This Thursday, April 9, the public safety committee (made up of supervisors Matt Dorsey, Alan Wong, and Bilal Mahmood) will hear a proposed ordinance amending the Health Code to require that every dog in San Francisco, with certain exceptions, be sterilized (along with licensed, vaccinated, microchipped, and leashed in public areas). Right now, sterilization laws are only enforced only for pit bulls. As a longtime advocate (and pit bull mom), I fought for the legislation years ago when around 98 percent of dogs at our city shelter Animal Care and Control (ACC) were pit bulls and most were being euthanized. After it was enacted, euthanasia rates fell dramatically from around 98 percent to 14 percent. Now, because of Pandemic Puppy Mania and the homeless who breed and sell puppies on the streets for drugs, the city shelter is in crisis. Between July 1, 2024, and June 30, 2025, ACC killed 550 dogs.
I asked Voice contributor Amber Richmond to write a column on what she experienced living as a drug addict on the streets with her dog, Duchess, some of which may sound shocking but isn’t uncommon. For example, female dogs don’t like to be bred, so the female is held while the male rapes her. For dogfighting rings (where many of the puppies bred on the streets wind up), owners use a “rape stand,” where the female is strapped in and unable to escape while the male mounts her. Because they bring in so much money, French bulldogs are showing up on the streets, many of them stolen. The majority of females, however, can’t have natural birth and require a cesarian or “C” section, otherwise the female and/or her puppies often die. “Frenchies” are showing up in shelters at an alarming rate, some carrying their dead puppies inside of their tiny bodies, and most with other horrific breed-specific health issues. Some don’t make it out of shelters, either euthanized for their health or for lack of space. Local rescue groups like gobeyondrescue.org wonderdogrescue.org, and californiabullyrescue.org have dozens of them, from puppies to adults, available for adoption.
I could write a book on the many reasons all dogs in the country (and in the world) should be sterilized, vaccinated, given regular veterinary care, and microchipped (a chip the size of a grain of rice that is implanted in your pet with contact information so if they are lost or stolen, they can be scanned and returned to you). The main reason for sterilization is a simple one — there are too many dogs and not enough homes. The statistics are daunting: Nearly 400,000 dogs were killed, mostly for lack of space, in the United States last year alone. (I’ll go into cats in an upcoming article, which are killed at a rate of 2 to 1 compared to dogs.)
— Susan Dyer Reynolds, CEO and editorial director, The Voice of San Francisco
When I was homeless in San Francisco, I got a dog for two reasons:
I was sleeping outside alone, and I was tired of feeling like I had no one. Everyone told me not to do it. They said I was homeless and that I didn’t need the responsibility. I did it anyway.
I found her on Craigslist. The people wanted $50 and told me to meet them in the Safeway parking lot on Market Street. I had a $100 Bloomingdale’s gift card, and at the time Safeway had a machine that would buy gift cards for cash — sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. That day, it worked. I got exactly $50, met them in the parking lot, handed it over, and they handed me the dog. Her name was Princess. I changed it to “Dutchess” — spelled wrong on purpose so I could call her Dutch or Dutchy.
Raising a puppy on the streets
Very early on, I learned about parvo or parvovirus. Someone explained it to me like this: the dog basically dehydrates from the inside out, and treatment costs thousands of dollars. I knew immediately — if Dutchess got it — I wouldn’t be able to save her, so I did everything I could to prevent it. I carried her everywhere in a bag big enough to hold her. When she got too heavy, I pushed her in a stroller. She got so used to it that if I set the bag down, she’d curl up on it like, “Pick me up.” I didn’t let her touch the ground until she was fully vaccinated.
I went to every free or low-cost vaccination event I could find, especially the Homeless Connect events at Bill Graham Civic Auditorium, where community veterinarians would come and help people like me. It wasn’t easy. Carrying her was hard. Feeding her was hard. Keeping up with everything was hard. But I made a commitment, and I loved that dog more than anything.
She ate before I did every time. Even when I was still using drugs, I made sure I had enough money for her food. I carried pop-top cans so I wouldn’t need a can opener. I kept a bowl, water, and a blanket for her at all times. For a long time, she wouldn’t even sit on the ground unless I put something down first. That’s how used she was to me protecting her.
I brought her to the San Francisco SPCA with $500 cash I had borrowed. They wouldn’t treat her. Not even to stabilize her — while she was visibly suffering — unless I could come up with half of a $5,000 bill.
Once, I asked someone to watch my dog. We were supposed to meet later at Carl’s Jr. on Seventh and Market streets. The time came and went. Then hours passed. Then a full day. Then a week. I had no idea where my dog was. I checked the shelters. Nothing. I searched the streets. Nothing. Finally, I asked the San Francisco Police Department for help. They found out the person I left her with had been arrested trying to cash a stolen check, and my dog had been taken to Animal Care and Control. I had been calling them all week and checking the website multiple times a day, but the guy I left her with didn’t even tell them she wasn’t his. She was taken in as if she belonged to him. I luckily got her back, but after that, she rarely left my side again.
The only stability I had was my dog. There was one person I trusted — a woman in the Richmond District with a dog of her own. If I had to hustle or handle something, I knew I could go back and my dog would be there. But most of the time, it was just us.
After my heart surgery, I couldn’t even walk her. I was in bad shape. I had to call my mom and ask for help. I found a ride on Craigslist, brought Dutchess to Auburn, and my mom kept her for six months while I recovered. Getting her back was everything to me. Eventually, we made it into the Navigation Center together. She slept in a crate right next to me every night. All I ever wanted was a place where her food bowl, her water, and her bed didn’t have to move every single day.
The reality for most street dogs that people don’t see
While I was out there, I saw a lot. I saw dogs breeding constantly.
I saw dog being forced to mate. I saw puppies handed off too young to be away from their mothers with no vaccinations. I saw dogs traded for drugs or cash. Not everyone treated their dogs badly, but a lot of people did. Dogs became currency. A way to make money. A way to settle debts. And it made me sick. I won’t pretend I was perfect, but I took care of my dog. I did everything I could with what I had. But honestly, that level of care definitely wasn’t the norm.
Why the proposed law matters
San Francisco is now considering a citywide mandatory spay-and-neuter law (File No. 251162), which would require most dogs over one year old to be sterilized. From what I saw on the streets, this could make a real difference. It could reduce the number of unwanted litters.
It could cut down on dogs being bred for quick money. It could prevent a lot of suffering — for both animals and people.
My own dog was spayed at five months before I could get her back from the shelter — because she was part pit bull, and that is the law in San Francisco. I didn’t choose it, but in the long run, it made things easier. But I also know this: enforcing a law like this won’t be simple, especially for homeless people. Most people on the street don’t take their dogs to the vet, don’t license their dogs, and don’t interact with “the system.” So how do you actually make it work? One place it could matter is in shelters. When dogs are picked up or when owners are arrested, having those dogs spayed or neutered before being returned would create real impact.
If San Francisco is going to require spay and neuter, then the city also needs to make it realistically accessible, especially for people in supportive housing and shelters. Because right now, it’s not. Even for someone like me today, getting a dog spayed or neutered means calling places like the San Francisco SPCA, waiting for an appointment, dropping your dog off early in the morning, and picking them up hours later. It might be on a “sliding scale” based on income, but it’s still expensive, and the process itself is a barrier. Now imagine doing that while homeless. No car. No stable schedule. Nowhere safe to leave your dog to recover. That’s why the few responsible homeless dog owners don’t do it — not because they don’t care, but because the system isn’t built for them.
The cost barrier is real, especially at the private San Francisco SPCA
Even people with jobs struggle with veterinary costs. I’ve seen it, and I’ve lived it. A couple of years ago, I helped rescue a dog off Sixth Street that had been severely abused. After her first round of vaccinations, she got parvo. I brought her to the San Francisco SPCA with $500 cash I had borrowed. They wouldn’t treat her. Not even to stabilize her — while she was visibly suffering — unless I could come up with half of a $5,000 bill. The $500 wasn’t enough to do anything despite the fact the SPCA has millions of dollars. I had to scramble and borrow more money, and I still haven’t been able to pay it back. Without that, she would have died, or that $500 would have gone toward putting her down. That’s the reality of veterinary care in this city.
If San Francisco mandates spay and neuter and other veterinary services without making it accessible, it won’t reach the people it needs to unless they bring services directly into shelters, navigation centers, and supportive housing to offer on-site, low-barrier veterinary care.
Homeless people don’t have dogs because it’s easy. We have them because they’re often the only thing we have. My dog gave me protection. She gave me purpose. My dog gave me a reason to keep going, but she also made everything harder — both things can be true at the same time. If San Francisco officials want to really solve the problem of dog overpopulation on the streets, they have to understand all of this and meet people where they are. If they do all of these things, then this law could really work.