Family wants its dog spared

Death sentence surprised owners

RALEIGH -- Inside Wake County's animal shelter, a 40-pound boxer named Honey awaits a possible canine death sentence.

Two victims reported bites. A third broke his wrist jumping out of Honey's way.

Putting the dog down without its family's consent is a rare step, but by Wake County law, Honey is dangerous enough to kill.

"This is not personal for us," said Michael Williams, Wake's animal control director. "I've been here two years, and this has never happened. We're doing what we feel is best for citizens in the county."

An appeal is pending, which could spare Honey. Still, her family says the dog's fate is not only unjust, but a surprise.

The family had no idea the dog had been declared dangerous, nor had the family even met one of the bite victims, owner Connie Inggs said.

The first news that Honey's fate was so grim, she said, came in a telephone call from the Department of Animal Control, which said Honey would soon be euthanized.

"No one's said anything," she said. "No explanation. Just two strikes and we kill the dog."

Nearly every state has a death penalty for dogs, triggered by a second or third offense, said William Reppy, a Duke University law professor who teaches an animal law course.

Often, families with biting dogs choose to put their pets down for public safety's sake.

Counties have the authority to step in. By Wake County law, a dog can be declared dangerous after the first biting offense, and its owner can be required to build a secure, enclosed space marked with a sign.

If a dangerous dog attacks a second time, or if the owner fails to build a safe space as required, the county may kill the dog. By the county's definition, attacks can include approaching someone in a vicious or threatening way, even without a bite.

"I have cases where the dogs haven't even bitten anybody," said Calley Gerber, a Raleigh lawyer who specializes in animal law.

The Inggs family has approached Gerber about Honey, she said, and it isn't clear whether the boxer was ever officially declared dangerous.

Differing accounts

What is clear is that the family's account and animal control's records do not jibe.

The Inggs family has moved to Charlotte and lives in North Raleigh occasionally while trying to sell a house on Swans Mill Crossing.

Honey ran inside an electric fence at the residence, but Inggs said the dog got past it while not wearing a collar.

The trouble started in August when a neighbor, Rajat Chander, reported that he broke his wrist after the dog ran at him and he jumped away to avoid it.

Williams said that case was the first trigger and that Honey was declared dangerous in August. But animal control's records show that the Inggses were cited only for a dog running loose, not for a dog being potentially dangerous.

Another victim reported being bitten in August, but Williams said that victim did not file a report. She will be called as a corroborating witness in Chander's case when an appeal is heard, Williams said.

The Inggses were successfully sued by the second victim, whose name was not available, and are waiting to appeal the case.

Then in December, jogger Christin Perkins reported running past the Inggses' house and getting knocked over and bitten on the arms and legs, records said.

But in some county records, the victim's wounds are noted only as bruises that didn't break the skin because of her heavy clothing. In other places, they are noted as skin breaks.

The Inggses remain confused, and they have never met Perkins. Connie Inggs got a call from animal control while she was in Charlotte, instructing her to take Honey to Wake's shelter.

She did so, thinking her dog would stay there just a few days. But soon afterward, she got another call saying the dog would have to be killed.

The county doesn't even have to hear an appeal, Williams said, though it will.

Inggs family members never contacted Wake officials about scheduling the appeal, he said, and they didn't respond to numerous messages.

But, he said, "We will not put their dog down until this is heard."

The Inggs family, and their two other dogs, wait with crossed fingers and paws.