In a city that prides itself on being progressive and compassionate, the Vancouver Animal Shelter (VAS) has found itself at the centre of a growing controversy—not because of how it treats the animals in its care, but because of how little the public knows they exist.
“It just makes sense to share the dogs regularly and widely on a dedicated social media page and get them adopted,” says Erin Ireland, a well-known vegan influencer, animal rights advocate and owner of Vancouver’s To Live For Bakery. “When I first started volunteering at VAS, my goal wasn’t just to walk dogs. I wanted to capture their personalities, tell their stories and help them find homes through social media. But I was given many restrictions that made it really hard.”
VAS, located in East Vancouver, is where stray dogs—and sometimes pets, including smaller animals like guinea pigs, rabbits and rats, of owners who find themselves unable to care for them—end up. Yet despite a caring team of staff and volunteers, animals have been known to languish in the shelter for months, sometimes over a year, without much visibility to potential adopters. Unlike nearly every other municipal shelter in Metro Vancouver, VAS does not have its own social media accounts. The reason? The City of Vancouver’s centralized social media policy.
“When I tell people I volunteer at the Vancouver Animal Shelter, most assume I mean the SPCA,” says Rhianydd Bellis, a VAS volunteer who has professional experience with animal welfare issues. “The SPCA has excellent marketing. VAS has none. People don’t know we exist, and more importantly, they don’t know the dogs exist.”
Bellis has spent months advocating for change. She and a group of dedicated volunteers met with city officials in May to push for a dedicated Facebook and Instagram account for VAS—something she says staff at the shelter have quietly wanted for over 15 years. But what they were met with was stonewalling, silencing and, ultimately, a hard “no.”
“They wouldn’t answer questions. They told us social media was off the table within the first minute of the meeting,” says Kristl Daniels, another VAS volunteer who attended the May 21 meeting. “That ‘no’ isn’t just about policy. It’s about stripping a dog of the chance to be seen, and ultimately, adopted.”
Dogs like Scooby.
“Scooby came in after being tied to a tree and abandoned,” Bellis recalls. “He started to deteriorate. He became anxious, stressed and eventually refused to return to his kennel. Volunteers had to pass him around like a makeshift foster system to keep him from being euthanized. It wasn’t until someone saw him on social media—not the city website—that he was adopted.”
The City of Vancouver has stated that social media is an “ineffective” way to communicate with the public, a comment made on record by City Manager Paul Mochrie on April 16. Yet this contradicts what volunteers, adopters and experts know to be true. In fact, when the city did post a photo of a dog named Remy to its main Facebook page in April, the post went viral—prompting not only adoption inquiries, but a flood of comments asking why the city didn’t have a dedicated shelter account. Shortly after, the city paused the posts altogether.
“There’s a real fear of brand dilution,” says Ireland. “But what about the dogs? What about their lives? What harm could come from a separate Instagram account to help them get adopted? People love cute dogs. It’s not complicated.”
Meghan Forhan, a criminal defence lawyer and principal at Pender Litigation, attended the same May meeting. “The lack of transparency in the meeting was concerning. No one could or would explain who made the decision to deny VAS its own social media presence.”
Forhan says some volunteers are now considering legal action. “Right now, we’re still in the information-gathering stage, but the lack of process is deeply concerning. The public has a right to know why animals are being kept in the dark.”
Even City Councillor Pete Fry, whose own dog Ruby was adopted from VAS after nine months in the shelter (sadly, Ruby recently passed away), agrees change is overdue. “It’s about fantastic dogs who are languishing in doggie jail,” Fry told Global News. “They don’t thrive in the pound.”
Meanwhile, passionate voices continue to rise. Emails from volunteers, adopters and concerned citizens, and even a letter of support from a respected rescue organization that regularly takes dogs off the shelter’s hands, have flooded council inboxes. A public campaign is underway. And still, the dogs wait.
“No dog thrives in a shelter,” Daniels says. “They thrive in homes, with people, with routine. This isn’t just about social media. It’s about doing what’s right. Lives depend on it.”
Until policy changes, volunteers like Ireland, Bellis, Daniels and so many others will keep fighting. Fighting for visibility. Fighting for transparency. Fighting for the chance for every dog to be seen—and saved.
“The city has committed to twice monthly posts about adoptable dogs at VAS, and we have requested these be carousels showcasing a number of animals looking for homes,” says Ireland, adding that, while the dedicated VAS social channels she’s pushing for would make a far greater impact, the animals will, at least and in the meantime, have some visibility on @cityofvancouver. “Support the city’s posts, comment under them, share them. And speak up. These animals deserve to be known. They deserve a voice.”
Because in the shelter system, visibility isn’t just about going viral. It’s about going home. —Noa Nichol
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August 18th, 2025 at 7:07 pm
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August 19th, 2025 at 6:00 am
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