Meet Your Match - Timmie

Maybe you've read about the new "feline-alities" cat personality testing

 http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20080514/ap_on_re_us/cat_personality_l .  

The idea is cats are variously measured on how they interact with people, 

and assigned to one of 9 categories in a matrix of low to high sociability

and low to high braveness (with clever names such as Party Animal or 

Personal Assistant).  And then potential pet owners can be quizzed about 

their preference in feline companions, in order to make the most 

accurate matches.

I thought it was kind of cute to read about, but I'm a little disappointed 

to see that the SF SPCA has suddenly embraced this new system.  It 

seems like kind of a solution in search of a problem at Maddie's.  

Perceptive staff behaviorists already assess the cats, and up till now 

have written charming individualized descriptions of the animals' personalities.

I think we can all agree that while cat personalities, like people's, 

can be typed, there are surely more than just 9 suitable descriptions

of cats.  Not to mention that the cat in the shelter will behave 

differently than the cat in a secure home.  (Think about it – how 

would your personality differ from normal were you tested 

during a bad week at a homeless shelter or when you had checked 

into a rehab facility following surgery?)

It's not a big deal, I know that.  The average cat adopter visits 

the shelter, what, once or maybe twice a decade.  Maybe the 

new canned text classifications bring a bit more clarity than the 

whimsical descriptions, though I think many people still judge 

by a combo of appearance and that intangible falling for the 

kitty's charms face to furry face.

But for the volunteers who come week to week and watch cats 

cycle in and out, it's a bit of a let down.  Kind of analogous to 

teachers forced to evaluate by standardized tests instead of dealing 

with the individual kids.  There is talk amongst the volunteers.


Anyway, a couple, youngish, kind of stylishly dressed, tell 

me they're looking for a friendly active cat.  I point them toward 

Timmie, a current favorite.  He's a Ragdoll/lynx point mix, 

very friendly and sweet, with brilliant blue eyes and lovely tabby 

points.  He's ten years old, though, and the woman tells me that's 

far too old.  In fact, they may just look at kittens.

Well, setting people up with my favorites often doesn't work, any 

more than setting up single friends.  You can take the quiz on 

match.com, but it's hard to fight others' initial biases, and there's 

no accounting for chemistry.  Jury's still out on "Meet Your Match."

Not long later, another even younger couple show up with

 a list of cats to see – they're specifically interested in adopting 

a senior kitty.  And they are clearly caring attentive cat people, 

the best sort of people we see here.  I exchange info with 

another volunteer later, who says he thinks they've narrowed 

it down to two, Harry and Morley (yea, go guys!).  However it 

came about – another match to be made.

Keeping Cool - Herndon

It’s been such a huge week for news – locally, a fine step forward for civil rights, internationally, the massive, unfathomable tragedies unfolding for the cyclone and earthquake victims. So my problem seems very small.

But, dang, it’s been so hot! Got air conditioning? Um, none at all. (And not to belabor the big issue list with global warming, but I’m pretty sure I made it through a good part of the 80s in SF without even owning a pair of shorts.) Downtown’s been stifling and weird, with tourists properly attired for the conditions and wilted looking business people in odd cobbled together summer outfits.

One of the many amenities at Maddie’s is that it’s air conditioned. And that doesn’t suck on day three of the heat wave. Although it doesn’t seem to be good cat shopping conditions, and the only member of the public I talk to is a woman who’s lost her cat within the week. It’s so raw she can’t even talk about it. She comes in and pets a couple cats, but I gently suggest it’s probably too soon to do more than that yet.

But I’m keeping cool. I meet Herndon for the first time. He’s a striking long hair silver tabby, but one of those gorgeous guys who cares nothing for his looks. While I admire his soft pale undercoat and gloriously full tail, he just wants to chase the dangle toy.

He darts around all over his condo. Then pauses for a drink of water, and goes about this in a way I’ve never witnessed: he dips his large right paw into the water, cups some, and drinks from his paw. It’s weird and funny. And a bit splashy, especially when he follows it up by charging around some more, leaving wet paw tracks on the floor and across my legs.

He’s one cool kitty. And available.

Young Toughs - Captain

There have been a spate of muggings in my normally safe neighborhood. Seems ironic that one might be more at risk in Glen Park than in the kind of sketchy stretch of 16th Street between BART and Maddie’s.

Either area, as a pedestrian, I stay alert. So I notice when six or seven young men cross 16th in front of me. They’re dressed in gangster style, with the baggy low slung pants dipping below butt level, dark sweat shirts, cool mumblings to each other as they shuffle along.

I don’t actually think I’ll be mugged at 11 am, but I slow down a bit, not wanting to barge amongst them on the sidewalk either. They surprise me by turning toward the shelter, and as I catch up enough to hear their conversation, it’s about Jack Russell Terriers.

They head off to the dog side. I tell myself not to judge by appearance. I mean, I don’t think it’s a school holiday and these boys are naughty enough to be skipping class, but the fact is they’re probably just buddies who like dogs, hanging out. They dress how city kids dress.

Half hour or so later, I visit Captain, a new 3 year old black and white kitty. At first glance it looks like he’s had some fur shaved, but no, he’s just got a big head on a slender body. Male cats who aren’t neutered young develop big cheeks like that, and I assume that’s the case with Captain.

The majority of the cats at Maddie’s were very clearly someone else’s pet, dainty and fastidious and used to human affection. This guy, I can picture having been on the street. He’s still a bit scruffy, and very alert to every noise and movement. But what a sweetheart. Yeah, the Captain is loving life with humans now, the two squares a day, the play time and attention.

A pair of the young toughs come into the hallway, grinning shyly at the cats. A middle aged woman customer gives them a smile. Away from the other guys, here with the homeless cats, they’re just nice young men. Like sweet chubby cheeked Captain, just needing a good setting to bring out his best.

Window on the World - Maggie

It’s hard to live at the shelter. It’s hard to be someplace weird and new, surrounded by strange loud noises and sudden frightening movements. Even with the food and clean litter box, toys and volunteer pet sessions, it’s a big adjustment.

Most cats find a hidden or covered safe spot, some up high, others low or completely covered, as if a lump under a blanket is magically invisible. And some kitties take awhile to move past their safe spots, despite all the encouragement and affection we human friends can offer.

Maggie is a soft gray girl, friendly once she’s coaxed from hiding, but quite cautious by nature. She’s been here for a few weeks now, and up till today stayed mostly hidden.

I went in to see her, and as usual had to persuade her to come out of her enclosed kitty bed with the promise of gentle petting (offer a hand sniff and ear rub, then remove the hand, offer the hand only if she’ll put her head out, pull back the hand, and so on). Soon she was out rubbing around and purring.

This time though, she did a more thorough exploring of her surroundings, and discovered her window. She’s in hallway 4, in the back, and all the back condos have big windows for the cats’ entertainment.

Ok, the view’s not that great, as San Francisco views go. You can see a patch of Florida Street, which looks more like an alley down here. There’s a big industrial building across the street and old anonymous cars parked. But also some weedy grass and wild flowers, and a series of scrubby trees, the kind with the odd looking red brushes blooming this time of year. People wander by regularly, shelter volunteers walking dogs, rough looking people carrying blankets or rolling carts.

Better yet, an old second story shaft of some sort provides a pigeon hang out. Yes, large chattering pigeons come and go at all hours out there. Maggie was transfixed. Even the sound of another volunteer passing in the hall did not bother her – it was like she was suddenly at the movies and forgot about the world.

I left her there bird-watching on her perch, exiting quietly, telling her she’s a pretty girl and she should let everybody see that.

Hugs - Stevie

Read a story in the Chron recently about how pets are getting people names these days. Front page, slow news day, but the evidence is here at Maddie’s.

I go to visit Stevie, who’s across the hall from Jenny, and we could be a little boomer family in Peoria in 1965.

A pair of rather loud large women enter the hallway and I pause for a moment to see if they need help. "We’ll take them all," one says with a hardy laugh. "Wrap up all of them to go, please."

That’s a pretty common sentiment here. I feel that way to some extent – it’s such a wide world of kitties, and they’re all both so precious and unique. But over time, I’ve seen so many of the get adopted that I no longer feel like I have to have every one. I just want them all in mellow loving homes.

These women are just looking around. Back to Stevie. He’s a lanky black and white fellow with long white whiskers and a cute tilted ear sort of expression. His card says he’s shy, but he’s clearly moving past that.

I say hello to him and reach down to let him sniff my hand, as I normally do upon meeting a new cat. But this guy, as I lean down, reaches both paws up to my shoulders, almost launching off the floor in a kitty hug.

He’s adorable. I can barely get seated to offer a lap and he’s on it, purring noisily and flailing his paws around. I pat my shoulders and he reaches up, hugging, head butting and purring.

Sweet Stevie. He needs a good home just like all the kitties here. Hope he finds himself some people who like hugs.