Home at Last - Jeremy & Luigi

The boyfriend and I took a long weekend camping trip in Yosemite. A month ago making plans, I’d wondered about closures and cold at the higher elevations, but it was lovely up there, ideal hiking weather even at 9000 feet.

I’d been hoping to squeeze in a shelter shift before or after, but work and the mess at home interfered. Nice thing about a volunteer position – the work is important but missable, and I know there are other volunteers around every day at Maddie’s.

Checking the website, I see that Jeremy and Luigi still haven’t been adopted. They’re a shy bonded pair, both sweet boys. They don’t much like all the activity at the shelter, but I think they’d blossom in a quiet household. Cats like their routines and living in a secure place. The cautious ones in particular can act different in the shelter than when they’re relaxed at home, I regularly tell people.

This little trip disrupted things for our cats. My boy Montana (and by the way, I chose that name at least a year before the mayor did!) gets lonely and hungry, but he’s quick to forgive me once I’m back. He followed me room to room, and tried to squeeze onto my lap, despite the heat, whenever I sat down.

He’s quite the change from my former kitty, who recognized/became annoyed when I started packing, flat out refused to interact with anyone who came to feed her, and upon my return bounced between near hysterical crying and none too subtle expressions of displeasure (pointedly turning her back to me or sniffing at hiking boots and hissing). Then again, I never worried about her running out of food, being a nibbler who rarely made it to the bottom of her dish… unlike Montana, who happily eats what’s in front of him, not at all getting the concept that twice as much food should last twice as long.

The boyfriends cats, Emmy (formerly Emily, adopted 2001) and Allie (formerly Annie, 2006) are both more independent. Sure, they miss him and miss being fed at the right time, but they both have their regular business to attend to. They go into frenzy when he gets home, but it’s short lived. A bowl of kibble, some cuddling on the couch, and they’re pretty much back to normal.

Although both of them do monitor his movements. They both know the sound of his car, and on occasions when I’m there and he’s not, Emmy will stand vigil when she expects him, crouched on the arm of the couch, ears perked. Which is sweet but sad if he doesn’t show up.

Anyway, the long hours outdoors were nice, but it’s good to be home and showered with feline affection. Makes me think of the shelter kitties, all of them longing for their own people to wait for and welcome back home.

Part of the Solution - Meimei

I’m disappointed to see that Mitten, the sweet faced 10 year old tabby, is back after a few months. (There were problems with the resident cat.) And pretty orange Sharyn, another 10 year old, just got returned. At least both of them are perky and attentive to visitors, good get-adopted behavior.

Speaking of – new kitties Seal (lanky gray and white) and Chloe (soft plump dil tortie), a non-bonded pair, are super happy to have a human in their condo. Chloe has about the loudest sustained purring I’ve heard from a cat; the two of them have a purring contest and she wins. He squirms around on my lap for petting while she flops beside me, paws in the air, still purring like a jet liner.

There’s a rush of people, singles and couples, mostly interested in kittens. Fortunately there are several volunteers today. An older fellow has just lost his companion – he’s not ready to adopt but just wants to see who’s around. He clearly needs to be around some cats, and his grief is palpable.

I help a young woman who has a toddler and another cat at home. She checks out several youngsters, and I’m relieved that she decides on a gentle 4 month old rather than a younger and more hyper pair.

The crowd thins as suddenly as it appeared, and I’m back to socializing visits. I hang out with Meimei, a delightful 4 year old tortie "love bug" (shy but extra affectionate). She hides for about thirty seconds before diving into my lap, kneading and purring and pushing her nose into my hand for faster pets. She’s distinctive and pretty, green eyed with lots of tannish orange mottled fur on her back and little white spots on her chest and one set of toes.

Sitting quietly here, as other volunteers and staff go about their business, I reflect for a moment on the recent investigative piece that was so critical of the changes in SF SPCA policies. I’m glad, first off, for journalists researching and digging into a story… our city would certainly be worse off without an active media presence. The focus seemed mostly to be dogs, and I have little first hand knowledge of the dogs coming and going (or not) at Maddie’s. Count me in as someone who was proud of SF’s no kill policy and wishes it was a current and universal thing.

But coming here weekly, I can say definitively that nobody ‘s hankering to put down any animal. And I’m pretty sure that the board members years back didn’t factor in the biggest economic downturn in half a century in their timeline for launching a grand new animal hospital.

Guess I would hope that anyone quick to condemn decisions made is also on the front lines giving time or money or both to better the situation for homeless animals. (Don’t have money because the job’s gone, have to work extra hours because the younger kid’s college expenses are through the roof? Maybe we all would have made some different decisions with foresight.) Anyway, there are a couple of sweet ten year olds here who need people with extra dedication to animals.

Eight Years Later - Kincaid

Off to the shelter on 9-11. The weather here feels like the weather there then; I was back east on vacation that day eight years ago (Worst Vacation Ever). Stood on the beach talking to people from the DC area worried about friends.

At Maddie’s, I’m happy to see that three long time kitties, Sharyn, Ernie and Applesauce, have found homes. A lot more where they came from, though.

I hang out with mellow Kincaid, a handsome, dark, long limbed 9 year old tabby. He’s affectionate with people but uncomfortable around other animals, and needs to be an only pet. He rubs around while I pet him, then sits in front of me, staring up while I coo at him, before sinking to a comfortable lounging spot. He seems a bit listless, like he doesn’t want to get too close, knowing I’ll soon leave, poor sweet guy.

Next up, Scooter, a precious soft all black 13 year old, with a bossy, squawky meow. She’s a young 13, small and delicate on her feet, and pleased to have company. She purrs and rubs too. But she hasn’t been eating – there are four full food dishes in her condo, three of them different types of wet food. She’ll deign to eat if I fish out tiny fingerfulls for her to lick, so we proceed like that for awhile. I’m sure she just needs a normal routine to get comfortable eating. Finally, she steps across my lap and settles slowly onto my left leg, glancing back as if to say that I’ll do, I’ve passed her inspection.

I’m across the hall when a young couple pause outside Scooter’s window. They’re a cute contrast, like Burning Man now meets Valencia Street 1980s. I offer to show her, talking up her attributes. But they explain that they’re still debating – the long haired woman wants an older cat, but the short haired one wants a kitten. I have a feeling the kitten will win out – after all, time passes and the kitten will (hopefully) become an older cat but it doesn’t work the other way.

Towards the end of my shift I explain the shelter’s layout and procedures to a middle aged woman who’s teary eyed just contemplating all the homeless kitties. Stories spill out of her fast, as if she’s not used to being listened to, about how she misses her cat that was stolen, what he was like, how therapeutic he could be.

She is so different from me/my world that I have to beat back the impulse to pass judgment. She tours the hallways, and settles on a sweet young gray kitty who’s recently arrived from Lake County. The woman has kind of a dog person mannerism toward the cat, but they seem pleased with each other. The kitty is bouncy and playful, and at least tolerant of being scooped up and kissed.

She says need to take this girl home even though she still desperately misses the other cat. But we both know that time can help heal.

Fun at Home - Clarissa

Well, the fog finally rolled in early this morning. I know because my Montana, who dislikes a too warm flat, got uncharacteristically frisky. He charged up and down the hall a couple times then came to stand right next to my head, giving a delighted squawk when I cracked open an eye to meet his.

It’s brisk and comfortable walking towards the shelter, in case I need more incentive to stay put over the long weekend. (Wildfires, bridge closures, a happy cat at home, why leave?)

I’m pleased to note that Lexie and little Kiwi were recently adopted. Plus a very charming trio of friendly all black siblings got taken together. Hats off to that generous adopter, who I’m sure will have years of fun with those cool kitties. We still have several bonded pairs here though, and I make a point of stopping to check in on Jeremy and Luigi and the Liddys, Big and Little.

A number of cats have gone two or three days without a volunteer visit, so there are plenty of cats to see. I enjoy interacting with charming Clarissa, who reminds me a bit of my boy. She’s a 7 year old long hair black and white, a little cautious but mostly in-your-face friendly (a "Personal Assistant"). Her picture is cute, but doesn’t do her justice; she’s prettier and slimmer in person, with a thick, soft, luxurious coat.

She’s chatty and loves to be petted, and clearly would enjoy being brushed – a good thing with all that fur. As I stroke her, she accidentally dips her tail into her water dish, then swishes it around, not bothered in the least.

Must be a day to get wet. My next visit is with Echo, a sweet and chunky Russian Blue girl across the hall. She’s so excited by having company that she purrs and rubs and drools all at the same time. Close to a ten on a one to ten drooling scale – but for anyone who thinks it’s cute, what a winner. I’ve been around cats like that, and they do calm down after awhile. But she’s still pretty pumped up when I move on.

There are a few people walking around, mostly just observing the cats and moving at a fast pace. A very young couple who look like high schoolers, but probably are on their own, debate the merits of cute little Cupcake. But they wander away, not ready to meet her.

Things pick up toward the end of my shift, and I point three different couples to the kitten hallways. (Maddie’s has fewer teensy kittens, but still plenty of kittens under six months available. ) There are several volunteers on hand, so I take off knowing they’re in good hands.

Outside at the bus stop on 16th, I see a woman with a telltale shelter cardboard box waiting for the 22. Pretty clear how she’ll be spending her weekend. And pretty hard to imagine a better one.