You Betcha - Louie

I come in to volunteer a day early this week. (Will be spending Halloween at work, where we’re to have a brown bag lunch with candy and a costume contest… it’s a little like elementary school at my office sometimes. Also, there’s a staff meeting. I’ll be in my Palin outfit, winking heavily made up eyes and using folksy phrases to not answer questions put to me.)

Anyway, I arrive at Maddies on the tail end of a Yes on 2 press conference. Serious looking guys are packing away cameras in the lobby, which is spruced up and sporting large campaign signs. Dozens of Yes on 2 volunteers are milling around eating snacks off small paper plates and chatting.

A few campaign and press people wander the cat halls, mostly talking to each other and just glancing at the cats. With everything going on this weekend, I’m not surprised it’s slow for actual adoptions.

I spend quiet time with some shy girls. Ana’s at least making eye contact with people walking by, and super freaked out Jenga actually lets me stroke her head. Oh and little Becca finally went home, that’s good news for all of us who have worked with her.

Later, a cheerful young woman comes in and talks loud baby talk to each cat she sees, calling out their names and exclaiming how cute and darling they are. This gets a number of them riled up and mewing at their doors. Goofy boy James starts mauling his look alike stuffed animal while keeping an eye toward the door to see who’s watching.

I have to go see Louie, who’s meowing like a car alarm. He’s a slender 4 year old, grey with a tiny white patch on his chest. He’s been classed as shy, but is definitely warming up. He’s friendly and frisky, climbing in and out of my lap and head butting my hand to pet him. He loves the old toy-under-the-rug game, pouncing and sliding comically across the floor.

As soon as anyone enters the hallway, he darts to the door for a look and a meow. Might as well be saying, "vote for me!"

Looking hopefully forward to Nov 4…

Little Girl Charm - Shalimar

I’m running a little late for my volunteer shift, and am surprised to walk past a full parking lot an Maddies. Sometimes people sneak in to use the free parking, but there are also a bunch of people walking around the shelter already.

I check in and see that Kitter and Sammy have been adopted (yay for old cats in new homes!). A number of people are just window shopping, including what appears to be a whole pre-school class.

A friendly young man is interacting with Shalimar through her window. He’s got a guy-on-lunch-break vibe, but is happy to go in and meet her in person. Shalimar is an active, expressive three year old tortie who turns on the charm as soon as we enter her space. She rubs, meows, practically dances between us anxious for petting and ready to play.

The guy gets his cat fix, thanks me, and leaves. Shalimar stays by her door ready to snare another customer. I watch from across the hall as a sweet little girl in a sailor dress comes tiptoeing into the hallway followed by her dad. She crouches at each doorway, narrating the cats’ activities. Shalimar rubs the door, arching up as if she’s being petted even with the door between them.

It’s like cute little girl day today – towards the end of my shift another sweet little girl comes prancing into hallway 4 with her mom. They ask to see a brand new pair of Siamese kittens. I’m a little skeptical – these are shy kittens and the girl is young. But they both assure me they know how to act around animals.

Indeed they do. We all sit, quietly talking, and wait for the kittens to approach. They’re looking for a quiet cat companion for the cat at home who recently lost her good buddy. There are also a couple dogs in the house. But the mom cuddles one of the kittens and the girl entertains me with a barely coherent monologue about all the animals at home.

She knows to talk softly, but she keeps cracking herself up and giggling into her hand. She wiggles a toy around, urging the kittens to play and bouncing with delight when one of them extends a paw towards it.

I watch the shy little kitten. This new household will be quite a challenge for her. But she’ll be growing up with a very sweet little friend.

Shaky Ground - Ana

Is the economic crisis having an impact on the SPCA? I count only four potential customers over my three hour shift, and only one of them needs help (she makes a quick selection of a shy orange kitten, assuring me her two kids will love him).

So extra time with the feline friends. As I write in the date on the volunteer log, it strikes me. October 17 – has it really been 19 years since Loma Prieta? So many things have changed since then (and I don’t just mean the Giants and As in the 1989 World Series). Like cell phones. They were new back then; a friend who lived in the East Bay and worked in the city told how one woman in a crowd gathered to catch a ferry (BART had stopped running and the power was out) passed hers around so that everybody else could call loved ones and say they were ok.

I figured things were not as bad as they first seemed by the time I made it home, also sans BART. Walking several miles from South of Market (back when that was a gritty area) to my flat near City College, I only saw modest damage. The plume of smoke from the Marina was worrying, but otherwise mostly people were hanging out on a hot night. And my cat Pepe greeted me at my door meowing indignantly for her delayed dinner. She was an unusually mellow cat, it’s true, but she didn’t seem to even have noticed the quake.

The threat of a really big one has been with us every day since. Now I keep a food and water supply, a solar powered radio and flashlight, the cat carrier handy near my door. But since around November ’89 I haven’t really worried much. I don’t want to live always scared, anticipating the next blow.

Which brings me to little Ana. Some bad stuff has happened to her, it’s obvious by the way she huddles in a nervous ball, how she flinches at a gentle hand coming toward her. She’s a pretty 5 year old brown tabby with big sorrowful eyes. She has a couple scarred areas on her sides, and her ears look a bit chewed up.

Her safe spot is at the top of her climbing structure. She won’t leave it, but lets me pet her there, mewing nervously during the first few strokes. Then she curls around one way and another, purring and kneading, never closing her eyes but looking up sideways, wary and needy both.

Poor girl. Yes, it can be a dangerous world for a little cat. Or for anyone living in the big city on the fault line. I’d like to get her to that point of not feeling nervous every waking minute though.

Boo Angels - Sammy

Well, another Fleet Week, and I’m doing my best to avoid the whole northern part of town. Don’t even get me started on the Blue Angels – whoops, too late! – they waste fuel, they pollute, they represent an ill-used US military, they’re dangerous (crashes are rare but not unheard of and this is a densely populated place).

And their ear shattering roar absolutely terrifies animals. Even the mellowest look anxious, and a more sensitive animal can really freak out from the noise. My Muppy used to hide for hours after the air shows, even from just a couple fly overs. I feel my own blood pressure rise. It boggles my mind that people come from out of town for this. If you want to see people doing amazing things in formation, check out some synchronized diving.

Not surprisingly, the shelter is fairly empty of potential adopters. I do help a polite and soft spoken couple who are checking out the kittens, and who seem at least close to making a final decision. Otherwise, only a few people wander around just looking at the cats.

I tell myself I’m mostly here to comfort the cats this soon to be noisy day. But it goes both ways. Sammy, a ridiculously sweet and friendly plus pretty 12 year old silver tabby, gets me laughing and forgetting the outside world. He stands at the door meowing until I go in to see him. Then he rubs around possessively, purring and squirming onto my lap, and gazing up adoringly. Next comes his signature move: he reached both paws up, one on each shoulder, and rubs his face around my chin and neck.

It’s funny and sweet and, well, a little disturbing because he’s been drooling. But what a nice boy. Then he slowly sinks back down my chest to my lap, stray fur and a bit of drool trailing on my apron, and settles happily, looping his pretty striped tail around my arm.

Sammy is calm and content, purring softly, his little mouth curved into what looks like a smile. Another hour at least before the planes start up. It’s not that the air shows are the only bothersome thing around. Animals in a shelter are nervous anyway, and cats in general tend to be a bit on edge. I mean, it’s too bad so many of them are here in the first place.

But for now, Sammy and I sit and enjoy the quiet.

Great Escape - Adobe

My volunteer shift is bookended with older women adopting kittens after having lost their old cats, though they otherwise could hardly be more different. The first has already made up her mind and spends just a minute or so with her single choice before announcing she’ll take her. She tells me it’s her birthday, and her friend in the hallway will be paying the adoption fee. He smiles at her, but looks barely interested in the cat.

The other woman is far more contemplative. She’s just getting started on her search, and really intends to get a sense of the little creatures. She wants to get her new companion used to company and even able to sometimes travel with her, so she needs to find a special, trainable, open minded kitty.

There are a fair number of people around during the lull in the middle too. A pair of painters come to fix a leaky area in the end of hallway 5. Nearby cats react predictably – little Becca cowers and hides, "band leader" Tory glues herself to the doorway pawing for their attention, and Kitter watches for a bit, then falls asleep.

I seek a quieter place in hallway 4, but walk in to find a pair of men leaning down from their canes to pet a big orange and white cat in the middle of the hall. They all look pleased with themselves, and I feel a little bad breaking up the party, but I pick up the escapee and gently toss her into the condo with the open door.

The men assure me that they didn’t let her out but she just wandered out while they were standing there. They seem sincere. They look like those guys who play bocce ball in the park – older, but feisty and fun-loving still. Just looking around, they say, and limp off down the corridor, pointing out cats that remind them of other cats they know or knew.

Adobe, meanwhile, meows from her doorway for a visit, eager for more company. She’s on the chunky side, with an orange head and white chest, a strong growly purr and a loud, demanding meow. Affectionate and drooly, she tromps across my lap pausing to knead and rub my hand with her head.

Not sure if she’s named for the building material or the software company or what. I think I might call her Steve McQueen – really, when I first returned her to her little room she looked like she wanted to take out a baseball and toss it in disgust.

A staffer comes by and I mention finding her in the hall. He nods, says it’s not the first time, that she can get the door open if it’s not clicked fully shut. She sits by me, purring happily, her little pink tongue just visible between her lips.

I still think of this particular condo as Emmy’s room. This is where the boyfriend’s older cat was housed back seven years ago when we toured the place and he found her. (Happy coming home anniversary, big girl! Glad you made your escape.)

September - Junior

Autumn manifests itself at the shelter not with the city’s standard summer-like heat, but by a dearth of campers, and fewer kittens and fewer volunteers. They put little plastic hearts on the condos of cats who haven’t had visits recently, and over a dozen have gone three days without a volunteer visitor.

First up, though, a young couple (appearance suggests high school, but the fact they’re living together and looking for a kitten has me guess just out of college) are waiting anxiously in hallway 1. Though Maddies has only been open fifteen minutes, the first kitten they chose, from a group of adorable orange tabby and calicos, just got snapped up by someone who had gone straight to the front desk.

The remaining bunch are cuddly-cute, so it’s not too hard for them to select another one. (I’m thinking, first, that I can barely tell the difference between these tiny creatures, and second, hey guys, do you realize your new cat will most likely still be your baby in the year 2020? Can you imagine your life that far from now, wouldn’t an older cat make more sense?)

But it’s their choice, and they pick a sweet medium hair calico fluff ball. I head off to see what are unfortunately some regulars. Sweet soft Kitter, who really craves human companionship, and shy Becca, and even shyer Helen.

Junior watches from across the hall, waiting patiently for his turn. He’s a massive 22 pound black and white boy, ironically named yet it suits him. What a sweet, fat lovey guy. Really, it’s pretty rare for me to find a cat who makes my boy look small in comparison – but where Montana is short legged and chunky, Junior is even fatter plus long limbed.

He’s on the shy side too, and on the old side at age nine. But he still likes to play, and he bats my toy around as well as rubbing, purring and delicately licking my hand. His motor is loud enough to hear out in the hallway, and I keep hoping someone will come by and see him, be drawn in by his older guy charm.

No such luck; the kittens are still the most in demand. After awhile a vivacious model-like young woman asks to see another set of kittens, saying she likes orange ones and tabbies. When I mention the other room with the orange kittens she says no, that that whole group has been adopted just in the last couple hours.

Like the first couple, her initial choice was already selected by an earlier adopter. This woman has grown up with cats and her mother shelters feral kittens – she clearly gets it about the responsibility and everything. She settles on a striking 2 month old orange tabby boy and a smaller but slightly older golden eyed all black girl. Halloween kittens, she calls them, calling her husband to urge him to get down right away before anyone else sees them.

I point her towards the front desk where she can get her paperwork started, and stake her claim. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled that the kittens are finding homes. Just wish they all could be as lucky.

Volunteers of America - Becca

No volunteering for me this week. The boyfriend and I spent the week touring Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons (which I heartily recommend). Looks like NPR did a series on Yellowstone [http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=94114095] while we were gone, so don’t just take my word for it – very cool place. I guess I was expecting a few geysers and occasional glimpses of wildlife, but there is amazing hydrothermal/ volcanic/water shooting and mud spewing stuff all over the place. And we saw herds of bison right on our hiking trails, as well as hawks, elk, coyotes and a moose.


Anyway, as a volunteer, I was especially appreciative of all the volunteers around who helped us out. Visitor centers had volunteer rangers who were knowledgeable and helpful in recommending sights and hiking trails, and at one point we joined a geyser tour led by this woman from San Diego who knew pretty much everything about geysers, hot springs, fumaroles, etc. She did a good job keeping things moving and offering insights even in the face of one tourist who asked some amusingly dumb questions.

But boy did I miss the cat. This was my first significant time away from Montana since I brought him home last February. I longed for his presence, his head butts and adoring gazes, and I worried about how he was doing with a once a day sitter (was he regressing and hiding, would he remember me when I got back?) It got to the point where I stopped at a visitor center display of various animals including samples of their fur to touch, and I stood there all sad and stroking some soft red fox fur.

And on one hike where we saw a bunch of bison, this massive one who had been sleeping roused himself and wallowed in dirt, his legs flailing spectacularly in the air. While the boyfriend took pictures, I found myself just reminded of my boy, who does the same sort of thing on the rug after his nap.

It probably won’t come as a shock to learn that my Montana survived while I was gone. He mostly hid and didn’t eat that well, but was ecstatic to see me when I got back. He’s trying to get all his butting and kneading, playing and eating that he missed last week in today, it seems, and he’s a happy – if still the tiniest bit anxious – guy. He got over his anxiety pretty fast the first time, as I recall.

Just checked the SPCA website to see who might have come and gone at Maddies. I see Becca is not only still there, but the featured adoptable cat. Sweet little 6 year old tabby girl, who’s taken awhile to come out of her shell. I’ll be happy to visit her and hopefully show her next time I’m there, but would like to see her gone.

Anyway, it’s good to be back. The air here feels heavy and wet after the high desert. It’s a relief to be back in a blue state, back in the city where I can get quality organics right at the nearby market and go places without needing a car, nice to catch up on the Chron. We heard just snippets of the economic melt down news out there in vacation land.

One more observation, though, speaking of the economy (which folks really should be speaking of this election cycle!) – we drove a big loop from Salt Lake City, spending time in Utah, Idaho and Wyoming. Sure, a lot of it was in the United Nations-like national parks, but even spending the night in Kemmerer WY (home of the fish fossil and also mighty down home; we did not blend), I saw some stickers and billboards for local county commissioners and such, but no McCain signs. Just saying.