Sugar & Spice Cheeky

Another winter day of heavy rain. Just trotting up 16th Street from the BART station, my sneakers and the bottom of my jeans get soaked. But I’m glad I braved the elements – I’m the only Maroon level volunteer for the first couple hours, and there are several customers.

Another volunteer points me to a young family who want to visit Cheeky in hallway 1. She’s a sweet little black cat, friendly and playful, and seemingly unencumbered by the injury to her hind legs that gives her an odd lopsided gate.

I will admit to being hesitant when I see the family, a pretty young hippieish woman and two small children, all decked out in colorful rain coats and rubber boots. Kids that young often don’t get cats, and the shelter used to have some rather severe age limits for adoptions. But Maddy’s is working on being more family friendly, and I’m comfortable at least giving it a try.

Turns out the children are delights. More sensitive and better behaved than some of the adult visitors we get. The older girl (whom I learn is "almost five") explains the importance of letting a cat sniff your hand first to me, and even the younger one ("almost two") carefully pets only Cheeky’s back with her delicate little hand.

Cheeky is a bit taken aback with four guests crowded into her condo, but she loses her shyness pretty quickly and rubs around. She has her own special toy, and the older girl whips it around for Cheeky to chase. The little one starts playing with another cat toy herself, and climbing up and down a mini set of steps as though at the playground.

What could have been a dreary day has its moment of charm here, all of us on the floor playing and laughing together, safe and warm inside, the sound of the rain pounding down around us. Cheeky purring as she bats her toy, other visitors smiling as they look in.

The children share the cat toys, the older helps the younger, both of them are calm, quiet, and although reluctant to leave capable of doing so without whining, threats or tantrums. Their day’s adventure winding down, they head back out. Cheeky’s had her adventure too, and looks ready for a nap as I move on to visit another kitty.

Cat Magic Linus

Probably 75 % of the people walking around Maddy’s on a given Friday are not serious potential adopters. Some people just like seeing the cats, others are out of towners brought by friends. A number of people bring small children around, as if the shelter is a free zoo with smaller animals. It seemed strange to me at first, but it’s nice for the kids, a diversion for the adults, and for the most part the cats tolerate these small visitors.

Of those actually interested in taking someone home, there is also a range of behaviors. Many people have done their research on the web already. They have some specific ideas as far as gender, age and coloring, they’ve found several prospects they would like to see. They seem aware they’re going to make a big commitment. They’ll spend hours, maybe over days or even weeks, finding the right match. (The extreme of this sort of style are folks who take so long deciding that they find the cat they choose already gone.)

Others take a more spontaneous approach. In they come, exclaiming oohs and ahs and how they wish they could take them all home, oh look how cute that one is and so on. And then a match is made just minutes later. A charmed visit, where the cat is cautious but sweet, tentatively crawling onto a new lap and purring happily. The people stroke the cat and look at each other and tell each other this is the one.

I wasn’t actually there when Linus got adopted. He started out as a real scaredy cat – it took two visits before he even ventured far enough to let me see how big he is. But he’s a gentle loving lap cat, and very bright. Still, I worried for him. He was older, shy, quite overweight. Meantime a friend at work had casually mentioned wanting to get a cat, but her boyfriend had some allergy issues, they might just take a look at Maddys.

I had not even specifically mentioned my boy Linus. But according to Justine, when they passed his condo, a volunteer was cuddling with him, and they thought he was awfully cute. They went in and had one of those magic bonding sessions. They checked out some more cats just to be sure, but returned to Linus. He’s blossomed at his new home, and it’s wonderful to get regular updates.

You mean it's not all about me and my needs? Jocko

Snark alert. Somebody's feeling a little pre-menstrual...

Ok, question. Just what are you thinking when you bring your dog to the cat shelter?

Granted, it was a little dog. It had a clever little carrying case that looked like an oversized fashionable purse. But the couple accompanying the pooch weren’t using the case, no, they marched straight into corridor 5 and set him on the floor. Where he proceeded to sniff around all tail waggy and excited, while the cat residents looked on with emotions ranging from annoyance to disdain.

Maddy’s tests new kitties for their reactions to various things they might encounter in an adoptive home like kids, other cats, dogs. The majority of cats are ok with dogs, actually, as long as everyone knows who’s boss. But I can pretty much guarantee that not all the cats in the corridor – already a little freaked out from shelter life – were please to see a canine inches from their glass doors.

I interrupted my visit with Jocko to ask them to remove their dog.

The dog love cats, I was informed. In as polite terms as I could manage, I explained that not all the cats return the love. They would be welcome to consult with staff about which cats might do well with their pup, but he wasn’t allowed to tour the facility with them.

Jocko, who had huddled in the back of his condo during all this, quickly forgave them and me when I returned to him. He’s a lanky lovely tabby, a bit shy. Looks like quite the athlete but he was so tentative at batting his toys it was comical. I see him blossoming after he gets comfortable though – definitely a furniture climber.

But back to my question, and it’s a big societal one, really. Have we raised a nation of super-entitled it’s-all-about-me people with our self esteem promotion and grade inflation and prizes for participation? Because that wasn’t even the first pet dog I’ve encountered in the cat wing. And the humans involved seem unable to see past their fingers.

So maybe the degree in Psychology isn’t totally going to waste - Alicia

The perky volunteer coordinator stopped me before I’d even signed in, asking me to show a maroon level cat. (Long story short, the cats are rated by a behaviorist. The old categories of levels 1 through 5 ranking them from most mellow to least mellow was perceived to slight the higher level cats and so were switched to colors, I believe based on the shades of volunteer aprons available. New levels are blue, tan, maroon and green.)

I take in the woman waiting at a glance – she’s probably my age, mid-forties, but looks older. Looks like she’s recovering from being beat up, actually, with a faded bruise under one eye and a missing front tooth, and her expression is somewhat submissive; she’s waited patiently till I arrived for my shift. There are five kitties in the big front condo and I ask which one she has in mind.

She doesn’t know yet, she wants to meet them and see. I would bet money that this woman is not here to adopt, but the cats need a visit, and with more than a pair housed together it’s good to have another person to give attention. This group is all feisty and playful and all under two years old. Barely out of kittenhood in other words, cute and fun. They rove around us, purring and sniffing, and one of them starts batting at the toy I’ve brought before I even move it.

The woman’s a cat person. She sits and pets each one, admiring its special qualities. And she talks, almost non-stop. First about former cats she’s had, then about where she lived when she had them, which had kittens, which ones she gave away and to whom, and where they might be living now. There are references to relatives in Arkansas and to people with drug habits living in 8 story apartments, which I translate to Tenderloin hotels.

I notice she’s got a plastic band on her wrist, and I suppose she’s just gotten out of a hospital. She does not seem so out of it nor down and out that she has nowhere to go. But neither is she in a hurry to go wherever qualifies as home. I listen to her with respect and react appropriately to her stories. She is hungry for such simple attention, the way the cats compete with each other to nudge our hands to keep petting them.

Kiwi, a sweet chubby torbie girl, gets bored with playing and goes back to napping in the sun. Little Alicia, soft and all black, settles down by the woman, blissfully enjoying the stroking and chin rubs.

"This is the one I’d take," the woman says softly, her monologue fading out. "You tell whoever gets her how lucky they are."

Wistful but seeming satisfied with her visit, she leaves the condo and heads back into the winter afternoon.

Ten is the New Seven - Emily

Emily’s been at the shelter for awhile, but I only met her recently. She's upstairs in 7, one of the quieter corridors. The condo card describes her as quite shy, and she has a roommate who is also shy.

It’s a bad match. The roommie is a skittish barely grown 11 month old, who darts away then slinks out purring and rubbing. She’s adorable in the way of the young. Cute but kind of insubstantial.

Emily is 10 years old, firmly into middle age in cat years. She’s a large long hair, while with splotches of orange tabby, and large striking green eyes. She stares balefully from her perch on the climbing structure while I interact with the kitten.

I approach her slowly. She holds my gaze and lets me offer a hand to be sniffed. I can tell she’s smart. Her dignity very much with her, she allows herself to be stroked and her chin gently scratched. After awhile she decides I’m ok, and settles in for some serious petting.

But the kitten climbs her way up, anxious for attention. I reach one hand down to pet her, keeping my focus on Emily. It’s cool till Emily realizes what’s going on, and her ears flatten and she swipes a paw down angrily to send the interloper scuttling away.

Next time I visit, Emily has the place to herself. She warms up quickly, hopping down for pets and even playing for a couple moments. She puts her large head in my hand and stares at me. Get me out of here, don’t you understand? I feel bad leaving her.

Across the aisle visiting the next cat, I can see her watching me. Not pleased.

Shy guy - Galaxy

There are people who like dog-like cats, and there are some wonderful friendly, affectionate outgoing kitties at the shelter just waiting to find a good home. Many happy matches to be made.

January can be slow for volunteers at the shelter. The kittens are nearly gone, lots of adoptions took place over the holidays, and a good number of new people start volunteering. It’s always refreshing to see empty condos, and to know that all the kitties that need their own space can have it instead of doubling up. And it allows us to spend extra time with needier cats, the ones who are having trouble adjusting.

Can you blame them? Dropped off for whatever reason with strangers, trussed around at the medical facility, placed in a scary new room surrounded by strangers, but human and feline. Anyone inclined towards suspicion or shyness will display those characteristics all the more at the SPCA.

I spent extra time with Galaxy in hallway 2. Not sure where the name came from, as he’s charming and down to earth – a sweet shy guy, mostly black with white on his paws and nose, a funny squished looking face set between wide cheeks, and soft soft fur. Bunny soft, angora soft.

He likes being petted, likes it a lot. But he’s very hesitant to leave his place, the top shelf of his climbing structure. I lean over and stroke him there for a bit. Then sit below, just raising up my hand, asking him to come down, see me down here, maybe do some exploring.

It is an excruciatingly slow process. He wants more pets, his eyes are glued to mine, pleading. He puts his paws and head over the side, reaches down halfway and back several times. Head cocked, paws kneading the air, he’s adorable.

Finally, cautiously, one foot at a time, he reaches the lower level, and we are head to head. Kitty ecstasy. Pets, kisses, head butts, a gentle full body massage for him, and the feel of the softest possible fur for me. Compliments on his bravery, and adoring soulful gazes. He even bats a toy around a couple times.

Best of all, he stays down, closer to the door and visible to people walking by, after our visit.

No Contact for Three Years?? - Sooty

A couple ask to see Sooty, a charming 4 year old long hair, all black with a soft wavy undercoat. They strike me as typical San Franciscans of a type – straight liberal anglo baby boomers. Both are tall, the man with white streaks in his longish hair, the woman angular, slim, unmade up. It’s clear they’ve been together for awhile, they have a physical ease with each other as well as comfortable communication. They seem like people I’d be friends with, and I think they would be good pet people.

Sooty started out kind shy, but he’s gotten pretty needy. He’s been at the shelter for over 2 months. He lolls between us, accepting pets all around, moving between the three of us happily. Good "show" behavior; some of the kitties get a little freaked out when several people crowd into their condos.

The man and woman both pet him gently, and he rolls onto his back, paws out, allowing his soft belly to be stroked. They like him. They say they’ve looked at several other cats too, and like them all. I ask my standard questions, have you had cats before, are you looking to adopt. The woman explains that they have a cat a home, and recently lost their second one.

Not an uncommon story. (One of the boxes on the SPCA’s form for why you want to adopt is to get a companion for my cat.) I tell them their cat at home will most likely have a harder adjustment time with getting a new cat. Sooty will be pleased to go home even if there’s already a resident cat.

They exchange a look and a laugh, and explain that their current cat is very friendly and accepting of other animals. But the cat who died was so hostile that they had to keep the two separated. For three years.

I’m trying to even imagine that.

The visit goes well. We chat and Sooty loves every minute of the attention. I catch up with them later in the lobby. They’ve decided to take home Red.

Find a Volunteer Wearing an Apron

I inherited some money after my mother died. It was past time for a break in my job anyway, and this allowed me to afford some time off and then a lighter work schedule. (How lucky one or two people have said. And sure, it’s lucky in the sense of getting some stocks handed down is better than not, but altogether it wasn’t a good trade off. Just as an aside.)

Nonetheless, with free time and a true devotion to cats, I fulfilled a long ambition to become a volunteer at the SF SPCA. http://www.sfspca.org/home.shtml This involved a lengthy training session (hours of slides and lectures before you can even set eyes on an actual animal). Now I’m an official Cat Socializer and Adoption Counselor. Should you visit Maddie’s in search of a cat, you’ll be told to find a volunteer in an apron to assist you.

Three hours a week, I’m there bonding with an amazing variety of wonderful felines, and helping potential adopters make a match. The whole system is impressive and complex. Hundreds of volunteers put in thousands of hours. The facility itself is state of the art, nothing like you’d picture when you think animal shelter.

And the cat volunteers have quite detailed guidelines to follow. We’re to visit each cat condo for a minimum of fifteen minutes, and include cuddle time and some interactive play. We must speak to the cats. We must not pick them up. We should encourage them to eat but certainly never bring them outside food. We’re to calm them down before we depart.

A "behaviorist" works with the cats before they get their condo assignments. She writes up a brief description of traits and personality to go with the more mundane info about age, weight and coloring. Naturally all the descriptions are positive and stress the animals’ best qualities. Anyone who’s been around cats knows they are quirky and vary greatly in their particular preferences and needs.

There are a bunch of peppy sounding adjectives to describe the hyper types – fun-loving, playful, energetic, looking for a home with experienced cat people, etc. The term shy covers a range of skittishness. Extra needy lap cats are cuddly, loving and sweet. There’s also an indication of whether they will likely get along with dogs or other cats. The two choices are "possibly" and "no." Meaning even a calm contented cat sharing the space curled up with her sister will at best maybe get along with another cat. Did I mention the behavior people really know cats well?