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| Daniel W. Dylan |
The facts, as set out by the ACRB tribunal, are horrific. Dozens of dogs were found living in conditions described by the tribunal merely as “unsanitary.” Floors were soaked in urine, layers of feces were found around the dwelling, high ammonia levels existed, the dogs were malnourished, parasite-ridden and severely matted with feces and suffered fleas. In the words of the tribunal, “an additional dog was discovered hidden behind a bathtub within a wall cavity and removed.” Many were breeding uncontrollably, which contributed to the scale of costs incurred. Veterinary evidence confirmed the animals were in “distress” (a statutory term contained in Ontario’s animal welfare legislation, the Provincial Animal Welfare Services Act, 2019, S.O. 2019, c. 13 or PAWS Act) and required removal.
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Such an outcome deserves closer scrutiny.
Cost recovery orders under the PAWS Act are not designed to be punitive, but compensatory. Their purpose is to ensure that individuals who create the conditions necessitating state intervention bear responsibility for the resulting costs, rather than shifting that burden to taxpayers. While acknowledging that the situation developed over time and was not an unforeseeable emergency, reducing a six-figure bill to less than 10 per cent of its value undermines that principle.
Financial hardship is, of course, a legitimate consideration. Administrative decision-makers are right to weigh proportionality and fairness. But there is an uncomfortable tension when compassion for an animal “owner” — “caregiver” is the preferred nomenclature, but non-human animals remain property in Ontario — eclipses accountability for conduct that caused prolonged suffering to dozens of dogs and required extraordinary public expenditure. At some point, leniency ceases to be humane and becomes corrosive to deterrence.
More concerning still is what did not happen in this particular case.
Despite multiple welfare calls to police and the scale and severity of the neglect, no charges were laid. As a result, no court has jurisdiction to impose a prohibition on future animal ownership. The individual at the centre of this case is therefore not legally barred from acquiring more animals.
This is not a minor technicality. In Ontario, lifetime or long-term animal ownership bans — arguably the most effective tool for preventing recidivism in serious neglect cases — are available only upon conviction. Administrative seizures, even of dozens of animals, do not trigger them. While Animal Welfare Services inspectors may, in some circumstances, impose temporary compliance conditions through administrative orders, these measures are limited in scope and duration and do not approach the permanence, enforceability or preventive effect of court-ordered animal “ownership” prohibitions available only upon conviction. The system thus creates an apparent paradox: the more vulnerable, indigent or overwhelmed the individual, the less likely meaningful safeguards or sanctions will follow.
The tribunal itself noted that the situation arose from “uncontrolled breeding” and escalated over time. That is precisely the fact pattern that should prompt intervention aimed at prevention, not merely remediation. Without charges, without probation-style oversight, without a prohibition order, there is nothing to stop history from repeating itself — until, once again, Animal Welfare Services is forced to step in at enormous public expense.
This gap reflects a broader structural problem. Ontario has moved much of its animal welfare enforcement into an administrative model that emphasizes flexibility and discretion. That approach has value, particularly in cases where education and support can correct isolated lapses in care. But where neglect is chronic, large-scale and well-documented, administrative remedies alone are insufficient.
The law must be capable of holding two truths at once: that individuals may face genuine personal hardship, including mental health challenges and caregiving responsibilities, and that non-human animals are sentient beings entitled to moral consideration and at least basic standards of care. Compassion for one cannot justify systemic indifference to the other.
Measured accountability is not cruelty. It is prevention.
When no charges are laid, no prohibition order can be made. When cost recovery is largely abandoned, deterrence is weakened. And when the public absorbs nearly all the cost of egregious neglect, confidence in the system erodes.
This case emphasizes the urgent need for a serious conversation about animal welfare law reform, a conversation that many of us have long been advocating for. Ontario may need clearer statutory guidance on when prosecutions are required, stronger presumptions in favour of ownership bans in mass-neglect cases, and more robust mechanisms to ensure that administrative discretion does not unintentionally enable future harm. As I have written elsewhere, a licensing framework for companion animal caregiving or “pet ownership” is a proposal that merits serious consideration. This case also invites reflection on how animal welfare interventions intersect with broader safeguarding concerns when vulnerable human dependents are present in the home, an issue that cannot be explored within this piece.
Animal welfare law, even in its current incarnation, ought to be grounded in the recognition of animals as sentient beings, while still navigating the complex task of reconciling their interests with human interests. That aim is not, however, well served in situations like this one where accountability risks becoming largely symbolic rather than substantive. While the compassion demonstrated by the adjudicator in this case is understandable, it came at the expense of meaningful accountability and, in turn, of sustained protection for the dogs themselves. Equally troubling is the limited attention given to the dogs’ future welfare, which now rests largely on public resources rather than on enforceable legal safeguards.
The dogs in this case were removed and received care, which is to be commended. But unless Ontario’s legal and regulatory framework is strengthened to prevent such mass neglect from recurring, the lesson of this decision is not compassion — it is complacency in the face of systemic failure.
Daniel W. Dylan is an associate professor at the Bora Laskin Faculty of Law, Lakehead University, in Thunder Bay, Ont. He teaches animal law, contract law, evidence law, intellectual property law and Indigenous knowledge governance.
The opinions expressed are those of the author and do not reflect the views of the author’s firm, its clients, Law360 Canada, LexisNexis Canada or any of its or their respective affiliates. This article is for general information purposes and is not intended to be and should not be taken as legal advice.
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