Streets of San Francisco - Mirka

The first person I help at Maddie's is specifically interested in older, affectionate cats. He's a cheerful guy, a bit loud, with amusing stories about prior pets. Maya shows well, as does Mirka, another favorite of mine.

Mirka's a talkative and outgoing medium hair black and white girl, 12 years old but still a bit kittenish. She's got a skin condition on top of a kind of scrawny street appearance; indeed, her paperwork says she was found on the street. She definitely puts herself out there, pawing the door with all of her extra toes when anyone passes by.

But I get the sense that the dude in not actually planning to adopt. He takes off shortly, leaving me to socialize with some other kitties, several of whom are overdue for a volunteer visit.

Later, I chat with older couple who are making the rounds. They explain that they are about to give back the pair of "foreclosure cats" they've been fostering. They are just starting a search. When I ask what sort of cat they would like, they reply by telling stories of about departed cats from their past. In other words, not quite ready.

Then a kind of disparate group arrives, crowding together in front of one then another doorway. They are from some sort of group home, and one of them, a heavyset woman of early middle age, needs a cat because another cat is moving out. She has a heart condition, an older woman explains, so the program will allow her a companion to help with stress.

She speaks like I should know this program, and maybe I should, but I don't. Also, they would like one of the cats whose adoption fee will be waived, since they're on fixed incomes. Most of those cats are bonded pairs or older cats who have been at the shelter for awhile. I take them in to meet Maya, Mirka, and Jellybean.

The woman says she likes Maya. They all head to the front desk for consultation. I feel a bit conflicted. I want Maya to get a home, this woman obviously likes cats and assured me she spends lots of time at home. And I don't want to be economically biased or whatever about their living situation. But I also wonder about stability, and the way they kind of shopped as if for a commodity rather than a pet.

They're still gathered at the front counter when I take off, wondering who will end up where.

Antidote - Trixie

It’s been a tough week; I’ve had unpleasantness launched from multiple directions (disturbing news via email and scary bank statements at home; grant rejections and copier salesmen at work; don’t even start about AIG bonuses or the 6th anniversary of the Iraq invasion…). So I’ve been looking forward to doing something positive at the shelter.

Of course I want Maya to get adopted, but she’s still here, and a comforting presence. Oreo is making progress – he comes immediately out of hiding when I go in to visit him, barely shivers, and bravely eats.

Down the hall, I spot Trixie, a 4 year old tabby calico mix. My Muppy had a litter of kittens just before I found her, years ago now, but when I see this coloring I wonder about lineage. Especially with a notation about a funny meow and prickly attitude (Trixie’s graciously described as "can get a little worked up").

This girl is much better adjusted though. She gives a couple deep voiced squawks, then starts purring and weaving around and over my legs. She’s got a cute little orange face with a narrow white stripe, and pretty tabby markings. Trixie is a little too jittery to settle in my lap, but she’s very sweet. People walking by make her take notice, but she stays visible and looks interested.

A number of people are just wandering the hallways, seemingly not that interested in the cats. I show a young mostly white kitty to a couple who have an elderly dachshund mix at home. Not sure if that’s an ideal match, but the cat at least seems adaptable.

Then I help a young couple who are looking for a companion for their young cat, who had grown up with another cat who just left. (The woman doesn’t quite explain how this happened, but I pick up that it wasn’t a good situation at home.) She seems emotionally a little fragile, but very sensitive and perceptive in the animal care area.

They specifically want a cat who’s good with other cats, and meet several. I accompany them to visit Crisp, a lovely year old orange and Siamese mix. It feels like an excellent match to me – they both adore the cat, who moves between us, cute and loving. She’s not quite sure. I think it bothers her to chose a sure to be adopted cutie when there are needier animals at the shelter.

They’re still pondering when I take off. But I’m feeling better; maybe they were my antidote.

Performance Anxiety - Oreo

There’s this angelic young man who sings and plays guitar in the Montgomery Street BART station. The songs are folksy, lyrical and sweet, and if I happen to catch him in his full throated chorus, it makes my morning. What’s remarkable, aside from his voice, is the way this guy can perform no matter what the distractions – commuters swirling around him, loud announcements, even other music.

Too bad so many kitties embody the opposite characteristics – they can be sweet and cuddly one moment but completely spooked the next. Except for friendly Maya, Maddie's hallway 4 seems lined with super shy felines.

I meet Oreo for the first time. He’s a slender 3 year old (no surprise) black and white fellow with a dainty pink nose, who stays fully hidden at first while I talk baby talk and try to lure him out. Finally he ventures into the open – he clearly likes to be petted – but he shivers like a little lap dog and cowers next to my leg while I try to sooth him.

It only takes a few minutes till he’s calm enough to stop shaking and investigate the rest of his temporary home. He even has a couple bites of food – they’ve left out the fancy wet stuff to tempt him. Then he’s back, slithering across my lap and even playing briefly with a dangle toy, a soft total sweetie.

Next door, Zoe exhibits a similar pattern. She’s an oddly marked tabby and white girl, about twice the size I expected when she emerges from her hiding box. She wants to be petted but she’s jumpy too, and keeps edging behind her scratching post, which is comically small as an actual hiding place.

Orange tabby boy Boomer down the hall is a bit braver. He likes petting and chasing around toys. But then a Russian speaking couple enter the hallway. They’re a bit loud, and the man taps on the windows to get the cats’ attention. Boomer immediately retreats and stays hidden, only his nose visible.

I wave the toy, trying to draw him out and demonstrate how pretty he is, but they’ve moved on. I don’t have to look to know that the others have made themselves invisible too.

We’re all waiting for some quiet and sympathetic people to come down the hall.

Still Looking for Love - Maya

My first Maddie’s potential customers are a mom and adult daughter who could pass for sisters. They’re still figuring things out as far as their ideal pet – the mom definitely wants a girl cat, while the daughter plans to check out the dogs too. I take it she’s newly moved back in to Mom’s place. The two of them enjoy each other’s company, but I’m guessing there could be some bumps in the road in this reformatted relationship. There’s some give and take in any relationship, even those with pets, right?

Back on Valentine’s Day, they put up some cute "personal ads" for several of the cats, including ten year old Maya. She really is a sweetie – a pretty big eyed brown tabby with a loud purr and open heart who is indeed looking for love. She has a stiff legged walk from arthritis and a bit of a low belly, but she’s still got a streak of kittenish playfulness. She purrs constantly around people, delighted with human company, and I extend our visit, hoping someone will come by and see her curled so nicely on my lap.

Across the hall from her, little Otis is making progress. He’s no longer hiding and even stood meowing at his door for a moment when I approached. Good get-adopted behavior at the shelter. We bond for awhile, and he stays visible and looking out his window when I leave, not even bothered by the sad little meows from another condo.

I peek around and find a formerly feral "cherry blossom" kitten named Ferdinand housed next door. He’s an adorable little gray tabby who hides when he sees me and emits a teensy little hiss, followed by gentle mewing. But then he sniffs my hand and allows his head to be rubbed. Still, he keeps a watchful eye on the hallway.

But I expect he’ll go home soon anyway. He’s got looks and kittenhood on his side so he can get away with some bad date behavior. Maya, who’s now curled up in her cozy with a contented expression, will have to wow her suitors with pure personality.

Adapting to Change - Otis

First of all, about the San Francisco Chronicle. My family took both Washington, DC papers when I was growing up. I’ve read the Chronicle regularly for decades, albeit supplemented by NPR for more serious news. But I commute on BART. I read the paper. I loved Herb Caen, even slogging through those all-the-people-I-know-in-Paris columns.

And newspapers, a reliable, factually accurate free press – hey, cornerstone of our democracy, you know? But, yes, things change, the medium has evolved. I’d say the Chron does not need a new printing press so much as a trimming of upper management and a greater focus on online delivery. Hate the union busting, but acknowledge the lessor need for truck drivers. And digging deeper, a bunch of those things Obama keeps harping on – like reining in exorbitant health care costs, getting banks loaning again – they’re part of the picture too. Despite the freakshow of sfgate commenters, there are a lot of people pulling for the paper.

Anyway, at least it’s a good day at the shelter. Two big sweet black and white kitties housed across from each other in hallway 5 get adopted within minutes of each other – Vinnie headed home with a doting pair of guys in a red mini cooper, and Moochi joining a trio of hip young roommates.

I hang out with pretty little Otis for awhile. He’s an adorable five year old orange tabby, with a sweet expression and soulful eyes. He’s very shy, and as usual it takes a few minutes of gentle talk before he’ll even venture out of his hiding spot. Today he’s braver (or maybe just hungry), and he slithers out for some kibble. Then he ventures onto my lap, purring softly and flexing his claws. It’s slow going, but the little dude is getting used to his situation here.

A staffer mentions that Chiquita has been transferred over from Animal Care and Control and is a little freaked out. I go to sit with her. She’s a year old all black girl with several extra toes. She’s cute, but the big feet give her a funny, splayed looking walk. She gives a couple little squeaks from her hiding spot, then quickly comes out and starts rubbing vigorously around, giving hyper head butts and making quick circles around the room.

Unfortunately, she is still a bit nervous, and she growls as other people walk down the hallway toward us. "It’s ok sweetie," I murmur over and over. And after awhile she relaxes, wants to play. She’ll be fine, she’s young and cute and hopefully will be adopted and into a secure new place soon.

My older friend Summer, the orange tabby with the funny back leg, is still here. She’s a poster child for making the best of her circumstances. She demands attention from people walking by, and hobbles around just fine, thank you, letting me know when to pet her and when she’s ready for a snack. Got to adapt to our situations, us and the cats.

Well Adjusted - Baby

Someone’s rolled out a metal cart with tray with a tray of cookies in the lobby at Maddie’s, and I have to make my way around a swarm of staffers. Reminds me of every workplace I’ve known. (Wonder if those bankers with the zillion dollar bonuses ever taste the excitement of free toll house cookies?)

It’s otherwise quiet. There are a couple people seriously looking to adopt, but not the folks I encounter. Several parents and kids are making the rounds (local schools having ski week, a new holiday since my youth) and I talk to two different people who are "just looking" at both cats and dogs.

I meet new arrival Wallace, a soft pretty four year old brown tabby with a white bib and paws. His description says he’s well adjusted. Indeed he is – he’s immediately comfortable with me, purring and rubbing around for petting. We have some play time after the cuddling, then he sprawls out next to me, arching his back and purring again. I can tell he’s a guy who will bounce right out of his carrier at his new home.

My buddy Rusty next door is not so relaxed. He still sings out some meows as if in pain when his door is opened. But he does settle down, and he’s sweet from then on. He also wants to play and enjoys a belly rub.

But across the hall, Baby’s got a single agenda item: it’s all about laps for this little girl. Name notwithstanding, Baby is a petite tabby and white 12 year old, and confirmed lap girl. She purrs and cuddles in a kind of possessive way, as befits someone mature and used to getting her way. She’s got the ruffled fur of a senior kitty, though she can leap up to her non-lap sitting area with ease.

Across the hall, Rusty observes us with a baleful expression. Wallace has already curled up for a nap. Baby stays alert, kneading gently. She has fewer years left, but she would be ideal for someone who doesn’t want to make a decade’s long commitment – for instance, someone who wants to travel later on when the economy turns around.

Over in hallway one, another family comes cruising by. Two parents and three energetic kids who race ahead exclaiming at the cats. The oldest one solemnly reads out names and meet-your-match titles. The youngest, a boy maybe three or so watches me interact with Punky. The parents usher the kids back out, but the child turns to me and gives a wave and a firm "good-bye." Nice to see well adjusted children too.

Safe Inside - Meow Meow

There’s a notice up for volunteers at the shelter warning that a dog walker was assaulted and another threatened nearby. The description is vague enough to be scary, although it sounds like the guy is a local denizen. Troubled by the economy, mentally imbalanced, or some combination of – I mean, who attacks an apron clad dog walker? I feel bad for the volunteers, though I’m not extra worried; I’ve walked around the Mission for years and always with my urban gait (quick, directed, looking annoyed and without valuables).

Anyway, it’s safe inside with the cats. Seems like most of the visitors aren’t looking to adopt yet – there are some moms with kids and a group of young people cruising around pointing out different cats to each other. Also a couple different people specifically looking for kittens, and I explain about kitten season coming up later in the Spring.

I check in on Stubby, my five year old black and white Manx friend, who was rescued from an outdoor colony. When I first met her she was super shy and preferred to stay hidden. They’ve stuck a big pillow in her hiding spot though, and she’s gotten more confident.

She hops out to sit on my lap for a bit, then chase a toy. She’s a funny, goofy girl, soft, with a pretty white stripe up her nose, and that tiny stumpy tail. Not the world’s most cuddly cat, but she’s getting there. She’s definitely entertaining.

I keep watching her from across the hall with big lovey long hair boy Meow Meow. He's a friendly six year old who likes to look out his window at the sidewalk below. He tries to be a lap cat, although he's a bit big to fit comfortably for both of us.

A magenta haired staffer goes in and starts up the special cat video on Stubby’s TV. Many of the cats ignore the TVs, but Stubby is transfixed, she hunkers down like it’s her favorite show.

Meow Meow too -- he stands at his door staring at the chattering birds and squirrels, making his own little chirping noises through a clenched mouth. Stubby leans out farther and farther from her perch, eyes on the screen.

Outside, the wind is picking up, and more rain’s on the way. Not to mention the attack man. Stubby’s got to be pretty psyched – in from the elements, with televised birds to watch from a warm cushioned bed.