Adapting to Change - Otis

First of all, about the San Francisco Chronicle. My family took both Washington, DC papers when I was growing up. I’ve read the Chronicle regularly for decades, albeit supplemented by NPR for more serious news. But I commute on BART. I read the paper. I loved Herb Caen, even slogging through those all-the-people-I-know-in-Paris columns.

And newspapers, a reliable, factually accurate free press – hey, cornerstone of our democracy, you know? But, yes, things change, the medium has evolved. I’d say the Chron does not need a new printing press so much as a trimming of upper management and a greater focus on online delivery. Hate the union busting, but acknowledge the lessor need for truck drivers. And digging deeper, a bunch of those things Obama keeps harping on – like reining in exorbitant health care costs, getting banks loaning again – they’re part of the picture too. Despite the freakshow of sfgate commenters, there are a lot of people pulling for the paper.

Anyway, at least it’s a good day at the shelter. Two big sweet black and white kitties housed across from each other in hallway 5 get adopted within minutes of each other – Vinnie headed home with a doting pair of guys in a red mini cooper, and Moochi joining a trio of hip young roommates.

I hang out with pretty little Otis for awhile. He’s an adorable five year old orange tabby, with a sweet expression and soulful eyes. He’s very shy, and as usual it takes a few minutes of gentle talk before he’ll even venture out of his hiding spot. Today he’s braver (or maybe just hungry), and he slithers out for some kibble. Then he ventures onto my lap, purring softly and flexing his claws. It’s slow going, but the little dude is getting used to his situation here.

A staffer mentions that Chiquita has been transferred over from Animal Care and Control and is a little freaked out. I go to sit with her. She’s a year old all black girl with several extra toes. She’s cute, but the big feet give her a funny, splayed looking walk. She gives a couple little squeaks from her hiding spot, then quickly comes out and starts rubbing vigorously around, giving hyper head butts and making quick circles around the room.

Unfortunately, she is still a bit nervous, and she growls as other people walk down the hallway toward us. "It’s ok sweetie," I murmur over and over. And after awhile she relaxes, wants to play. She’ll be fine, she’s young and cute and hopefully will be adopted and into a secure new place soon.

My older friend Summer, the orange tabby with the funny back leg, is still here. She’s a poster child for making the best of her circumstances. She demands attention from people walking by, and hobbles around just fine, thank you, letting me know when to pet her and when she’s ready for a snack. Got to adapt to our situations, us and the cats.

Well Adjusted - Baby

Someone’s rolled out a metal cart with tray with a tray of cookies in the lobby at Maddie’s, and I have to make my way around a swarm of staffers. Reminds me of every workplace I’ve known. (Wonder if those bankers with the zillion dollar bonuses ever taste the excitement of free toll house cookies?)

It’s otherwise quiet. There are a couple people seriously looking to adopt, but not the folks I encounter. Several parents and kids are making the rounds (local schools having ski week, a new holiday since my youth) and I talk to two different people who are "just looking" at both cats and dogs.

I meet new arrival Wallace, a soft pretty four year old brown tabby with a white bib and paws. His description says he’s well adjusted. Indeed he is – he’s immediately comfortable with me, purring and rubbing around for petting. We have some play time after the cuddling, then he sprawls out next to me, arching his back and purring again. I can tell he’s a guy who will bounce right out of his carrier at his new home.

My buddy Rusty next door is not so relaxed. He still sings out some meows as if in pain when his door is opened. But he does settle down, and he’s sweet from then on. He also wants to play and enjoys a belly rub.

But across the hall, Baby’s got a single agenda item: it’s all about laps for this little girl. Name notwithstanding, Baby is a petite tabby and white 12 year old, and confirmed lap girl. She purrs and cuddles in a kind of possessive way, as befits someone mature and used to getting her way. She’s got the ruffled fur of a senior kitty, though she can leap up to her non-lap sitting area with ease.

Across the hall, Rusty observes us with a baleful expression. Wallace has already curled up for a nap. Baby stays alert, kneading gently. She has fewer years left, but she would be ideal for someone who doesn’t want to make a decade’s long commitment – for instance, someone who wants to travel later on when the economy turns around.

Over in hallway one, another family comes cruising by. Two parents and three energetic kids who race ahead exclaiming at the cats. The oldest one solemnly reads out names and meet-your-match titles. The youngest, a boy maybe three or so watches me interact with Punky. The parents usher the kids back out, but the child turns to me and gives a wave and a firm "good-bye." Nice to see well adjusted children too.

Safe Inside - Meow Meow

There’s a notice up for volunteers at the shelter warning that a dog walker was assaulted and another threatened nearby. The description is vague enough to be scary, although it sounds like the guy is a local denizen. Troubled by the economy, mentally imbalanced, or some combination of – I mean, who attacks an apron clad dog walker? I feel bad for the volunteers, though I’m not extra worried; I’ve walked around the Mission for years and always with my urban gait (quick, directed, looking annoyed and without valuables).

Anyway, it’s safe inside with the cats. Seems like most of the visitors aren’t looking to adopt yet – there are some moms with kids and a group of young people cruising around pointing out different cats to each other. Also a couple different people specifically looking for kittens, and I explain about kitten season coming up later in the Spring.

I check in on Stubby, my five year old black and white Manx friend, who was rescued from an outdoor colony. When I first met her she was super shy and preferred to stay hidden. They’ve stuck a big pillow in her hiding spot though, and she’s gotten more confident.

She hops out to sit on my lap for a bit, then chase a toy. She’s a funny, goofy girl, soft, with a pretty white stripe up her nose, and that tiny stumpy tail. Not the world’s most cuddly cat, but she’s getting there. She’s definitely entertaining.

I keep watching her from across the hall with big lovey long hair boy Meow Meow. He's a friendly six year old who likes to look out his window at the sidewalk below. He tries to be a lap cat, although he's a bit big to fit comfortably for both of us.

A magenta haired staffer goes in and starts up the special cat video on Stubby’s TV. Many of the cats ignore the TVs, but Stubby is transfixed, she hunkers down like it’s her favorite show.

Meow Meow too -- he stands at his door staring at the chattering birds and squirrels, making his own little chirping noises through a clenched mouth. Stubby leans out farther and farther from her perch, eyes on the screen.

Outside, the wind is picking up, and more rain’s on the way. Not to mention the attack man. Stubby’s got to be pretty psyched – in from the elements, with televised birds to watch from a warm cushioned bed.

At First Sight - Winks

Happy Chinese New Year... and please don't scare the animals with fireworks this weekend...

The first couple people I encounter at the shelter decline help; just looking, one says. The other, a gentle seeming middle aged woman tells me apologetically, "No thanks, I don’t want to…" and fades out. I get what she means, it’s easy to become attached, although I pretty much can’t resist meeting a new animal when I get the chance.

Speaking of which: Oh, Ozzie! He’s like my dream cat, and I’m glad the other cats in my life aren’t here to witness me melting in his presence. He’s a newly arrived four year old brown tabby with a classic tabby face and perfect big round markings. Only a clipped ear breaks the symetry.

It’s not just looks; I don’t want to be that shallow. Ozzie’s incredibly sweet and loving. He kneads and purrs, gazing straight into my eyes as he does so. I can’t help but haul him into my lap, and he curls up like a big baby, tail between his legs. People walking by ooh and ah when they see him. (I'd post his picture but I'm afraid he'll be off the website by the time I get there. Yup.)

His paperwork says he was surrendered, and I can’t imagine how anyone could let him go. At least he’s the sort of fellow who will get snapped up fast.

There’s another cat I just adored on sight who’s been here longer. Winks is a soft ten year old bright orange tabby, a little more shy and quirky. There’s something special about her though too, and I squeeze in a little extra time visiting her. She weaves bravely around my legs and stares at me sweetly as well.

Back in hallway 3, I meet the pair of 9 month olds next to Ozzie. Shane and Murphy are both cute tabby and white guys, but quite nervous for older kittens. They slink out slowly, enjoy being petted but remain wary, and back away when anyone enters the hall.

A woman comes in with a pair of kids. I assume from her young age and lack of attention to the children that she’s a sitter rather than the mom. She’s on her phone, then she turns it sideways and starts texting. It makes an irritating noise, and the kitties crouch back toward the corner.

The kids approach the window and little Shane growls, only he’s half hidden and too cute to be scary. Still, the kids tap the window and meow at each other, the cats back farther up with their fur rising on their backs, and the woman just keeps tapping on her tiny keyboard. When they whine that they want to leave, she shushes them and says she needs to finish her email.

So kind of she’s getting three things done between her important message, watching the kids and viewing the cats. But actually she’s not accomplishing much at all. And there are wonderful things to see here.