by 
Maria Goodavage
 
Five? 10? 20? 100? You can't tell a hoarder by the number of dogs -- or can you?
 You love your dog, so you get another to keep her company. And then 
you find a stray and you have to take him home. Then you see this 
irresistible dog who needs a place to bunk down, so naturally he becomes
 part of your household. Another dog comes into your life, and you can’t
 say no. You love them all, and give them a good home, so occasionally 
people just dump a dog on you.
Your canine brood grows. It gets a little crowded, but you’re okay. 
You know you have more dogs than most people, but you can handle it, and
 the dogs need you. At some point, you might get strange looks. Then 
someone may refer to you by the "H" word: 
Hoarder.
  
Wait! What? You can’t be a hoarder. You love your pets, and you don’t
 have hundreds, or even dozens, or all that many compared to those 
stories you read. But some people still look at you askance, as if 
they’re saying, "There goes that crazy dog lady!" And you might start 
wondering just where the line is drawn between hoarding and just having a
 larger-than-normal number of pets. Is it a certain state of mind 
coupled with certain actions, or is there a magic number? Are you 
defined as not a hoarder at X number of dogs, but once you pass that, 
you tip the scales into lightweight hoarding?
Of course, there is no simple equation. It’s about much more than 
numbers. There are many theories about what makes someone a dog hoarder 
(here's a good article about 
pet hoarding/collecting),
 but there’s no clearly defined number cutoff. If someone with X dogs 
cares for his dogs but isn’t keeping them in ideal conditions, how does 
the law differentiate between him and someone with X+1 (or more) dogs 
who are given the best care the owner knows how to give?
I started thinking about this question when I read about two 
Pennsylvania brothers who pleaded guilty to animal cruelty after nearly 200 dogs, mostly 
Chihuahuas,
 were discovered in their house. Like most other hoarders, they truly 
loved the animals and thought they were doing what was best for them. 
According to the 
Philadelphia Inquirer, it was hard for the brothers to enter the guilty plea. They said they “treated the dogs like our boys and girls.”
What set these men apart from many hoarders was the condition of the 
dogs in general. Unlike what’s found in many hoarding cases, most of the
 dogs were in decent shape. “Veterinarians who checked the Chihuahuas --
 plus two other dogs that were also removed from the residence -- found 
no serious health issues, only minor eye, teeth and skin problems, and 
officials say they apparently came from a loving home,” the article 
said.
Yes, authorities found the bodies of 30 dogs in the freezer, but 
they’d died of natural causes. (Not being able to part with the bodies 
of deceased pets is another of the characteristics of many hoarders.) 
Unlike the case of 
Rosie, the severely deformed Chihuahua we’ve been writing about since her 
rescue from a hoarder in June, there were apparently no calamitous deformities from inbreeding issues in this household. 
The brothers' situation is a classic hoarding case, perhaps minus the
 decent physical conditions of the dogs. But where did they stop 
becoming simply super-caring dog lovers taking in their share of dogs to
 becoming hoarders? Again, before I get accused of oversimplifying 
things, I realize that hoarding/collecting animals is a very complex 
psychological issue; it’s anything but clear-cut.
At one point, fellow author and Dogster writer 
Julia Szabo had five large dogs living in her small NYC apartment. She’s down to four, but it seems people still talk.
"While most people say nice things about how kind I am to rescue, and
 how healthy and happy and well-socialized my dogs are, etc., a few 
(mostly anonymously, online) have accused me of being a hoarder," Julia 
wrote me. "These lovely folks call themselves 'true animal lovers,' and 
such. To which I say, if y'all were such true animal lovers, maybe you'd
 have ONE dog each, so I wouldn't have to have four or five?"
Her dogs are all rescues, and generally sleep in her bed –- yes, the 
non-kingsize bed you see above. If Julia lived in a big country home, no
 one would ever consider her a hoarder. But that fact that she’s a 
single gal living in a small one-bedroom apartment in New York City with
 four big pooches tips the scales for some people.
If you saw her apartment, you would shake your head at those who hurl
 around the H word so easily. It is neat. It is lovely. Yes, it may have
 more doggy doodads than the average NYC apartment, but it's definitely 
not the abode of a hoarder. My one-dog, one-child house should be so 
well organized.
Years ago I knew a woman in my San Francisco neighborhood. She had 
somehow accumulated about 10 dogs through her rescue efforts and failed 
foster attempts. Her yard was kind of stinky, and in her house you were 
lucky not to trip on Kongs and tennis balls and rawhide bones. But it 
wasn’t unhealthy, just slightly cluttered with dog toys –- and dogs. Her
 landlord (yes, she was a renter) was getting pretty balky about all 
those critters, and she was way over the city’s dog limit. I remember 
clearly when she told me she was going to move to Montana to live on a 
few acres she was buying with her partner. “We can keep the dogs, but no
 more of them. I’m not a hoarder, at least I don’t think so, but I was 
beginning to worry.”