In Petaluma, cats are cats. If they are homeless, the shelter will house them until we can find a great home for them. So, where do ‘feral’ cats fit into that picture? Technically, they’re not homeless. They live in our community, help us all with rodent control and seem to do pretty well, especially if their community helps them out a bit. At the shelter, we do our part with spay and neuter, vaccines, food (when we have extra), and release back to their ‘home’. Forgotten Felines of Sonoma County supports us in this effort with education and training.

The terms ‘feral’ and ‘homeless’ just don’t seem to fit this population of felines. Community Cats explains the role they play for us and the role we play for them.

Who Cares?

Yesterday, a man called the shelter with questions about a feral cat who’d given birth in his yard. He explained how he wanted to help this family and wanted to keep them safe, but just didn’t know how to do the right thing. He was afraid that they’d get injured by predators, or that mom might move them and he’s lose track of them. As we spoke, I realized that without even knowing it, this man embodied the idea behind Community Cats.

He came in to borrow a trap from us, got some expert advice about putting the babies and food and water in the trap and then waiting for the mom to tend to her kittens. She would be trapped, voila, safe mama and kittens!

He called this morning to tell me the whole family is safe in the trap. He brought them to the shelter, where we will house them until we can spay the mom on Friday.

Next Steps

Now, we need your help. Mom will be spayed on Friday, and then the whole family needs to go to a foster home on Saturday. The foster will care for them for the next few weeks. Once the babies can eat on their own, we’ll remove them from their mom and return her to her community. The kittens will then be raised with plenty of human contact so that they can be spayed and neutered to be adopted into loving homes.

Who’s ready for a challenge?

A few days later, at pickup, this woman cornered me, telling me that all her daughter talked about, was my son. One mystery solved. Then she said, ‘You’re not from California and you look smart. Let’s take a walk after drop off tomorrow.” Our friendship was born, or rather launched!

We didn’t start with small talk; it was like we knew each other from some other place and time. We also didn’t talk about kids – a welcome respite from all my other interactions at that time. Our children’s lives wove in and out with shared schools and experiences. We grew to love each others’ kids, but they were not the reason for our friendship and they did not rule it. We walked and talked and helped each other figure out the meaning of our lives at any given moment. Something only a mature person would demand of me.

When I saw Sioux’s photo online, I melted. She oozed wisdom and serenity – two things sorely lacking in my day-to-day. She reminded me of my childhood dog. She reminded me of my friend, who would accept no excuses or small talk, she said, ‘Let’s get to the heart of it, please.’

I dreamed about Sioux and schemed of ways to bring her to me. I followed every move that was made on her behalf to rescue her from a sanctuary that needed help. I inquired, I tried to make space, I wished for only one thing for Christmas. But I couldn’t get it all together and promise her a better life. Yet she wouldn’t leave my thoughts and finally everything fell into place.

Serendipity and one hour’s notice brought Sioux up from the south on New Year’s Eve. After a long car ride, she settled into my house, slept a little and had a calming affect on all of my dogs. Something magical. But her hips aren’t in great shape (mine either, baby!), so the back stairs are too much for her. She’s at my neighbor’s house now. It’s not the end of her story; she has lots left to give. I’m just glad I get to be a part of it.

Seniors. There’s just something about them that makes you get to the heart of it.

One of those tasks is bookkeeping. It has to be done and it has to be accurate. On this Friday evening after Thanksgiving, after a very successful adoption day at the shelter, after the holiday is moving into the weekend, I sit down with the numbers and start to enter.

A $5 donation caught my eye. It’s not unusual for us to get donations of every size. Quite often, folks will round off their payment and call the difference a donation. We are thankful for every penny. But this 5 dollars is from one of our young supporters. His family fosters for us in their spare time. And they don’t have much of that – both parents work full time, splitting shifts so that this young guy doesn’t have to spend much time without them. They are a generous bunch. And 5 bucks is a lot of money to a young kid. That’s probably 5 weeks of allowance, only part of a movie ticket, enough candy to get you through that movie. It’s a big deal to a kid and it’s a big deal to us.

Thank you, buddy, for your generosity, for your example, for your great big heart!

The story began when we received a call about a “mangled kitten” that needed rescue.  Animal Control Officer Jason Pietsch rushed to the plant and skillfully rescued the kitten. His rear leg had been crushed in some machinery and his eyes were closed from infection. Officer Pietsch brought him to our clinic at the shelter and he was seen by Dr. Lea Bove and staff. He was quickly cleaned up and assessed. Dr. Bove determined he needed surgery to remove the leg but he was very small to undergo such a surgery. We had no choice; he had to have the leg removed.

Hope came through the surgery ok but immediately afterward his tiny heart stopped beating. Dr. Bove and staff quickly switched gears from surgery team to trauma team. She proceeded to work on restarting his heart while staff performed CPR. I watched as they squeezed his tiny chest and pumped air into his lungs for about 5 minutes. Finally he started to breathe on his own. We were all relieved but worried he might have brain damage. A staff member took him home and nursed him back to health. Hope is now strong and playful. He has no idea that he is any different than the other kittens.

Hope embodies exactly what we want to provide to every animal that comes to our shelter – the chance to live. We do not want to ever have to say no to treatment that is necessary for our animals. This of course costs money. Our veterinary fund is our single largest cost in terms of budget items, and the most critical to the health of our animals.
Will you please take the time now to write a check to support the “Hope Fund?”

As always we appreciate the love and support you continue to show the animals that many have forgotten. Together we will reach a day where all animals are valued and appreciated.

Thank you for caring,

Jeff Charter

Executive Director PASF

(DonateNow button is right up top! Or stop by with your donation – we’d love to show you around the shelter.)

In Petaluma, we share our suburban space with plenty of wildlife. Our officers are trained to help wild animals in need, but most often, that means, back away and let nature take its course. The animals have been here a lot longer than we have and they know what they’re doing.

But please call us if you have questions about how our human and animals worlds overlap and how we can all get along. Officer Pietsch and Officer Scott are here to serve!

Photo credit: Jason Pietsch, no animals were harmed, or even touched…, all in a day’s work.

Kiko was my first dog and is my ‘forever’ dog. She touched a part of me that I didn’t know existed. She started so much. Then Floyd came along, a little bundle of Malamute fur. They spent their lives together, let me take them on hiking adventures, and then waited patiently for their walks when my human babies took up so much of my time.

Then one day Kiko left us and Floyd freaked out, escaping the yard for the first time, looking for companionship. The moms at the park didn’t think he was a good match for their toddlers. So very quickly, Charlie (the chocolate lab who grew into a shepherd/dobie, another story…) came to live with us. And just as quickly, Floyd started to dwindle.

So, Charlie and I went to the park every morning at 6am, to run off some of that young dog energy. We met Gigi and John. Gigi taught Chief to play fetch. Jon taught me that headlamps are very useful when locating dog poop in the dark. Ruby and Jennifer, Luna and Matt – a nice way to start the day.

Fast forward 5 years, we’d all gone our separate ways by now, perhaps running into each other at school or the grocery store, or the dog park. I happened to walk up front at the shelter today to ask a question, when I discovered John renewing Gigi’s license! We caught up on the kids and the dogs and life. He said that they’d moved into a new house and had a rodent problem. I said I had a rodent solution: a barn cat. He said that his wife and kids have been bugging him about getting a cat.

Wrangler came into our shelter kinda wild, so he entered our barn cat program. Feral cats get euthanized in most shelter. But in Petaluma, we call these guys Community Cats. A cat’s a cat’s a cat and we will find the right home for every cat. In the last 2 months, we have adopted (free of charge) about 20 community cats. Most have gone into barns where they can continue their career in pest control. Once out of the shelter environment, some of these cats actually even start to affiliate with people.

John took a picture of Wrangler. We talked some more and he said he’d let me know. Half an hour later, the whole family was back to meet Wrangler! They got a lesson in how to acclimate a Community Cat into their home, went home to prepare and wait for tomorrow when Wrangler will start his new life!

Thank you, Kiko. Because that’s how a dog can save an ‘unadoptable’ cat.

I’m grateful to Paula and Fred for opening their home to him for exercise and to play with his brother. You should have seen those two. They ran around the pool, fell in a few times, swam to the edge, got out and did it all over again. I tried to get photos or video, but I was laughing too hard and trying to stay out of the way. These puppies (that’s how I’ll always think of them) are rambunctious and big and gangly. When you’re with any of them, you just have to smile.

They started life almost 3 years ago on a concrete patio in Salinas. 32 degrees. No wonder one of them didn’t make it. But the other 11 found their way to my laundry room – now, forever known as the puppy palace. The rest is history.

But is it? I have a feeling these big brutes will keep showing up for play dates, or in need of help or something for many years to come.

For now, Roscoe is home and happy and loved. That’s what a dog needs.

I agreed to foster this litter with their mom on New Year’s Day 2010. Why not?! How could I know they would have such a huge impact. http://fosterpuppies-sue.blogspot.com/  They were 2 pounds, 3 weeks old when they came to live with me. They were cute and wiggly and slept a lot. That all changed on Day 2. Then on each subsequent day, they changed even more. Suddenly, they were 8 weeks old and ready for their forever homes. And not a moment too soon.

They all found homes, except for Chief. We kept that dude. And I continued my journey down positive-training-lane.

Then one day, I found myself back at the shelter, training shelter dogs. Fun, interesting, rewarding. Who walks through the door? One of my puppies.

Zorr was 9 months old, lots of energy, crazy. I understood perfectly because I had Chief and was walking him twice a day, throwing in obedience sessions about 5 times a day. It was a lot of work, but it had to be done or one of us would have lost our sanity. Zorr lived at the shelter for a few weeks, but I spent every extra moment with him. He was adopted to a wonderful family who spotted him downtown while I was walking him, trying to give him exposure and exercise and training all at the same time. Zorr became Zee and now lives with a boy and his family.

So when Roscoe showed up on facebook, I wanted to hate his family. What kind of people give up their dog? What brings a person to just walk away from a living, breathing, loving, needy dog?

Roscoe’s family had been trying to sell their house for a year. Suddenly a buyer showed up, paid cash and wanted them out in 7 days. That means out, now. Everything: family photos, furniture, memories and of course, the family dog.

I approached the house, didn’t want to be there. The teen-age daughter and dad were throwing stuff into boxes and packing the pickup truck. I just wanted to take the dog and leave. While they tried to find the vet records and bag up his toys, I noticed that my kitchen has the same tile counter as theirs; they sit on the same white plastic chairs out back that I have on my deck; and we have the same pointer/lab mix dog.

I grabbed Roscoe’s stuff, leashed him and headed for my car. “I’m just going to take him now; I’ll find him a great home.” The dad turned away, his whole body shook as I started down the stairs. His daughter kissed Roscoe, told him to be a good boy and sobbed, waved me away. Roscoe bounced into my car, unaware that his adventure would take him away from his family, forever.

On my way to the shelter, I had to stop 3 times – it’s hard to drive when you’re crying. Each time, Roscoe put his head on my shoulder, licked my face.

This morning, Roscoe was running on his 2 acres, visiting the neighbor dog, checking back in with his dad for a cookie. Tonight, he’s sleeping in a kennel at the shelter. I took him out tonight to swim with one of his brothers. That family is going to help me exercise this boy and get him into his new home as soon as possible.

We are all just one step away from giving up our family dog. It’s not our place to judge. We’re here to help. I’m grateful to facebook for letting me know that one of my puppies needed my help and I’m grateful to be back at the shelter to offer that help.

Roscoe, Chief, Newt, Ava, Zee, Einstein, Emma, Bailey, and the other 3 will always have a soft place to land.

“MOOOOOOOOM, where are they? Mom, they were here last night.”

As a foster for the shelter, this is really something you never want to hear. And you never want to hear such panic in your kid’s voice.

My son is 12, at an age where he likes to play tricks on me. He’s even become a master at the double-trick. He came home from school last week to tell me that the week-long trip to Yosemite had been canceled because of that deadly virus. I played along until he said that he was just joking. That started a great conversation about what he would experience on that trip. Then he said that it actually had been canceled. Back and forth, “wanna bet”, he produced the written documentation from the school, I was out 5 bucks.

But ‘the kittens are gone’ was different. They really were not in the crate. They were not behind the washer (not that they could even get there, but isn’t that where you’d look?). They were not anywhere and it was silent.

Mama Crystal was not concerned. She was winding her slim body between my feet just like every other morning, expecting attention and of course, food.

“Ok, let’s think about this. They could not have escaped from the house, there are only 2 rooms they could be in, we’ve looked in here, let’s look in the garage.” Then I heard a tiny meow, and some grey fluff emerged. All 6 kittens were snuggled up in a tiny box, under a pallet, behind a pile of junk, in the farthest corner of the garage. What? Why?

We pulled them out, put them back into the crate, restoring order to the world.

Finally, we figured it out. We’d had a visit from a skunk in the middle of the night. The dogs had been barking and restless, the odor was overpowering. While we all lost sleep, Crystal knew just what to do. Instinct kicked in and she knew that she needed to save her babies.

Life with animals. And boys. Time for this mom to have another cup of coffee.