Dog Number One

The first thing Michael Clarke noticed as he stood in front of the Bloomington home was the smell of skin infection.

With his first steps inside, the animal control officer also quickly picked up the smell of feces. Of urine. Of ammonia. His eyes watered as he moved further into the home.

Stepping over the straw and excrement covering the floors, Clarke looked at the chaotic scene in front of him — and dozens of dogs stared right back at him.

Some of the dogs, mostly Carolina dogs, sat in wired cages. Others strode throughout the two-bedroom house, their eyes tracking the officers as they walked across the room.

In the kitchen, a large male Carolina dog with pointed ears paced back and forth. His black fur coat was marked by light brown on his paws, chest and face — two small patches above his eyes almost resembled eyebrows. Though his path was somewhat obstructed by a wire cage, he walked, panicked, close to where another dog lay under the sink with her litter of puppies.

Clarke put a pile of nylon rope leashes down on a kitchen counter. He’d start by trying to take this dog out of the house first. But as he slipped the leash over the dog’s neck, the Carolina dog dropped to the ground. He started alligator rolling and pushed away.

“He will be difficult and may bite, none of them have ever been on leashes,” the homeowner told officers.

It took several officers to carry the dog, flailing, out of the house and into a plastic carrier waiting to transport him to the Bloomington Animal Shelter. Though the homeowner had given officers names for some of the dogs as they brought each one out; others didn’t have names yet and the animal shelter would rename many of them.

As officers coaxed the dog into a carrier to transport him back to the shelter, there were 67 dogs waiting back in the house — assigning each dog a number would have to suffice for a short while. The officers made a note and headed back into the house.

Dog number one was accounted for. Now just 67 more.

•••

Every day, animal shelter and control representatives in Bloomington and across the country see the harm humans can inflict on animals.

Maybe a resident, struggling with mental health, accumulates more animals than they can feasibly take care of, crowding dozens of pets into a single room. Sometimes a family decides their lifestyle is incompatible with a young, energetic puppy and turns it into an overflowing shelter. In some cases, animal control finds an animal already deceased, physically abused by a previous owner.

The Bloomington Animal Shelter was already nearing capacity when animal control and local police seized 68 dogs, mostly Carolina dogs, in March 2023 from what people familiar with the case described as the largest animal hoarding complaint ever received in Monroe County.

In every case, the shelter tries to heal some of this harm. But these 68 dogs tested this ability. Perhaps no dog tested this more than this first dog, who now goes by a different name: Mortimer (but many call him “Morty”).

Almost two years after the initial seizure, the rest of the Carolina dogs have slowly disappeared from the shelter’s list of adoptable animals — a sign of success. But though he was the first one taken out of the house by animal control, Morty’s page remains, the last of the dogs from the seizure waiting on adoption. It’s left those close to him wondering: can they help him find a home?

•••

Clarke had started his job at Bloomington Animal Control a month and a half before a woman called his department to deliver a complaint that, at first, didn’t seem like anything out of the ordinary.

She had purchased a dog from Robert Pryor, who was living in a two-bedroom home on North Adams Street. She told animal control she could smell feces and urine from the home’s front yard.

Animal control and the Bloomington Animal Shelter had heard of Pryor before. In years past, he had lived just outside of Monroe County. From 2018 to 2023, the shelter received at least 10 dogs associated with him. But because he lived outside of Bloomington municipal limits, there wasn’t much they could do.

The shelter also wasn’t a stranger to animal hoarding and neglect situations. Even in Bloomington, which had an ordinance banning the retail sale of cats and dogs until the state legislature voided it this year, animal neglect is prominent. A shelter representative said animal control officers respond to several thousand calls — ranging from reports of neglect, to stray animals to animal infestations — each year.

After receiving the complaint March 8, 2023, Officer Clarke and another animal control officer approached the home, unsure of exactly what they would find. Immediately he noticed dirt buildup on the home’s windows, trash bags of dog food in the yard and insects flying around the property.

After a few knocks, Pryor opened the front door.

Clarke told Pryor he would need to fill out the proper litter and boarding application to keep the animals in his home — and that he would need to schedule a required home inspection. They wanted to give him a chance to keep his breeding business. Pryor, who officers and shelter representatives described as very cooperative and helpful, agreed. Pryor also told officers he planned to bring some of the dogs to a Carolina dog rescue in South Carolina that month.

The animal control officers didn’t enter the home their first visit. But before Pryor closed the door, Clarke noticed three Carolina dogs peering out at him.

Carolina dogs are a relatively rare breed that are usually found living near the Georgia-South Carolina border, according to the American Kennel Club, a not-for-profit dog breed registry. The dogs are hesitant with strangers but adopt a pack mentality.

Over the next few days, officers communicated with Pryor over the phone and email. In an email, Pryor gave officers a list of seven adult dogs and 12 puppies that he planned to register. Then, officers scheduled an animal permit home inspection for March 16, 2023.

By the day of the scheduled home inspection, animal control and the shelter suspected the number of animals at 227 N. Adams St. was much higher than the list Pryor gave them — especially when a man arrived to the shelter the day of the inspection with a U-Haul carrying 10 dogs in wire cages, most with skin infections and urine scalding. Pryor had asked him to hide the dogs until officers finished the home visit, the man told animal control.

The first day officers entered the home for the inspection, they tallied 50 dogs and puppies — but the number rose to 68 when officers returned the next day to officially remove the animals.

During the initial inspection, officers took photo evidence of the home and wrote affidavit statements to obtain a seizure warrant, which judge Mary Ellen Diekhoff signed. However, when officers reached out to Pryor, he said he would rather freely sign over all the Carolina dogs to the shelter.

•••

When Morty and the other dogs arrived at the shelter on March 17, 2023, it was staggering.

In addition to arriving with skin infections and urine scalding, one of the dogs from the seizure, a dachshund, was in poor health and the veterinarian recommended euthanasia. Emily Herr, an outreach coordinator who has worked at the shelter for 17 years, said she has seen seizures where the dogs were in much worse physical condition. But Morty and the other dogs posed what she believes is a bigger challenge for a local shelter: behavioral issues.

Many of the dogs’ behavioral issues manifested as soon as officers entered the home for the seizure. Some of the dogs seemed uncertain or scared to see a human being, Clarke said. Others, like Morty, were terrified of leashes.

For a small shelter with only 20 people on staff, these challenges could be much more time-intensive and tougher to address than infection.

After they placed as many dogs as possible in foster care, shelter staff identified eight dogs who were “struggling behaviorally the most.” Morty was at the top of this list. Herr said he could not even lift his head to look at the staff and volunteers who tried to meet him.

Morty, like all the at-risk dogs at the shelter, received a team of four people. Their objective? To help Morty reach small goals — goals that might appear natural to other canines. One of Morty’s goals was simple: to wear a collar.

Their strategy all depended on Morty’s love for cheese whiz. First, a staff member would put a collar on Morty. Then, before he could think about his new accessory, they would give him some cheese wiz to eat, drawing his attention away. Then, they would take the collar off. And repeat.

“He had very small goals in the beginning,” Herr said. “But piece by piece, they all fill in and make almost a real dog.”

Slowly, Morty came to accept the collar and would take on a new goal. But while Morty made progress, some other dogs regressed. Herr said the shelter was forced to euthanize three Carolina dogs who became “offensively aggressive,” trying to bite people with the intention to harm — something that can be dangerous for shelter staff and potential foster and adoptive families.

The Bloomington Animal Shelter never turns away an animal and will hold an animal for at least five days. After that, the shelter gives animals a behavior and health evaluation. Many of the animals can be adopted or fostered, but if an animal is too sick, injured, aggressive or “behaviorally unsound” the shelter considers euthanasia, stating it “believes that euthanasia is the most humane alternative to an existence of suffering and pain or being limited to life in a cage.”

“Those were really, really hard decisions because obviously we want to take animals from a situation like that and give them a better outcome and regardless, I still do think we did,” she said. “We could at least provide them with a clean space to rest and food and water and fresh air. And though they didn’t want our love, we still love them.”

•••

In March 2024, Indiana Gov. Eric Holcomb signed House Enrolled Act 1412. The law voided local municipal ordinances that banned retail dog sales in Indiana — including Bloomington’s own ban on the retail sale of dogs. Critics argued the legislation protects inhumane puppy mills and commercial breeders.

The law will also make commercial dog breeders subject to random Indiana Board of Animal Health inspections starting July 1, 2025. If breeders do not register with the Board of Animal Health, they can face a Class A misdemeanor charge.

However, Herr said many hoarding and breeding situations are not always straightforward.

“I think the biggest misconception is that these people are monsters, and that’s just not the case,” Herr said. “When we look at people who end up in hoarding situations, it’s oftentimes a symptom of a much bigger problem that they’re having. You know, there’s a lot of mental health issues that they’re struggling with, there’s a lot of financial issues that they’re struggling with.”

Herr said she felt Pryor was unfairly targeted after the seizure, including when a broadcast news team started taking video of Pryor’s home.

“I do think there were some ethical issues happening, but he was very cooperative, he was very kind,” Herr said. “And he became a target in Bloomington. Even though the things he did were not great, people did not treat him with any kind of respect at all.”

Both Clarke and Herr said they believed Pryor did care for the dogs — that he thought he was helping protect the Carolina breed. Clarke said when one of the Carolina dogs escaped from his original foster home, Pryor had called the foster offering to help find the dog. He offered to send the foster parent a voice recording of himself talking to get the dog to come back.

“What kind of ‘monster’ would reach back out like that and offer help?” Clarke said. “That’s not a bad person, that’s a person with a great heart who still cares, you know, and just wants to do right. He wanted to make sure that those animals succeeded, and he thought he was doing that. He thought he was saving the breed.”

After the seizure, Pryor faced two different legal cases. In the first, he faced a civil charge for violating Bloomington’s local animal care ordinance, but this charge was dismissed. He was later convicted of a Class A criminal misdemeanor for cruelty to an animal. He was sentenced to 180 days in the Monroe County Jail — but this term was suspended — and 180 days of unsupervised probation.

Pryor could not be reached for comment through a phone number associated with him.

•••

Although he came to her with the name “Mortimer,” Casey Green, Morty’s foster mom, thinks his middle name, Octavius, is more fitting for the canine. Green assigned him the name, which he shares with a Roman emperor, when he started to come out of his shell this past year.

“He’s an Octavius,” Green said. “He’s regal, you know. That just stuck.”

And one day in mid-September, Morty was living up to his courageous name: by leaving his bed in the kitchen to catch a glimpse of the stranger standing in his living room.

He started by peeking his head around the kitchen doorframe. Only for a second, though — he didn’t want the stranger to see him. And he succeeded: by the time his visitor looked in his direction, Morty was already gone.

But it wasn’t good enough. His foster sister, Eleanor, was barking — what if she needed his help? He obviously needed another quick peek around the doorframe. This time he waited for a few seconds longer before bolting away.

Still, he wanted to know more. So, Morty continued his game of cat-and-mouse for the next 30 minutes, stuck between his curiosity and trepidation, before finally retiring back to his bed. Maybe he’d try again later.

For another dog, the task might be easy and an opportunity to snag a few treats and pets. But for Morty to even look at the newcomer from a distance, Green said, was “brave.”

Before coming to Green, Morty was in one other foster home for a few weeks. While he made significant progress in the shelter setting, Herr said they didn’t want to keep him there for long.

That’s when the shelter asked Green if she would be interested in taking him in. Green was known among the shelter as one of the best animal foster parents in Bloomington. She’s fostered around 130 dogs — mostly puppies — since she was in college.

She’s fostered lots of dogs with complicated histories. Sometimes she takes in puppies whose “mama dog” has tried to attack her litter. She’s fostered Pitbulls, mutts and designer breeds she thinks “shouldn’t exist” due to their conflicting health and behavior qualities — like “mastodor” named Mabel, whose family surrendered her to the shelter after refusing to bring her into their RV on a camping trip.

Before welcoming Morty, she fostered two other Carolina dogs from the seizure: Eleven and Kaia. Eleven’s adoptive parents Karen and Mike Kelley, call Green the “kibble fairy,” because she hand-feeds all her animals.

The Bloomington Animal Shelter brought Morty to Green’s house in December 2023. Usually, Green would pick the animal up at the shelter, but she didn’t have a car at the time and Morty was too large for her to transport by herself. When Morty got there, he was covered in feces (a “panic poop,” as Green described it). It was obvious he was scared. That was nothing new for her.

She sat on her kitchen floor with Morty, as he avoided her gaze and tried to push himself against the walls of her kitchen. He didn’t know Green and likely didn’t know why he was in this unknown house. The presence of another animal, a curious hound-mix named Eleanor, who was separated from him by a baby gate, probably wasn’t clearing up the situation.

It took a few days after this first introduction, but he eventually started to explore his new home. He sniffed the kitchen floor thoroughly and started to look through a glass panel on the kitchen door that led to Green’s backyard. Slowly, he started to venture out more — into the living room, into Green’s bedroom. Eventually, the baby gate blocking him from Eleanor came down.

A few weeks later, Morty decided to try something he’d seen Eleanor doing: playing with a toy. While Green was at work, he experimented with a dinosaur squeaky toy. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do as he approached the toy lying on the kitchen floor. He picked it up and started swinging his head, before accidentally letting go and launching the toy into the kitchen sink and hitting some dishes — a fun surprise for Green when she got home that night.

His confidence grew even more when he met one of his first friends: a Pitbull named Bronson. Green was watching Bronson, one of her former fosters, for a few weeks when the two first met, as Bronson pummeled into the kitchen and took a “play bow” stance. Unsure of what to do, Morty imitated him, awkwardly trying out the stance himself. Luckily, Bronson didn’t care about Morty’s hesitancy and started playing with him anyways.

Bronson was the one who got Morty to go outside for the first time in May 2024. Bronson was playing with Eleanor and Morty, and he ran outside into the backyard. Swept up in Bronson’s energy, Morty followed, stepping outside into the backyard full of scattered tennis balls, water guns and lawn chairs.

While he’s started to feel more confident going outside in the months since, sometimes he still needs an extra push. And one day in October, Green and four other canine companions — Bronson, Penelope, Sierra and Eleanor — were giving him that push.

Morty was presented with a new challenge: go outside with five people (three of whom were strangers) to play with his closest friends. At first, Morty considered it too much to overcome — he would just stay in the kitchen. But as he looked out through a window at the game of fetch going on outside, he decided to give it a shot.

First, in his usual manner, he started with a quick look outside the door to assess the situation. It seemed like the other dogs didn’t mind the new people, but he couldn’t be too sure. He’d watch for a little while longer.

The dogs ran back and forth from the kitchen to backyard, as if begging him to come outside. Then, Morty, suddenly caught up in the energy, ran outside, jumping over Green’s welcome mat reading “Wipe Your Paws.”

Morty seemed just as shocked as Green that he was outside. Morty looked at her, then the strangers, then the dogs around him. He paced back and forth on the concrete porch, trying to decide his next move.

In the end, he didn’t join the dogs in their game of keep away in the yard or approach the strangers for the kibble treats they held in their hands. Instead, he chose to sit in the doorway, watching.

•••

Green’s only ever failed at saying goodbye to a foster once: when she adopted Eleanor, her “foster failure.” Still, Morty is her longest-term foster ever. When she took him in December 2023, she thought she would foster him for a month. Then, she extended the foster by two months. Eventually, both Green and the shelter stopped assuming she would bring him back.

“(It’s) hard, because I want to keep him so desperately. But I just don’t... I can’t provide stability. I can’t guarantee the stability long term right now,” she said, noting she might move for work or adopt a “van life” in the future.

Morty’s last potential adopter called in March.

Everyone who knows the Carolina dog has said he’s come a long way since his rescue — much of this progress due to his time with Green.

“That foster mom taught him that being a dog can be a lot of fun,” the Bloomington Animal Shelter wrote on his adoptable pet profile page. “She showed him how to have best dog friends, how to get pets, how to be potty trained and how to love.”

Green thinks each day Morty will grow braver and experience more of the world he didn’t see on North Adams Street. So much has already changed since he left the seizure. He rings a bell to go outside. He loves getting treats, specifically zucchini, frozen berries and pumpkin. Each night, he sits on the couch and snuggles with Green and Eleanor.

He still has a way to go; Green and the shelter know that. But they hope that one day, someone will give him a chance. That someone will look at him and think he’s just a “normal dog.”

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