By age 28, Meg Gordon was an accomplished geochemist and had already made three separate treks to Antarctica to study climate change.  

The Princeton graduate loved unraveling the complex equations that underwrote melting ice caps and permafrost, but the work also had its drawbacks.  

Life on the southern frontier got lonely, and Gordon was ready to settle down and establish a permanent home for herself, complete with plenty of furry friends. 

“I hated leaving my dog,” she said. “Honestly, that was one of the hardest parts.”     

She relayed her internal struggle to her friend one day as the pair walked their dogs. 

“You should go to vet school,” the friend replied. “All you ever do is talk about your dog anyway.”  

Gordon suspected her friend was half-joking, but the comment piqued her interest. 

“It was a great serendipitous moment,” she said. “I just kept thinking, yeah, I probably should just go to vet school.” 

Nearly two decades later, Gordon has treated tens of thousands of animals for a plethora of ailments. Many of her patients were strays taken in by the Flathead County Animal Shelter. 

Gordon started working at the shelter in 2013 as part of a contract between the county and the Animal Clinic of Kalispell. She drove to the facility every Tuesday and Thursday morning, where a list of the day’s surgeries awaited her.  

There were usually five to 15 operations on the schedule, most of them simple spay and neuter procedures, but Gordon also set bones, pulled rotten teeth and removed tumors, all from the discomfort of a trailer installed behind the main building. 

There was no running water or electricity in the trailer, and Gordon recalled shivering through wintertime surgeries in a heavy coat and gloves. In the summer, her instruments became slick with sweat. 

Conditions inside the facility were also far from ideal. The shelter had made great strides from its early days at the Flathead County Landfill, when euthanasias often outnumbered live adoptions. By 2008, when the Flathead City-County Health Department assumed oversight, euthanasia rates had dropped to 8.8% for dogs and 17.8% for cats, but Gordon still thought the shelter could do better. 

Close quarters made it difficult to contain infectious diseases and heightened anxiety for many of the animals, which Gordon said caused poor outcomes and lowered adoption rates. Most families aren’t willing to take on a sick dog, she pointed out. 

Gordon taught staff and volunteers how to use preventative treatments like diet and exercise and worked with the shelter director to map out a new layout for the facility. A clinic was added, with running water and electricity, and new dog cages were installed with doors that led to outside areas. New isolation wings allowed staff to separate sick animals from healthy ones. A larger viewing area made it more comfortable for visitors to meet and interact with cats that were up for adoption. 

The changes worked.  

A few months after Gordon arrived, the shelter achieved a live release rate of 97%, qualifying it as a “no kill” facility for the first time. The facility has maintained that status ever since, with the most recent public data showing a live release rate of 99.83% in 2023. 

Animals also started spending less time in the shelter, with the average stay for a cat decreasing from 31.5 days in 2013 to 15.6 days in 2023. The average stay for dogs decreased from 13.2 days to 11.9 days during the same time frame. 

Today, the shelter only euthanizes animals that are either too sick or too aggressive to be rehabilitated. Gordon said that policy is a refreshing break from private practice, where constraints like bills and owner preferences often dictate an animal’s treatment plan. Most of the 1,400 animals she treated at the shelter each year required only a few basic interventions, like sterilization procedures and vaccinations, but Gordon estimated she saw five to 10 “extreme cases” each year. 

One of the worst injuries, Gordon recalled, was a rottweiler that had been dragged behind a pickup truck. The dog lay on the hot pavement for hours before being brought to Flathead County Animal Shelter.  

“I remember looking at her the day she came in and thinking, I don’t even know where to start,” said Gordon. “There you are with whatever tools you have available to you with a problem to solve.” 

Gordon cleaned the dog’s wounds and performed a series of skin grafts. It was an intensive procedure with a long recovery time, and the extent of the dog’s injuries meant success was far from guaranteed. Under Gordon’s guidance, the rottweiler made a full recovery and was adopted by a local family.  

More recently, the shelter received a pit bull with several tumors and a heartworm infection. That dog, aptly named Gordon by shelter staff, ended up finding a permanent home with Gordon and her husband. 

The pit bull, whom Gordon affectionately calls “Fat Head of the Flathead,” will be a welcome reminder of the years Gordon spent tending to animals at the Flathead County Animal Shelter as she moves on to a new chapter in her veterinary career.  

Gordon assumed co-ownership of Calm Animal Care in June 2025. She said the new position required her to spend more time at the Kila-based clinic and that the shelter’s intensive surgery schedule was also beginning to take a toll on the joints in her hands. 

Gordon worked her last shift at the facility on Dec. 30, 2025. Over the course of 12 years at the shelter, she treated upwards of 18,000 dogs and cats. 

“I went through a lot of changes with the shelter, and I helped with those changes, and I think having someone new come in with new ideas can be a good thing,” she said. “I’m glad I was here. I’m glad I helped.” 

Reporter Hailey Smalley can be reached at 758-4433 or [email protected].