It's a Virtue, Right - Helen

The day before a long weekend, I expect a crowd at the shelter. In keeping with the crowds everywhere else… if you've been downtown this week, you know what I'm talking about. Tourists galore!

Yesterday I saw a young pair almost get hit by a car, a result of their wandering across Kearny Street against the light. They seemed puzzled by the honks and yells; they're on vacation, the normal rules of traffic don't really apply here, do they?

Other drivers just looked resigned, and waited patiently for the intersection to clear. People have big plans for the weekend – a dash out of town, a visit to the big city, an orgy of slow food eating. I'll be okay with some good meals (cooked in the home kitchen) and Lincecum pitching another winner.

Anyway, I'm kept busy at Maddie's. I show the same group of kittens to two different families, and explain the shelter's policies to some out-of-town visitors. Then I spend a good long time with a good hearted but very indecisive man.

He's gone through the whole list of cats on the website and already spent half a day here earlier in the week. He's got specific criteria in his search for cat number two – small, young, shy, and ok with being picked up – and he's written down a long list of possibilities.

We meet seven different kitties, spending awhile with each. He picks them up, examines them up down and sideways, and asks a lot of questions, only some of which I can really answer. I can guess about behavior and make recommendations about introducing new cats, but I don't know much about our kitties' pasts, nor how his cat will feel about them. He's just not sure. (And if he doesn't know his own mind, then I'm afraid I don't know it either.)

I try to be patient, and attentive as he muddles things through. Finally, he heads to the front desk for more input.

I return to little Helen, one of the two who did not make the (er somewhat) short list. She's a young and pretty calico, but she's got a very difficult disposition. Something has spooked her badly.

She'll act friendly toward people in the hallway, but when someone actually enters her space she hisses and retreats. She doesn't sniff fingers like a normal cat, or exhibit much curiosity. Rather she crouches in her hiding spot, not making eye contact, looking annoyed.

Not surprisingly, she's been at the shelter awhile. It'll take a very quiet and persevering person to finally draw her out. I sit and talk to her for a bit. Then dangle a toy for her – darting out to bite the end of the toy is the only reaction I've drawn from her so far.

Today, though, Helen surprises me. She gets so into the toy that she leaves her hiding spot and trots across the room pursuing it. Then sits – not hidden! – and puts up with me talking to her. She still won't accept petting, but neither does she swat at my hand. Like many others – she just needs lots of extra patience.