Oh Yeah, Thanks - Sadie

Three cheers for Thanksgiving! Friends, family and food make for a fine holiday. I managed to celebrate at two different gatherings, and eat well but not totally over indulge. Caught up with lots of people, heard good news and bad and still too many worries about jobs and job prospects.

And stayed up way too late. I drag myself over to Maddie’s thinking a quiet day with the cats would be nice, but guess – correctly – that that’s not going to happen. Yup, it’s Black Friday at the adoption center too, and the place is hopping.

First up, a woman with two kids, who turn out to be her nephew and niece, come in to meet Sadie, a cheerful and pretty 9 year old torbie. She’s a young 9, and while her paperwork says she’s shy, she does fine with four of us in there, wending between us and purring happily.

The aunt explains that the kids have never had a pet, and they’re just exploring the idea. (Ah the influence of the aunt – been there.) Both children are a bit shy with the cat, but interested and attentive when I run through some of the duties and rewards associated with caring for a pet.

The next guy I talk to is a soft spoken man who lost his cat a month ago. We meet two kitties he’s interested in, and chat for a bit about cats and cat personalities. I feel like he has one of those magic moments with a lovely new all white fellow named Hemmingway. He’s a cool kitty, and he climbs up onto the guy’s leg for a moment, seeming to claim him.

The guy considers it for a bit, and then decides he’s ready to adopt him, and I send him off to the front desk. Several other people ask for assistance – some looking pretty seriously, others just checking out Maddie’s and getting their cat fix.

Another aunt with two nieces are shopping for a feisty kitten to go with an active household with other cats and dogs. As I’m showing the adorable and aptly named Spidy, I see Hemmingway’s new dad carefully carrying the tell tale cardboard box out in the parking lot out front. The kids thank me and move on.

And it occurs to me to offer thanks back. As a volunteer, it’s easy to see the people touring Maddie’s as a single mass of people with needs and questions. But on a day with so many visitors, individuals stand out… so thanks to the people who’ve decided to adopt a homeless animal, to the guy who made a spontaneous extra donation along with paying the adoption fee for his pair of kittens, to the people bringing out of town guests to show how nice a shelter can be – and of course, to the animal loving aunts. All of our lives are enriched.

Pets of the Past - Puff

Empty condos at Maddie’s! I’m pleased to see that senior gals Pookie and Mitten have been adopted, and I shortly learn that my buddy Tony is about to go home. We’re in no danger of running out of adoptable cats, of course, but it’s good to see the turn over.

I visit with Carrie, then move across the hall to meet Puff. She’s a pretty gray and white 8 year old with a friendly face and loud purr. She rubs around, her motor running, head butting my arm and offering sweet little licks. But she doesn’t really alight anywhere, rather she paces, slightly anxious, wary of the other cat noises. Clearly, she needs a comfortable home and people of her own to relax with.

Puff reminds me of another Puff I knew years back. At one point in high school, several friends and I all had elderly or infirm pets at home, and it got to be kind of a running thing between all of us. Streak, Star, Happy, Puff, a shivery toy poodle whose name I’ve forgotten… My friend’s cat Puff – also sweet, a bit plump, gray – made it the longest, living into her (and our) 20s.

It’s funny how much you can forget about childhood, yet keep crystal clear pictures of your friend’s or the neighbor’s pets.

Moving along, I sit with several more kitties who have gone more than a day without a volunteer visit. Two of our extra shy kitties, Maya and Siren, seem more outgoing than they’ve been, I’m glad to see.

A pair of young women (not clear to me if they’re a couple or just pals with an overly charged connection; probably the former) want a young cat that’s not too aggressive. Sweet tabby Nicholas seemed ideal, but one of them thinks he’s too small. They move on, arguing. I think maybe they’re not quite ready to share a pet yet.

Another young duo, definitely just friends, walk around looking in windows and comparing notes about their childhood cats. By which they refer to the recent past, and to cats still residing with their parents.

I feel flooded with nostalgia for a moment. Mostly I don’t miss my early 20s, but what I wouldn’t give to go back briefly to a time when my parents were alive in my childhood home and my own first cat was living there keeping them company.

Relax, This Won't Hurt a Bit - Carrie

Took my boy in to the vet this morning. He was innocence itself at first, letting me push him into the carrier and clip shut its door. He peered out with an expression of increasing alarm before his "what the—hey, where are you taking me" meows turned to anguished cries getting into the car.

But once there, he was reasonably tolerant with the doctor, staff, and even a friendly dog in the lobby. (This was a marked change from my last kitty, who was a third of his size but an unholy terror at the vet’s, and would never in a million years have allowed herself to be unceremoniously hauled room to room tucked under the doctor’s arm.)

He’s the Love Bug personality type – initially shy but sweet and lovey once he’s comfortable with somebody. Maddie’s hallway 2 has a whole row of Love Bugs – little black and white Duchess, gentle all black Beatrice, and a new favorite, Carrie. I sit quietly with each of them, and encourage them to try a few licks of food. (Montana had been scared and not eating when he was at the shelter, something which amused the vet after he weighed in at 19 pounds.)

Carrie’s a sweet long haired super soft 2 year old tortie, barely visible at first. But once I sit posing no threat, she pokes her head then body out with a series of expressive cries. She rubs and purrs as I pet her, but stays alert and a bit nervous. She chases a toy too before winding around for more petting. Meeting my eye, she lurches up to rest her paws on my shoulder and nuzzle my hair.

I’m sorry to leave her, but there are more cats to see and people to help. Unfortunately she goes back to hiding once I’ve left. Friendly twelve year old Pookie, a short hair tortie down the hall, does a better job of selling herself, sitting up at her window and rubbing her head toward passersby.

I talk to a man who lost his 15 year old cat this summer and is just starting to look around, and a couple hoping to find a kitten who won’t make noise at night. I’m afraid I’m more helpful to the former. Some things are pretty much in a young cat’s nature.

I’m disappointed to see Bruno, the charming soft black and white boy, back. Guessing he had trouble getting along with a resident cat; he’s kind of an attention grabber. He’s sweet and affectionate and playful with me, and stands at his door meowing and seeking someone else to bond with after I go. Probably he’s a delight to take to the vet.

Happy Endings - Thomas

It’s a dreary day, baseball season is over and I’m kind of tempted to sneak off to Hawaii in the manner of our missing Mayor. Off to the shelter in the drizzle instead. There have been some signs about a missing cat in my neighborhood, sad signs with handwritten notes saying he’s probably scared and hungry. Today another note scratched across says "He’s Home!!"

I’m cheered up and hoping for a similarly happy ending to Thomas’ long stay at Maddie’s. He’s a good boy, a solid 10 year old white and gray with this cute little gray line under his chin, like a feline hipster soul patch. He's got an under control heart condition, but you wouldn't know it to see him racing around his condo. He’s friendly, but not overwhelmingly needy, and they suggest he’d do best as the only cat in the house.

A mom and daughter come by, exclaiming over how big he is. (Thomas looks normal to me, but I’ve gotten used to my super sized cat. He does have a good sized sturdy head.) They continue along, squeezing together to review each cat, talking excitedly.

Several cats haven’t had visitors for two or three days, so the volunteers have lots to do even without very many potential adopters on hand. I meet several half grown kittens with a range of personalities from super feisty calico Cheeka to adorable and relaxed to the point of floppiness sisters Lily and Sally. Another trio entertain passersby with a play fight of scrabbling legs and ferocious neck bites. No hissing though, and moments later they’re sitting side by side washing their paws.

I sit across the hall with sweet shy Amanda, a small 2 year old black and white long hair girl. A pair of young men pause and one of them wags his fingers by the window to be chased. But they move on, only looking mildly interested. Soon the kittens are sprawled out napping, the smallest one with her paws extended as though about to dive into a pool.

I coax Amanda into my lap, wishing she could relax as easily. As I watch, a staff person clips up Adoption Pending tag for one of the kittens. At least one more happy ending today.