Time county got serious with dog control function

Dog control has remained an orphan function of Yamhill County government for decades, starved for even a welcoming embrace from the powers that be, let alone extension of meaningful financial support. And the all-talk, no-action repercussions have been growing exponentially along the way.

Yamhill County’s longest serving commissioner, Mary Starrett, expressed her frustration at a recent budget session.

When you’ve got a “donkey’s in the ditch” problem, she advised her colleagues, your focus should be on how to get it out, now how it managed to fall in. Unfortunately, we seem to be getting a lot more of the latter than the former.

Back in the day, the county had three full-time sheriff’s office employees overseeing the licensing, impoundment and return of local dogs, with the aid of a fairgrounds boarding facility staffed in part by jail inmates. With a total budget running almost $475,000, the crew was able to mount a serious licensing effort featuring door-to-door sweeps, media campaigns and a credible enforcement threat.

But the kennel fell into such disrepair it had to be shut down in 2015, and the county disbanded its dedicated dog control team two years later. At the time, then-sheriff Tim Svenson said Yamhill was the only county in the state still trying to get by without general fund support.

By enlisting the support of city police departments, contracting with private kennels and falling back on a private endowment fund, the county has managed to stagger on with the vestiges of a program.

But the endowment has run out, private kenneling expenses have risen and lack of oversight has allowed an already anemic flow of licensing revenue to slow to a trickle. As a result, the coffers stand $107,000 short even for the current bare-bones semblance of an effort.

The county covers the cost of myriad other functions out of an annual budget now topping $200 million, making dog control needs seem miniscule in comparison. But for reasons that defy logic, it has decreed the function must pay its own way via licensing revenue, then choked off meaningful collection of even that.

If we’re going to drag the donkey out of the ditch, not just compile a new chapter each year on how it came to fall in, the starting point should be joining other Oregon counties in putting dog control on the same general fund footing as other vital public needs. We could build on that by working to improve today’s woefully low compliance with Oregon’s dog-licensing mandate.

Perhaps we could enlist the aid of veterinarians, commercial boarding kennels, nonprofit animal shelters, marketing campaigns, phone and internet options, enhanced enforcement and city partners — even commercial pet licensing operations like DocuPet, BarkPass and PetData. If we can enlist the DMV in the registration of voters, none of that seems outside the realm of consideration.

We’ve let revenue dwindle from $180,000 to $60,000 over the last 15 years. At the program’s current minimalist level, that difference alone would enable us to continue muddling through, were it to be fully realized.

We might also try indexing fees to keep them abreast of inflation. Studies show lack of public attention and meaningful enforcement deter licensing, but higher fees typically do not.

Nationally, dog licensing compliance only runs about 23%, but jurisdictions making a serious effort have been able to double or triple that. That would enable us to ease the general fund bite and still begin mounting a credible program again, going forward.

Let’s get this donkey out of the ditch so we can move on.