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If you've ever visited or adopted an animal from a shelter, you've probably experienced the energy exuded by both the animals and staff. Rows of kennels filled with healthy cats and dogs are ready to browse, and perhaps at the end of your visit, you leave with a new pet.

Unfortunately, most animals don't arrive at the shelter that way. Behind the scenes at the Animal Rescue League of Iowa is the Animal Care and Control Center, a group of five animal control officers, a handful of caregivers and a veterinarian, who rescue abused and neglected animals and nurture them back to health.

The officers spend their day tracking down animals, talking with owners about the importance of proper care, and writing citations for especially harmful offenders. In some cases, they have to rescue starved, beaten or neglected dogs and cats. This is the dirty part of the job. This is the job you don't see at the adoption shelter.

I joined ACCC animal control officer Tina Updegrove for a routine cruise around town on a sweltering Tuesday afternoon. Updegrove worked in Omaha as a field supervisor and chief cruelty investigator for the Nebraska Humane Society for 13 years. She's been an officer with ACCC in Des Moines for two years.

Her neglect cases vary on a daily basis. A couple weeks ago, she rescued a dog who'd been left in a hot car with the windows rolled up while the owners spent the day at the zoo. She's rescued pit bulls injured in dog fights. She even picks up roadkill, most recently a 600 pound sow that fell off the back of a rendering truck. Scooping that off the road took a skid loader and some strong gag control.

After a couple of uneventful stops, we stopped around 3:30 p.m. in front of a house near the Drake neighborhood. With grass as high as my waist, junk all over the front porch and foil-covered windows, the house looked abandoned. From the sidewalk, the smell of dog feces was thick and strong.

Updegrove climbed the steep, slanting stairs to the porch and invited me to follow. I chose to wait out front until she'd checked the back. Moments later she returned, and told me, "This is bad. Real bad."

I followed her to the backyard, a grassless swamp of mud, standing water and filth. Three dogs were locked in a tall, chain-link kennel. They were so skinny we could count their ribs. Each filthy, missing patches of hair.

Updegrove pounded on the back door. This was a repeat offender - the lime green citation she issued months ago still hung on the knob. No answer.

One at a time, we slipped a leash over each dog's neck and lifted them into individual kennels in the back of the truck. Even the biggest dog, a German shepherd, was light enough to lift into the truck. (We later found out the dog weighed only 52 pounds; a healthy adult should weigh 75-85 pounds.)

Depending on the situation, Updegrove can leave a rescued animal in a kennel for up to two hours (a fan blows on the animals to keep them cool). On this day, we head straight back to the Control Center on Southeast 14th Street. We weigh each dog, then give them food and water. It was gratifying to see them eat, but seeing how poorly these animals were treated still turned my stomach.

The silver lining, I suppose, is that there are also people all around us who do care. Who call right away when they see a dog trapped in a locked car with the windows up, or witness an abused animal. Or notice when a dog's water bowl stays empty too long in the heat.

A day with Updegrove reminded me to keep my eyes open, and when I see a similar circumstance, only good things will happen by reporting it.