsely at anyone who comes near — unless they stop to scratch her behind the ears.

Dewey Marsh stroked Foxy Roxie, a half-grown gray cat who keeps his campground clear of rats. He's fond of the cat, but if a slot in one of the subsidized housing programs opens up, Marsh said he'd take the house and trust the others in Tent City to look after Foxy.

"We're all waiting on housing," he said.

For some Tent City residents, the wait is over. Howard Allen and Ann Denton-Allen married under the bridge in Tent City in April, found work and have since moved out into a trailer of their own — a real home.

But moving out of Tent City meant giving up their pets — a miniature dachshund and an elderly Siamese cat. Green found foster homes for both pets, sparing the Allens the stress of caring for the animals while they were working to get themselves on their feet.

"It's a struggle, finding transportation, food. It's a weekly struggle to make the rent," Denton-Allen said.

"We wouldn't have been able to care for our animals. We had beautiful, wonderful animals. … But someone else is taking care of them now."