May I Help You? - Big Boy

Last night my workplace held its annual fundraiser. Very successful event: well attended, with short speeches and high bidding on the auction items, and only a mild sense of dissonance as a gathering of people supporting legal aid schmoozed over wine and laid down cash for high end restaurant meals and boutique or other expensive sorts of things.

These events are hard work for the staff though. Lots of preparation, and then the pressure of being the customer service people as 200 plus attendees arrive and register. Minor glitch when the guest elected official showed up and wasn’t recognized (to be fair, he was a last minute substitution and his handler steered him to the wrong end of the alphabet of name tags). But he was cool about it. I like a politician with at least a dose of humility.

And I think everyone should give service work a try at some point in their lives – gives you a sympathetic understanding to people just doing their jobs.

So today, with a bit of a post event headache, I hope for a quiet shelter day. No such luck for me, but happily for the cats there are a bunch of serious adopters. My customer service role here is easy and familiar at least. And humbling to boot – whatever accomplishments I may claim elsewhere, at Maddie’s I’m a cheerful woman in a dorky apron ready to show the cats.

Among several people checking out the kittens are a couple who are around my age. They’re specifically looking for a black and white kitten, having recently lost an 18 year old, and we bond talking about those special cheerful kitties. As we talk, one of them picks up and holds a darling little Siamese mix, who proceeds to curl up and sleep right there in her cupped hand. Very cute, but they still want a black and white.

I suggest that they can always come back again if they don’t find the right kitten today, since we’ll have lots of them all summer. She explains that they’re school principals on vacation so they want to have the free time to spend with the new cat. Both women are in jeans and t-shirts, and I’m amused thinking that they must feel refreshingly anonymous here, away from school and all its demands on their roles.

Of course all this all kind of pales when you think about the cats here. Former pets, most of them, emperors of a household turned please-adopt-me beggars on display in little glass doored rooms. It’s the ultimate of humbling experiences for many of these dignified creatures.

Which brings me to Big Boy. His name says it all – he’s a large regal tabby with a big voice and a bigger attitude. A so called Band Leader, feisty and demanding, he’s like a CEO somehow landed in a homeless shelter, and he’s telling everyone who passes it’s a mistake and he needs to get out.

I show him to a couple friends who probably won’t adopt but feel compelled to meet him. He shows great, rubbing amongst us equally, with purrs, head butts, even paws up on shoulders as we sit attending to his meows. I’m not worried about him, someone will take him home soon. And he can put this sad episode behind him and go back to his proper place adored by all and ruling the roost.