Dalmatian lover gives 101 percent of his time

Karen Zekan

Friday, May 8, 1998 | 10:02 a.m.

MENIFEE, CALIF. -- Randy Warner is the first to admit how idiotic it is that he lives with 27 Dalmatians.

They sleep together, eat together, watch TV together. They follow him like the Pied Piper through the tiny house they share in the country near Riverside.

Since his van broke down months ago, they've been apart just twice a week -- the two days when Warner steals a few minutes to squeeze through the pack, out the door and scoot down the driveway to the wooden polka-dot dog on the mailbox, checking for letters.

At 44, Warner's every waking moment is consumed by this speckled breed. They're the reason he left a high-paying career in computer programming years ago to run his Dalmatian ResQ effort full-time finding good dogs good adoptive homes.

Call it noble. Call it lunacy.

But before you put any label on this man, consider that an estimated 12,000 Dalmatians last year alone wound up in pounds across the country. Many of them had owners who tried to beat their hyperactivity out of them.

Still more had their births timed by money-hungry breeders to coincide with Disney's 1996 live-action "101 Dalmatians." They wound up in homes across America as cute little playthings for kids, only to end up today adult dogs starving for attention in a world that often doesn't understand them and all too quickly puts them to death.

In Warner's mind, it's a situation that has to end -- for every breed, everywhere.

"It's a situation humans created, and humans, ultimately must be held accountable for."

As if his word isn't enough, he's bringing three of his own Dalmatians and 10 others he's currently sheltering to the festival area north of the Silver Bowl Stadium on Saturday to support this weekend's Pet Adopt-A-Thon.

As part of National Pet Week, about 80-100 dogs and cats from Dewey Animal Care Center, Henderson Animal Shelter and the Nevada Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals will be up for adoption. All will be bathed, groomed, vaccinated, spayed or neutered, and available for as little as $13 -- almost four times less than average shelter adoption fees.

Out of respect for local shelter dogs' needs, none of Warner's Dalmatians will be available for adoption Saturday. (Private arrangements can be made to meet his dogs by calling 364-2617.)

"Every year, 27 million dogs are being put to sleep and it doesn't have to be that way," said Warner, who got a ride to Las Vegas courtesy of Saturn of West Sahara Wednesday morning.

And it was no easy feat by any stretch of the imagination.

With a SUN reporter along for the ride, driver Dominick Gaudio made the four-hour trek south to Warner's tiny house in Menifee, a ways off Interstate 215 amidst seemingly endless miles of bright blooming mustard.

The van was backed to the front door and in a flash was filled with a frenzied pack of barking dogs, their leashes on, leaping over seat backs in a race to get a window seat.

It was a moment Warner had been stressing over longer than a week. The ride proved ecstatic -- the dogs dozed and calmly watched out the window, Warner got to leave the house for the first time in months, and within four hours all dogs were safely stowed away at host Anne Herrington's back yard. Herrington's group, Media Partners for Pets, is sponsoring the Adopt-A-Thon, along with Veterinary Centers of America.

But challenge isn't new to Warner.

Framed newspaper articles alongside Dalmatian themed prints, candles and other odds and ends recall the day he appeared on David Letterman's show, bringing New Yorkers to a standstill at noon as he walked 50 Dalmatians from the pound down Fifth Avenue. The spectacle got 31 of them adopted.

There's also the accounts of the four times he was thrown in jail for keeping too many animals in his apartments.

And then there are the first-place trophies for the St. Patrick's Day parades, won by 45 of his green-spotted dogs.

The walls also hold the anger that sends Warner into a rage each time he mentions the callous, stupid, shallow excuses he gets from people who adopt dogs "because they're cute" and ditch them at the pound two months later.

Or the people who call him up claiming to want a playmate for their Dalmatian, only to request an unspayed female and admit they're trying to breed dogs for money. Dalmatians can sell for up to $1,000.

Megan calms his nerves. Nudging up for some love on the van's seat, the 9-year-old Dalmatian rests her head in his lap and he strokes her ears, near the spot where a previous owner crushed her skull with a metal pipe.

"People say dogs don't have emotions," Warner said. "You're stupid if you don't think they have emotions. People say they are taught everything. No, they are not.

"When you go to the dog pound and you look at all these eyes, all of these dogs, and you know that their sense of smell is so strong, you know damn well that they can smell death in that building right there where they euthanize dogs. You know they know they are waiting in line."

And that's what makes that bond at the pound so intense -- the dog's tail wagging, the licks, sometimes even peeing in excitement -- "they know you're saving them from death and they appreciate it.

"I can see 'Thank you, Daddy!' in every one of these faces and that makes me feel good," he said, looking around in the van at his dogs, some nuzzled together on the seats, others sleeping on the floor, and a few taking in the desert scenery along I-15.

As joyous as adopting a dog can be, though, it's not a situation he's asking just anyone to try.

He'll never adopt any of his dogs to anyone under 26 -- "statistics show that 65 percent of all dogs will suffer at least one severe beating in their lives, and 99 percent of those beatings are by single males under the age of 26," he explains.

The majority of those dogs survive the beatings, but they are the faces that end up in pounds and often severely traumatized.

"When you take a dog, you're making a commitment for 15 years. If you're 21 or 22, you are not qualified for a dog. I don't care how many dogs you've had. Experience does not equate to success. Don't adopt a dog until you've settled into your life, you know where you are going, you own your own home, you've got a steady job.

"You can't just all of a sudden decide six months after you adopt a dog to become a flight attendant in Anchorage or join the FBI. That's not a lifestyle for a dog."

And a dog living alone isn't fair either, he said.

"When you're gone at work 8-10 hours a day, you come home exhausted, that dog is there and that dog lives for you. They've been waiting all day long and when you walk in they want to play and you're exhausted. That won't happen if there was another dog at home to play with. Two dogs is literally half the trouble of one."

Donations fund Dalmatian ResQ, along with money Warner makes through California Canine College, his obedience training program for aggressive dogs.

He barely gets by on what money comes in. He just paid March's rent last week, and still has $700 left to pay on vet surgeries from the past two weeks.

"My goal in life is to go to my grave knowing that I did much more than my own personal responsibility to assure myself that we're not still killing 27 million dogs a year when I die."

Donations can be made to Dalmatian ResQ at 27540 Keller Road, Sun City, CA 92584, or directly to Randy Warner's account with veterinarian H.R. Park, who cares for all of his dogs at Sunnymead Vet Clinic, 24588 Sunnymead Blvd., Moreno Valley, CA. 92553