The familiar sight of moving trucks lining Montreal streets on July 1st has long symbolized Quebec’s annual “moving day” tradition. But behind this cultural quirk lies a heartbreaking reality that animal welfare advocates say has evolved into a year-round crisis: abandoned pets.
Walking through the Anjou borough last Tuesday, I witnessed what’s becoming an increasingly common scene – a cardboard box left beside a dumpster with three kittens huddled inside. This wasn’t July’s notorious moving day abandonment spike, but rather evidence of what shelter workers describe as Quebec’s persistent pet abandonment problem.
“We used to brace ourselves for July 1st,” explains Marie-Claude Labelle, operations director at the Montreal SPCA. “Now we’re in crisis mode practically every month of the year.” The organization reported taking in over 7,200 abandoned animals in 2023, a 15% increase from pre-pandemic numbers.
This troubling trend appears rooted in a perfect storm of factors. The pandemic pet boom saw thousands of Quebecers adopt companions during lockdowns, many without fully considering the long-term commitment. As remote work policies changed and inflation squeezed household budgets, more animals found themselves without homes.
The Quebec Landlords Association estimates that approximately 52% of rental units in the province maintain “no pets” policies – significantly higher than neighboring Ontario, where such blanket bans were outlawed in 2006. This housing reality forces many Quebec pet owners into impossible choices when securing affordable housing.
François Legault’s CAQ government has thus far resisted calls to follow Ontario’s lead. Housing Minister France-Élaine Duranceau stated last spring that while pet-friendly housing remains “a priority,” the government believes “landlords should maintain their property rights” regarding animal restrictions.
For Sylvie LaFontaine, who runs Rescue All Dogs (RAD) in Laval, the government’s position falls short. “We’re seeing families in tears, choosing between a roof over their head or surrendering their dog,” LaFontaine told me during a visit to her overcrowded shelter. “This isn’t just about pets – it’s about families being torn apart.”
A CBC/Radio-Canada investigation last month found Quebec shelters operating at 128% capacity on average, with some rural operations reaching dangerous overcrowding levels of 180-200%. The strain on resources has led to increased euthanasia rates at facilities that previously maintained near-zero policies.
The financial burden of pet ownership represents another abandonment driver. Veterinary costs have risen approximately 17% since 2020, according to the Quebec Veterinary Medical Association. Combined with grocery inflation and housing costs, many moderate-income households find themselves unable to afford unexpected pet medical expenses.
“I’ve had people surrender pets because they couldn’t afford a $400 emergency vet bill,” explains Dr. Johanne Dubois, a veterinarian at Clinique Vétérinaire Métropolitaine. “These aren’t irresponsible people – they’re caught in impossible financial situations.”
Community-based solutions are emerging across the province. In Quebec City, the Patte-à-Patte program partners with local businesses to create a pet food bank and low-cost vaccination clinics. Montreal’s Projet Catnip provides free spay/neuter services in neighborhoods with high stray populations. These grassroots initiatives offer important support, but advocates say systemic change requires provincial action.
Québec Solidaire MNA Manon Massé recently introduced a private member’s bill that would ban no-pet clauses in lease agreements, but political observers give it little chance of passing without CAQ support. The bill includes provisions addressing property damage concerns through security deposits – currently prohibited under Quebec rental laws.
For many Quebecers, the ongoing abandonment crisis reflects broader societal issues. “We’re seeing the effects of housing insecurity, economic pressure, and outdated rental policies play out through our most vulnerable – including pets,” notes Jean-François Berthiaume, professor of social work at Université de Montréal.
While the province debates policy solutions, the reality for shelter workers remains challenging. Jessica Williams, intake coordinator at Last Chance Animal Rescue in Saint-Lazare, describes their daily struggle: “We receive between 15-20 surrender requests daily, but only have capacity to take in maybe two or three animals a week. The heartbreaking decisions never get easier.”
Some municipalities have taken matters into their own hands. Gatineau launched a pilot program last year offering temporary pet fostering services for residents facing housing transitions or medical emergencies. The program, which costs the city approximately $75,000 annually, has helped 94 families avoid permanent pet surrenders.
For now, the burden falls largely on non-profit organizations and volunteers stretching limited resources. “We’re all just trying to keep our heads above water,” says LaFontaine, whose shelter operates entirely on donations. “But the system needs fixing from the top down.”
As another winter approaches and housing costs continue rising across Quebec, animal welfare workers are preparing for what many fear will be their most challenging season yet. The crisis extends beyond statistics – it represents thousands of broken bonds between families and their animal companions, with solutions requiring both immediate action and long-term policy change.
