Los Angeles daily herald., 1888-12-10
THE DOG-POUND.
A Visit to the Home for Lost
CANNES.
WHAT BECOMES OF THEM.
A Forty.eight Hours Confinement
and Then Liberty or
Death.

Milton Lewis, the keeper of the dog
ponnd, was engaged in the blood-thirsty
occupation OF loading revolver when a
HERALD man dropped into his cabin on
the river front yesterday afternoon.
elbow are your" he said, checking a
low whistle with which he had been
entertaining himself. "Lost your dog?"
The scribe stated that he had had no
such animal in his possession, and then
explained that he had called in to get a
few pointers upon the manner in which
the pound is run, whereupon Milton inn :
mediately announced that he was at his
visitors disposal. The first thing was
to take look at the prisoners, ,and mot
ley crew they were. Dogs of almost every
known and unknown race looked up in
uuiringly as they saw a pair of eyes
turned on them from without, and then
set up a howl that for lack of melody
could not be surpassed. They probably
thought that the scribe had come to set
them free, and one cute-looking fox
terrier expressed his delight by playfully
nipping strange looking brute by his
side and received in return a snort and
snap that sent him, tail between his legs,
discomfited to the corner. A retriever
tried to force his way through the bars
as the scribe stepped back, and set up q
seemed to strike keynote for all, for q
plaintive wall went up that seemed al
most human in its appeal.
"They must be hungry" said the re-
porter to Milton, who Indignantly re-
piled, "No, sir; every dog that goes into
that cage gets all he wants to eat and
drink until he goes away, either to a
home or to the place where he winds up
his career forever. suppose you want
to know how this whole thing is handled,
80 come along into my room and I'll tell
you all I know"
Milton's chamber is really part of the
pound as there is simply wooden parti.
ton between him and his charges, and
as furniture was rather scanty the scribe
took seat on the side of bed, kicked
open the door 80 as to get plenty of fresh
air and then looked attentively at his
host, who sat mediatively collecting his
thoughts. "Well," began that individual
at last, ''you have Of course seen the dog
catchers at work on the streets. They get
25 cents piece for every unlicensed dog
they catch, and as the wagon with its
lariaters brings in about sixteen dogs a
day they make pretty good wages. The
catchers have instructions to arrest every
untagged dog and if they happen to bring
in licensed animal who has simply lost
his badge, his owner can reclaim him
without cost and the catchers are mulcted
in that amount. When the dogs are
brought here they are turned
into the pen and fed, and
then take record of them all. Forty
eight hours after their arrival here they
become public property and anyone can
come and select any of them and for 50
give him bill of sale for his choice.
Should the owner of the animal see it on
the streets afterwards he cannot claim it
for our title is given by the city and is
absolute. About every week we kill off
the uncalled for dogs. They are loaded
into wagons and taken outside the city
limits, where they are killed and
scalped, for the Poundmaster gets 81
from the city for every scalp he presents.
That is where his profit comes in. He
gets the 81 tax for every dog claimed or
sold from here and also the blood money,
and out of this he pays for the catching,
the food and other attendant expenses.
We do not kill any valuable dogs be-
cause we can always dispose of them
sooner or later"
81 suppose you have some fine animals
here sometimes?" queried the news
gather.
"Why, yes; during the four months
that 1 have been in charge there have
been dogs worth $50 apiece in our ken
nels. There was splendid setter in
there for about week, and began to
think that would have to send him out
to the graveyard, for he was eating his
head off, and there were no demands for
dogs that week, but sporting gentleman
dropped down one day, sized him up and
pulled out the So without word of dis
sent"
"How do you manage to sleep here
with that din, which l suppose goes on
in the night as well as the day ?" said
the reporter.
"Oh! have got used to it. 1t was
pretty hard al first, especially when a
dog would get in there and howl with
that melancholy moan which supersti-
tious people dread. don't mind it now,
though, and can drop off to sleep with
full chorus going, with as much ease as
if they were barking lullaby"
ever have any riots in there?"
Sometimes, but soon stop them. 1
have got special pens for the bad charac-
ters, but as a rule there's not much
trouble You see they are frightened
and therefore not much on the fight"
BE sure you get it in straight about
the dogs getting plenty to eat," said Mil
ton, as the scribe arose to take his
departure. "It makes me mad
when ladies come down here look
ing for their dogs. They peer
through the bars, and when the dogs
howl they say, 'Oh, the poor creatures,
they must be starving. 1 always tell
them that the dogs have a good sight
more to eat than good many people
around town, but 1 know they don't
believe me. Good day call around when
you want dog and I'll pick you out a
good one."
"Adios," said the scribe, and the dogs
watching through their prison bars howled
q mournful farewell as he walked away.
GOOD SPORT.
gNH,. nocAvAs nf &evaPRl a 10