đ° LATEST ACTION: Emergency Response at Riverside Animal Haven
When the Food Runs Out: 48 Hours at a Shelter in Crisis
Phoenix, Arizona | November 18-20, 2024
The call came on a Friday afternoon.
"We have three days of food left. Maybe four if we cut portions. We have 82 dogs. I don't know what we're going to do."
The voice on the phone belonged to Jennifer Reyes, director of Riverside Animal Haven in Phoenix, Arizona. Her shelter had been operating for six years without major incident. But a perfect storm of circumstances had brought them to this moment: nearly out of food, no funds to buy more, and 82 dogs who needed to eat.
We arrived Monday morning with 800 pounds of dog food.
This is what we found.
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FRIDAY: THE REALIZATION
Jennifer didn't realize they were in crisis until Thursday evening during inventory check.
Riverside Animal Haven operates on a tight budget. Monthly expenses run around $12,000ârent on the facility, utilities, veterinary care, staff wages for two full-time employees, and food. Always food. With 82 dogs, the shelter goes through approximately 500 pounds of kibble per week.
They rely on a patchwork of funding: small monthly donors, occasional large gifts, adoption fees, and a quarterly grant from the county. It's enough to keep going, barely, as long as nothing unexpected happens.
In October, unexpected things happened.
First, the county grant was delayed. Administrative backlog, they were told. It would come, just two months late instead of on schedule. That was $8,000 they'd budgeted for that didn't arrive.
Then, an emergency vet situation. A pregnant dog came in, complications during delivery, emergency C-section needed. The cost: $3,400. The shelter's emergency fund: $2,000. Jennifer paid the difference from her personal account.
Then, their regular food supplier went out of business. The replacement supplier charged 40% more for the same products.
By Thursday, November 17th, Jennifer was doing inventory and facing math that didn't work.
Current food supply: 147 pounds
Dogs in shelter: 82
Daily food consumption: approximately 70 pounds
Days until empty: 2.1 days
She sat on the floor of the storage room and cried.
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SATURDAY: THE FIRST CUT
Saturday morning, Jennifer called an emergency staff meeting. Her two full-time employeesâDavid and Lisaâand four regular volunteers gathered in the small office.
"We need to stretch what we have," Jennifer told them. "Starting today, we're cutting portions by 25%."
The room went silent.
"For how long?" David asked.
"Until we figure something out."
Cutting portions means every dog gets less food. The big dogsâthe German Shepherds, the Lab mixes, the Pit Bullsâthose are the ones who feel it most. They're already on calculated portions to maintain healthy weight. Cutting 25% means they'll be hungry.
The small dogs, the puppies, the nursing mothersâthose couldn't be cut. They needed their full portions for health reasons. Which meant the cuts came entirely from the adult, healthy dogs.
Saturday's feeding was rough.
"You could see it in their faces," Lisa told us later. "Dogs know their portions. They know how much they usually get. When the bowls came out smaller, they knew. Some of them looked at us like, 'Is this a mistake? Where's the rest?'"
Tank, a 90-pound Rottweiler mix, finished his reduced portion in thirty seconds and sat staring at his empty bowl for ten minutes. Waiting. Hoping more was coming.
More wasn't coming.
By Saturday evening, the shelter had 112 pounds of food left. Enough for Sunday and maybe Monday morning if they kept cutting portions.
That night, Jennifer posted on the shelter's Facebook page: "Emergency situation. We're out of food and funds. If anyone can help, please contact us."
The post got 47 shares. Three people donated small amountsâ$20, $35, $50. Total: $105.
Enough to buy maybe 60 pounds of food. Not nearly enough.
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SUNDAY: THE HARD CALLS
Sunday morning, Jennifer started making calls.
She called other shelters in the Phoenix area. Could they spare food? Everyone was stretched thin. One shelter donated three 30-pound bagsâgenerous, but just a drop in the bucket. Another shelter offered to take five dogs to ease the burden. Jennifer said yes. Five dogs transferred out means five fewer mouths to feed.
She called the county animal services. Could the delayed grant be expedited? No. Bureaucracy doesn't move on weekends.
She called their veterinarian. Could they defer payment on last month's bill? The vet agreed. That freed up $800. Not enough for food AND next month's bills, but enough for immediate crisis.
She called pet supply stores, explained the situation, asked if they'd donate or discount. Two stores said yes to small discounts. One donated four bags of food.
By Sunday afternoon, Jennifer had cobbled together enough to buy 200 pounds of food. At their current consumption rate, that was less than three days.
"I was doing the math over and over," Jennifer said. "Trying to figure out how to make it work. Cut more portions? Down to 50% of normal? Dogs would be starving, but they'd be alive. Stop intake completelyâno new dogs until we stabilize? But then what happens to the dogs animal control brings in?"
Sunday evening feeding was worse than Saturday. The dogs were hungrier now. More vocal. More agitated. Fights broke out over foodâsomething that rarely happened when everyone got full portions.
Maggie, a senior beagle who'd been at the shelter for four months, ate her reduced portion and then sat by the fence whining. She'd been a family pet for eight years before her elderly owner passed away. The family surrendered her because "nobody wanted an old dog."
Maggie had never been hungry in her life. Until Sunday, November 20th, in a shelter that was trying its best but running out of options.
David sat with Maggie after feeding, scratching her ears. "I'm sorry, girl," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."
By Sunday night, the shelter had 86 pounds of food left. Enough for Monday morning feeding. After that, they'd be empty.
Jennifer didn't sleep Sunday night.
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MONDAY MORNING: THE CALL
Monday at 6:15 AM, Jennifer's phone rang.
It was us. We'd seen the Facebook postâshared by someone who'd shared it from someone else who'd shared it from the original post. It had made its way through the network.
"How much food do you need?" we asked.
Jennifer started crying. She couldn't speak for a full minute.
"All of it," she finally said. "We need all the food."
We told her we'd be there by 10 AM.
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MONDAY: THE DELIVERY
We pulled into Riverside Animal Haven at 9:47 AM. Jennifer was standing in the parking lot, watching for us.
The truck bed held:
- 600 pounds of premium adult dog food
- 100 pounds of puppy formula
- 100 pounds of senior dog food
- 50 pounds of grain-free (for dogs with allergies)
- 30 pounds of canned food (for sick dogs)
Total: 880 pounds of food. Enough for approximately two weeks at full portions.
Jennifer walked to the truck, looked at the bags, and broke down.
"I thought we were going to have to close," she said through tears. "I thought I was going to have to call animal control and tell them to come get all 82 dogs because we couldn't feed them anymore. I thought I'd failed them."
It took 40 minutes to unload everything into the storage room. Jennifer's staff and volunteers formed a line, passing bags hand to hand, stacking them carefully on shelves that had been nearly empty 24 hours before.
When the last bag was in place, everyone just stood there, looking at the full shelves.
"I've never been so happy to see dog food in my life," David said.
---
THE DOGS
After unloading, we walked through the shelter.
82 dogs. Every kennel full, some doubled up. The sound was overwhelmingâbarking, howling, the metallic rattle of chain-link fences.
These weren't 82 numbers on a spreadsheet. These were 82 individuals, each with a story about how they ended up here.
There was Tank, the Rottweiler mix who'd been waiting for his full portion. He was surrendered when his family had a baby and decided a big dog wasn't safe around children. Tank had never shown aggression in his life. He'd been at Riverside for seven months.
There was Bella, a lab mix found wandering the interstate. No chip, no collar, no way to find her owner. Sweet disposition, good with other dogs, house-trained. She'd been here three months.
There was Cooper, an 11-year-old golden retriever with arthritis and a heart murmur. His family moved to an apartment that didn't allow pets. Cooper had been here six months. Nobody wanted a senior dog with medical issues.
There was Luna and her eight puppies, three weeks old, nursing constantly. Luna was found in an abandoned lot, already pregnant. The puppies would be adopted quickly. Luna would wait months after they were gone.
There was Max, a pit bull who'd been seized in a cruelty case. Friendly, gentle, loved people. But he was a pit bull, which meant he'd been here ten months with only two applications, both rejected by landlords who didn't allow the breed.
82 dogs. 82 reasons they were here. 82 mouths that needed to eat every single day.
And for 48 hours, Jennifer hadn't known if she'd be able to feed them.
---
MONDAY LUNCH: FULL PORTIONS RETURN
Lunchtime feeding at Riverside usually happens at noon. Monday, they started at 11:30. Nobody could wait.
For the first time in three days, every dog got a full portion.
The difference was immediate. The agitation disappeared. The food aggression vanished. Dogs ate their meals calmly, satisfied, not desperately guarding every bite.
Tank got his full portion and, for the first time since Saturday morning, walked away from his bowl without staring at it. His tail was wagging.
Maggie ate her full portion and then lay down in her bed, content. Not whining. Not begging. Just satisfied.
The puppies got their formula. The seniors got their special kibble. The dogs with allergies got their grain-free food.
Everyone ate. Everyone was full.
"This is what normal is supposed to look like," Jennifer said, watching the dogs eat. "They're not supposed to be hungry. They're supposed to be safe and fed and cared for while they wait for their families.
For three days, I couldn't give them that. For three days, they were hungry in a place that's supposed to keep them safe.
I won't let that happen again."
---
THE REALITY CHECK
After feeding, Jennifer sat down with us in her office.
"I need to be honest about something," she said. "This food gets us through two weeks. Maybe three if we're careful. But then what?
The county grant still hasn't come. It might not come until January. Our regular donors are maxed outâI can't ask them for more. We're heading into holidays, which means adoption rates drop because people are traveling.
This delivery saved us today. But the underlying problem hasn't changed. We're a shelter operating on impossible margins, hoping nothing goes wrong, and things keep going wrong."
She pulled out a ledger, showed us the numbers.
Monthly expenses: $12,000
Reliable monthly income: $9,500
Gap: $2,500
"We make up that gap with emergency appeals, unexpected donations, adoption fee surges. We limp from month to month. Most months, we barely make it. This month, we didn't make it."
She closed the ledger.
"The system is broken," she said. "We're expected to care for every dog that comes through our door. Animal control brings them, owner surrenders happen, strays get dropped off. We can't say noâwhere else would they go?
But we're funded like a hobby, not like a critical public service. We're expected to operate miracles on prayer and pocket change.
I love these dogs. My staff loves these dogs. We show up every day and do everything we can. But we can't keep doing this. Something has to change."
---
WHAT HAPPENS NEXT
Riverside Animal Haven is still open. The 82 dogs are still being fed. Jennifer is still showing up every morning at 6 AM.
But the crisis isn't over. It's just paused.
The county grant finally arrived on November 29thâ$8,000 that should have come in September. It stabilized things temporarily. Jennifer paid overdue bills, restocked supplies, breathed a little easier.
But it's a temporary fix to a permanent problem.
Since our visit, three more dogs have arrived at Riverside. A family moved out of state and left their dog behind. Animal control brought in two strays. The shelter now has 85 dogs.
Jennifer is rationing supplies again. Not food this timeâthey're okay on food for now. But medical supplies are low. Cleaning supplies are running out. The van needs repairs they can't afford.
It's always something.
"People think running a shelter is all puppy cuddles and adoption days," Jennifer said. "They don't see this part. The part where you're constantly calculating whether you can afford to keep the lights on. The part where you lose sleep wondering if you'll have to close your doors and what happens to all these dogs if you do.
They don't see the director sitting on her office floor at midnight, crying because she doesn't know how to make the math work.
But the dogs see us show up every morning. They see us fill their bowls. They see us clean their kennels and walk them and tell them they're good dogs who deserve homes.
That's what keeps you going. Not the moneyâthere's never enough money. Not the public recognitionâmost people don't know we exist. It's the dogs. It's Tank wagging his tail when he gets his full portion. It's Maggie finally feeling full. It's knowing that today, right now, 85 dogs are safe and fed because you didn't give up."
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THE UNCOMFORTABLE TRUTH
Here's what nobody wants to say: Riverside Animal Haven is not unique.
There are thousands of shelters across America operating exactly like this. On the edge. One crisis away from closing. Directors paying bills from personal accounts. Staff working for less than minimum wage because they care more about the dogs than the paycheck.
The only difference is that Riverside's crisis became visible. They ran out of food and had to ask for help publicly.
But how many other shelters are silently struggling right now? How many are cutting corners, stretching supplies, hoping they make it through another month?
How many directors are sitting on their office floors right now, doing math that doesn't work, wondering what happens when the food runs out?
This isn't a story about one shelter in Phoenix. This is a story about a system that's failing. A system that relies on the kindness of strangers and the exhaustion of underpaid staff and the hope that somehow, it all works out.
Sometimes it doesn't work out. Sometimes shelters close. Sometimes 82 dogs lose the only safe place they have.
Riverside didn't close. Not this time. But they came within 48 hours.
How many other shelters are counting down their own 48 hours right now?
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WHERE THEY ARE NOW
We checked in with Riverside Animal Haven last week.
Good news: They're still operating. Food supplies are stable. The 85 dogs are being fed full portions daily. Four dogs were adopted in the last three weeksâTank finally found his family (a couple with no kids who loved his gentle giant personality), and three of Luna's puppies went to their forever homes.
Jennifer is still there. Still tired. Still fighting the numbers every month. Still showing up.
She sent us this message:
"Thank you for sharing our story. Thank you for the food that kept us alive during our worst week.
But more than that, thank you for making people see what shelter work really looks like. It's not Instagram-worthy puppy photos and heartwarming adoption stories. It's also crisis management and impossible decisions and wondering if you can afford to keep saving lives.
We need people to understand that shelters like ours exist in every city. We're all struggling. We're all one bad month away from crisis.
And we need people to care before we hit crisis. Not just donate when we're desperate. But support us consistently so we never get that desperate in the first place.
The dogs can't wait for us to figure out funding. They need to eat today. Tomorrow. Every day.
We'll keep showing up for them. We just need people to show up for us."
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Riverside Animal Haven is still accepting donations. They need approximately $2,500 monthly to bridge their funding gap. They also need:
- Dog food (always dog food)
- Cleaning supplies
- Medical supplies
- Blankets and bedding
- Volunteers for dog walking and socialization
If you're in the Phoenix area, 81 dogs are still waiting for homes. Cooper (the senior golden retriever with the heart murmur) is still there. Bella (the lab mix from the interstate) is still waiting. Max (the pit bull who's been there ten months) is still hoping.
They've been fed every day since November 18th. They're safe. They're cared for.
But they're still waiting for someone to choose them.
---
This is what shelter work looks like behind the scenes. This is what happens when the food runs out. This is what survival looks like when you're operating on the edge.
Jennifer Reyes and her team at Riverside Animal Haven show up every single day. They feed 85 dogs. They clean 85 kennels. They provide medical care and love and hope to 85 animals who have nowhere else to go.
They do it on impossible budgets with insufficient funding and no guarantee they'll be able to do it next month.
But they do it anyway.
Because somebody has to.
And 85 dogs are counting on them.
Riverside Animal Haven
Phoenix, Arizona
85 dogs currently in care
48 hours from empty on November 18th
Still feeding them all today
This is what showing up looks like when everything is falling apart.
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