"Bill, this is a whole new thing to me and I’ve been here, in this shelter, for 20 years. Did you see those big boxes, to the left of the front door? I nod affirmatively. "Well those are drop-off boxes. When the shelter closes down for the night, people can still drop off stray dogs. But we’re not getting ‘strays’ anymore. We find dogs, when we come to work in the morning, with little notes in the boxes, telling what they like to eat, maybe their name, or a brief history of medications."

"Shellette, why don’t they just come during office hours, and you ask them some questions about their dog?"

"They’re ashamed. They never leave their name and telephone number. They’re forced into it and this is the way they deal with it. We call these pets "owner released animals." And the numbers are increasing steadily. And what you saw with Lettie’s owner is not the exception. We’re getting more and more pets brought in, the owners are no longer able to care for them."

"I don’t get it, Shellette. The guy looked healthy, able to take care of Lettie."

"It’s all different now, Bill. Rents in the Bay area are going up and up and up. "Low cost housing" in Alameda is now over $300,000. Apartments are scarce and if you find one, the manager says, "No pets." And if pets are allowed, the security deposit is doubled. Military families moving in have brought their family pet with them only to find few if any apartments will rent them if they have a pet.

" The whole family comes in to give the pet up. I just go into my office and close the door. Let one of my staff deal with their sorrow. It’s getting to me now. And I know people who moved farther out into Castro Valley to find less expensive apartments. The same thing is happening out there. No pets. But it means that over 50% of the dogs we shelter here were voluntarily given up."

Moose has been one of my favorites. A big hunk of a dog, with a face reminscent of one my blood hounds years ago. Joy and sadness expressed so quickly that he tugs at my heart and so I walk him. He stops at curbs. Pulls hard in the beginning then slows down to a chipper walk after the first block. Stops when I say, "Stay." A beloved pet of someone, this dog is now rootless. At night when I listen to the dogs bray, just a block away from the sailboat I live on, I wonder if maybe one of them is Moose, offering his lament to the moon filled night.

Too many dogs for adoption, too few people living in housing accessible to pets. A friend of mine, living on a sailboat across the dock has an "illegal" pet staying on his boat. The marina has a rule: No Pets, written in the contract.

"But my daughter has had to move to a less expensive apartment and she can’t find one that allows dogs so at the last minute I volunteered to take ‘Chum.’ Do you know of anyone that wants a dog?" His brown and black dog wagging her tail, as if waiting for my reply.

I shook my head. I thought about Lettie. In the midst of her sorrow, being caged up, in a building filled with barking dogs all jumping up and down, wanting to be noticed, walked, adopted.