Moving Day - Bruno

You know when the animal shelter seems like an oasis of calm that it’s pretty chaotic at work. Our big office move is this weekend. It’s been a crazy week, even with the recession allowing a move to a bigger space and the miracle of craigslist enabling us to get rid of all kinds of crap from old cords to gigantic cabinets. It’s weird walking through the mostly empty space, knowing we have to set up elsewhere new next week.

Not to anthropomorphize, but all the animals at Maddie’s are dealing with this sort of shake up too, upheaval without even any say in the matter. They’re coping as well as they can, some more successfully than others.

I show pretty tabby Tony, a friendly old hand who’s been here too long. But the guy is here to learn about volunteering rather than ready to adopt. Tony enjoys the company anyway; he’s learned to press up to his window in search of potential visitors.

At the end of hallway 5 is one of my new favorites, Bruno. Another volunteer has scrawled "I heart Bruno" on his kennel card, and who doesn’t, what a sweet boy. He’s a 2 year old chubby cheeked black and white fellow, who’s cheerful and gets along well with his roomies. He’s pretty mellow on his own, but puts up patiently with the antics of a kitten and a frisky fluffy torbie who keeps mock attacking. I whisper that he’s a good boy, and soon he’ll have a nice permanent home.

I hang out with Nana and Changa, a new bonded pair. They’re adorable tabby siblings, she short haired brown and he long hair and more gray. Changa’s a bit more outgoing, arching up onto his hind legs to be petted, while Nana hangs back rubbing my arm and offering nervous little licks to my hand. They cope with the stress here by cuddling together.

Later, I’m in with sweet little Lily in hallway 4, when I see big lanky Luigi stroll by out in the hall. There was a young couple just here. It’s not supposed to happen, but sometimes people will crack the doors a bit to say hi to the cats. Or possibly he’s learned to open his door – that happens with the occasional Maddie’s resident too, particularly those clever and long legged.

In any case, I try unsuccessfully to herd him back. He’s polite but determined to have his outing, and I end up lifting him and hauling him back before anyone opens the outer hall door. I stay and visit with him. He’s pretty pleased with himself, purring but still a bit restless and eyeing the door. After awhile he settles onto my lap, sitting tall but leaning heavily onto my chest, his head tucked under my chin. Who can blame him for wanting a change of scenery?