Kennel space at the shelter was beyond tight, as was money for treating sick animals. But seeing those dark eyes, the county's lead veterinarian agreed to nurse the 9-week-olds back to health. Someone almost certainly would adopt them.

With care, they recovered and were spayed and prepped for a temporary foster home. But after surgery, Livadas saw something else troubling and changed her mind.

Until that moment, Livadas had been confident and proud that her shelter had escaped a new scourge sweeping the country: dog flu, a highly contagious disease that can be a quick killer without swift treatment.

The dogs never had names, just numbers: A1249216 and A1249217. Despite their anonymity, their arrival and sudden dispatch were emotional markers of an unprecedented outbreak at the county pound.

Hoping to contain the spread of dog flu in Palm Beach County, animal control staff in July suspended dog adoptions, then killed and incinerated 529 dogs — 172 more than the shelter's average monthly rate.

Fifty-six of those dogs were put down because they either had the flu or were exposed to it. Others were killed simply because there was no room to keep them alive.

Once seemingly limited to racing kennels and tracks, dog flu now is spreading across the country, putting 50 million to 70 million dogs at risk, most of them family pets. To date, the flu has raced through 22 states and 21 of Florida's 67 counties.

The county shelter's operators knew of only one other U.S. shelter — in Cheyenne, Wyo. — that had taken such drastic measures to contain dog flu. There, 41 dogs were destroyed to stop the epidemic, far fewer than July's toll at the Palm Beach County facility.

The decision tormented workers at the shelter on Belvedere Road, but there seemed to be no other option. The county shelter's primary role is to protect public safety by taking aggressive and possibly rabid animals off the streets. That role could not be suspended when adoptions were halted.

By July 22, the clinic appeared to be flu-free, and adoptions resumed from one of its kennels. Palm Beach County Administrator Bob Weisman commended shelter Director Dianne Sauve for a job well done.

Though the outbreak was contained, the dog killings in Palm Beach County touched off a nationwide debate about how shelters should handle a hugely contagious disease that, for now, has no diagnostic test and no vaccine.

For years, greyhound owners coped with an unidentifiable respiratory illness simply labeled kennel cough. They found that antibiotics, fluids and close monitoring could keep the flu-related pneumonia from killing dogs.

It wasn't until October that the illness even had a name. The journal Science published the first report of influenza in dogs, overturning a common belief that dogs couldn't get the flu. The new strain was called canine influenza Florida '04 (H3N8), because of where and when it was discovered — in racing greyhounds from Jacksonville. In that 2004 outbreak, eight of 22 infected dogs died.

By late 2005, further testing found dog flu at racetracks all over the United States. Among them was the Palm Beach Kennel Club, 5 miles from the county shelter.

County veterinarian Livadas said she opted for euthanasia because she saw no other solution. Adoptions had to be halted to keep the flu from spreading across the county. But the shelter couldn't stop taking in dogs. With limited space, that meant healthy, adoptable dogs would have to be sacrificed.

On June 27, Livadas sent the ailing puppies' blood samples to Dr. Cynda Crawford's laboratory at the University of Florida's College of Veterinary Medicine. Three days later, the results came back.

The positive tests threw Palm Beach County Animal Care & Control into crisis. Livadas, Sauve and the rest of the senior shelter staff met late into that Friday evening, wrestling with how to contain the outbreak and writing a press release to warn pet owners.

A few miles away, unknown to Livadas or almost anyone else, the Peggy Adams Animal Rescue League also had sick dogs. It just didn't tell anyone and took an entirely different tack from the county shelter.

During the summer, he estimated, Peggy Adams had about 100 dog flu cases. It was the shelter's third such outbreak. During the winter, about 80 dogs had been sick with dog flu. Tests performed at Cornell University had proved it, but those tests weren't released.

At the county shelter, Livadas called Dr. Crawford in Gainesville, and they discussed options other animal shelters had taken. The Jacksonville Humane Society coped by putting out a call to dog lovers in the community. It found foster families willing to care for the sick dogs until they recovered.

Crawford mentioned another Florida shelter's approach. It had isolated sick dogs but kept the seemingly healthy dogs up for adoption. The result was that some new owners found themselves saddled with sick pets.

Shelters that had ample room just kept a separate kennel for sick animals and dedicated staff exclusively to their care. Palm Beach County had no such luxury.

Crawford also mentioned Cheyenne, which took the most aggressive and controversial approach: It euthanized all 41 of its sick and exposed dogs, despite a public outcry. Vets in the Cheyenne area had asked the shelter to take that route. But animal lovers called for the director's resignation.

Livadas and Sauve concluded that despite likely public distress, following Cheyenne's lead would be best. The county shelter already was too crowded and understaffed to handle an epidemic, they said.

Built in 1992, it was designed to handle at most 17,000 animals a year. Today, with the county's dog population estimated at 282,000, more than 26,000 unwanted pets and strays are unloaded at the complex each year.

Part of the problem is that infected dogs spread the virus for two to five days before they actually cough — and most will continue coughing for up to a month. Most ominous for kennel and shelter operators, one in five infected dogs will be contagious yet never show symptoms.

Those facts meant that culling only coughing dogs would do nothing to end the outbreak, Livadas said. There were more meetings between Livadas and Sauve. The two agreed that euthanizing all exposed dogs and then disinfecting the kennels would be the best strategy.

Besides its intake areas, the Palm Beach County animal control complex has three separate sections: Kennel 1, where the adoptable dogs are kept; Kennel 2, where the strays go; and Kennel 3, the rabies quarantine area, where unvaccinated biters are isolated.

Before the vet techs began their grim work, Sauve said she walked into the kennel and looked each doomed dog in the eyes. Livadas, soft-spoken in normal times, had little to say.

Leveridge, the executive director, said they put the sick animals on the second floor of their flying-saucer-shaped building, isolating them from other animals. Because it has a separate entrance for staff, there's no risk of workers infecting healthy animals, Leveridge said.

Meanwhile, the well-funded rescue league spent between $300 and $400 to treat each sick dog with antibiotics and fluids, Leveridge said. Back in January, dogs were even given Tamiflu — the drug used globally to prevent the spread of bird flu in humans.

The county and private shelters' differing missions, building designs and financial situations mean that Leveridge and Sauve intend to handle their next flu outbreak in very different ways. Both believe they've done the right thing so far.

For the next outbreak, Cheyenne shelter Director Alan Cohen said he has found donated warehouse space that he'll use to keep exposed animals isolated rather than killing them.

For one, she thinks the county's animal control director should have the authority to impose quarantines on private shelters, racetracks or anyplace else that has an outbreak.

Meanwhile, county commissioners have approved planning money for an expansion of the county shelter. But adding quarantine kennels for each day's intake of dogs and cats may prove too costly, Sauve said.

This is cache, read story here