As the prairie winds deliver another brisk Manitoba autumn, Winnipeg’s pet owners face an increasingly common dilemma that rarely makes headlines: feeding their furry family members while struggling to feed themselves.
At the Winnipeg Humane Society’s modest pet food bank on Logan Avenue, the scene tells the story better than statistics ever could. Jessica Miller, a single mother of two, waits patiently with her border collie mix, Buddy, for her monthly allocation of dog food.
“Two years ago, I never imagined needing help to feed Buddy,” Miller confides, gently stroking her companion’s head. “But between rent increases and grocery prices, something had to give. Buddy’s been with us through everything—he’s family.”
Miller represents a growing demographic the Winnipeg Humane Society has tracked over eighteen months—working families who previously donated to animal causes now finding themselves recipients of pet food assistance.
The society’s pet food bank program has seen demand surge by 37% since January, according to Javier Schwersensky, Executive Director of the Winnipeg Humane Society.
“We’re witnessing the quiet struggle of responsible pet owners who are doing everything possible to keep their animals,” Schwersensky explains, as volunteers sort pallets of donated kibble. “The alternative—surrendering beloved pets due to temporary financial hardship—creates trauma for both families and animals that can be prevented with community support.”
The program now assists over 1,200 Winnipeg households monthly, providing essential supplies that help keep approximately 2,800 pets in their homes rather than shelter kennels.
This trend mirrors broader food insecurity patterns across Manitoba. Harvest Manitoba reported last quarter that first-time food bank usage increased 28% year-over-year, with working families representing the fastest-growing user segment.
City Councillor Jason Schreyer, who represents Elmwood-East Kildonan, has noticed the correlation.
“Pet surrender rates historically rise alongside food bank usage,” Schreyer noted during a community meeting last week. “When we support programs that help Winnipeggers keep their pets during tough times, we’re actually practicing preventative social policy that reduces strain on city animal services down the line.”
The cost-effectiveness argument holds weight. Emergency boarding for surrendered animals costs taxpayers approximately $38 daily per animal, according to provincial estimates—far exceeding the roughly $23 monthly cost to supply a medium-sized dog with basic nutrition through donation-based programs.
Behind the scenes, a network of local businesses has formed to address the need. Bonnie Zacharko, manager of Family Foods on Portage Avenue, established a “round up for pets” program at checkout, raising nearly $6,400 for the Humane Society since summer.
“Our customers get it—they see themselves in their neighbors’ struggles,” Zacharko says. “A few cents rounding up from each person adds up to something meaningful.”
The compassion extends beyond grocery stores. Winnipeg veterinarian Dr. Keri Hudson has organized a coalition of six veterinary clinics offering monthly “wellness clinics” where pet owners receiving food assistance can access basic preventative care at reduced costs.
“We’re seeing conditions that could have been prevented with earlier intervention,” Hudson explains during a break between examining cats at a weekend clinic. “Nutrition-related issues, minor infections that worsened because owners couldn’t afford initial treatment. When we connect these dots, keeping pets fed properly becomes preventative healthcare.”
For many recipients, the assistance represents more than just animal welfare—it’s mental health support. Seventy-four-year-old Walter Tomczyk visits the pet food bank for supplies for his 12-year-old tabby, Chester.
“Since my wife passed, it’s just Chester and me,” Tomczyk says, his voice steady but eyes revealing more. “These folks aren’t just feeding my cat—they’re helping keep my home from feeling empty.”
The Humane Society has adapted its approach based on community feedback. Rather than pre-packaged allocations, the program now operates more like a conventional food bank, allowing clients to select appropriate foods based on their pets’ needs and dietary restrictions.
Lena Robertson, who coordinates the pet food assistance program, emphasizes dignity in their approach.
“People know their pets best. We provide the resources, they make the choices,” Robertson says. “The goal isn’t creating dependency but helping families through rough patches while maintaining the pet relationships that bring stability.”
The Winnipeg model has drawn attention from other prairie cities. Delegations from Regina and Saskatoon have visited to observe the program, which combines centralized distribution with satellite pickup locations at four community centers across Winnipeg.
Despite growing demand, supply challenges remain manageable through community partnerships. Local pet supply retailers contribute near-expiry stock, while larger manufacturers provide bulk donations of slightly damaged goods that would otherwise be discarded.
As winter approaches—typically the highest-demand period—the Humane Society has launched its annual “Fill the Bowl” campaign with a target of securing 28,000 pounds of pet food by December.
For families like the Millers, such initiatives represent the difference between keeping or losing a beloved companion. Jessica’s ten-year-old son Tyler summarizes the impact most clearly.
“Buddy helps me feel brave when things get scary,” he says, arms wrapped around his canine friend. “It’s good people help us keep him home.”
