Rethinking rescue Dog Lady and the story of America's forgotten people and pets

In this eye-opening account, journalist Mithers (Mighty Be Our Powers) profiles L.A.-based animal welfare advocate Lori Weise, presenting her activism since the 1990s in evocative juxtaposition with an examination of how classist undertones have since emerged in the very movement Weise spearheaded. Now largely led by wealthy donor-activists, today's rescue movement seeks to remove animals from "undeserving" homes, according to Mithers's well-researched history, which spotlights other prominent figures like Hollywood philanthropist Gillian Lange, whose organization instituted the first background checks for pet adopters. But when Weise first became active in the movement, "rescue" meant saving animals from euthanasia in shelters--not "unsafe" homes--and keeping them united with their owners, most of whom had fallen on hard times. Indeed, Weise first began promoting "no kill" policies because of her work with homeless people. As an employee at a factory on L.A.'s Skid Row, she got to know the area's homeless population, and she was drawn into the no-kill battle as a means of bolstering the emotional health of those living on the street, whose relationships with animals strengthened their spirit. Mithers applauds Weise's work but doesn't cut corners; she unflinchingly depicts the harrowing conditions pets face in homeless encampments. The result is a provocative challenge to contemporary mores regarding animal welfare. (Aug.)

The fascinating story of the woman working to address the "problem pet population" in Los Angeles. In downtown L.A., Lori Weise is known as the Dog Lady, but her work is unlike the standard stories of Humane Society and pet adoption features. Mithers introduces Weise as a child, with her own beloved pet and personal suffering, before following her decades of work in Skid Row, South L.A., and Watts. Weise's mission, which she calls the Downtown Dog Rescue, is to help poor and unhoused individuals keep and properly care for their pets, even as they battle demons like addiction, PTSD, and omnipresent violence. The author composes her vivid portrait from a series of stories about the people and animals Weise has helped, each indicative of how deeply a person's well-being is connected to the well-being of their pets. Weise's work has dovetailed with initiatives like the rise of no-kill shelters, the demonization of pit bulls, and the promotion of "adopt don't shop" by celebrities. Mithers dutifully outlines these movements and their problems, providing eye-opening financial details, revelations of discriminatory adoption policies, and a jaw-dropping account of pet hoarders. As Weise has discovered, the biggest problem with the usual rescue paradigm, laced with judgment, "was neither a pet problem nor a people problem. It was a poverty problem." The Dog Lady's revolutionary power stems from leaning into the intersection of comprehensive social justice work and pet rescue efforts, and the author draws considerable narrative force from following her subject into that intersection. The text shows both Mithers and Weise confronting systemic issues like racism, housing costs, and the failure of social safety nets, simultaneously stirring outrage, stimulating compassion, and suggesting a better understanding of how to help people living in poverty care for the pets they love. An engrossing, inspiring read for lovers of dogs and humans alike. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.