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GBAR's Adopt-a-thon a success
30 August 2010
Dropped by the Georgian Bay Animal Rescue's August Adopt-a-thon, Saturday. While I don't have the totals yet, the event was very successful, and several cats were adopted. What we intended as a few minutes' visit stretched into an hour or more, once we entered the cat room.
So many cats to greet, so many to fuss, so many to share a little moment with. And never enough time for them all.
Despite the event's success, there are still a lot of cats that need homes. Too many, really. That's because too many people don't spay or neuter their pets, and allow kittens to be born. Kittens always play with people's emotions and are far more likely to be adopted than adult cats. And the longer a cat stays in the shelter, the more likely it will never leave.
Mature cats are very hard to find homes for, since few people are willing to take the extra responsibility and older cat may bring. but these are often the most refined, most civilized, and least worrisome cats. They are usually the calmest, quietest and most affectionate, content to sleep at home in a little spot of sun, or share a lap when you're sitting on the couch.
Kittens, which delight by their crazy, frantic antics, are also a pain because they're so active, they climb everything, they have to be taught, they take and play with anything not nailed down, and they seem to be most active when you're asleep. Give me a cat who can sleep at my feet all night.
I was brought up as a child to have respect for pets, to be a responsible pet owner, and to show animals the same level of care and affection one showed siblings. I was taught that once we got a pet, it was our responsibility to care for it for the rest of its lives, and not dump it on someone else, or worse by the roadside, when it became inconvenient or the novelty wore off.
But that happens. A lot.
We spent over an hour greeting every cat, scratching a lot of heads, answering demands for attention and petting. We only left because Susan's allergy to cat dander built up to the point where she was feeling congested. Yes, she has allergies. That doesn't stop us from having four cats at home.
There are a lot of black cats in the shelter. Why black cats don't get adopted very quickly is beyond me. Surely no one today is still burdened by those silly but infectious medieval superstitions about bad luck or the claptrap about witches and demons. Black cats are often strikingly elegant, with their sleek, glossy fur and golden eyes in that inquisitive face. Why someone would not love that is beyond me. In fact, three of our cats are black, but it's really just coincidental.
Susan prefers black and white cats, and I have to admit I like their Japanese-pottery look. Tippy, our fourth cat, is black-and-white, but mostly black, with little white paws and a white brush at the tip of her tail. But I have no real preference, except perhaps a slight leaning towards those unwanted black cats.
That's Diego. He's an older, ginger tom, very calm, very affectionate, and very gentle. He's comfortable in the company of other cats, and unfazed by dogs. He likes people and company. He's been in the shelter since July 2008, and despite a few tries, hasn't found a permanent home.
We've had ginger cats; three in the past 20 years and they've all been wonderful. Beezer was a stray the folks at J&R Cycle were feeding outdoors, but as winter approached, wanted to find a home for. We took him and named him after my motorcycle-du-jour, a 1968 BSA Royal Star. He was a real rascal, full of life, but loving and affectionate. Although we try to keep our cats indoors, Beezer was a roust-about who needed to run outside. He died after being hit by a car a couple of years after we took him in, the only one we've ever lost that way.
Sam was an older ginger tom, a stray who showed up at our door one fall, and came in to live the rest of his life with us. He was at least 10, maybe 12 or even older when he appeared. He never strayed further than our porch where he liked to sleep in the sun. When he couldn't find sun, a warm lap was next in line. He couldn't walk well or far, and was stiff when he moved about and couldn't jump very far or high.
Someone snatched him and dumped him up the mountain one summer. We searched frantically for him around the neighbourhood, knowing he was limited to a few dozen feet on his own. A resident recognized his photo on the posters we put up. We picked him up after three weeks lost in the woods - barely alive, suffering from severe malnutrition and dehydration. It took a lot of care, and many vet bills, to restore his health. He stayed with us until he died of a stroke a year later. I never understood how anyone could be so cruel as to do that to an old, gentle pet. They must have taken him from our porch while he was sleeping. We never found out who did it, either, but several cats have also disappeared from the neighbourhood over the intervening years, some quite recently.
Percy was a regal sort of tom, an older white-and-ginger mix, big but reserved. Despite his size, he was gentle, soft, and quiet. He came from a friend who had other, younger cats in his household, and there was growing stress between Percy and the rest, to the point where Percy was showing signs of an impending nervous breakdown. So he came to our home, where we had as many cats, but they were a more peaceful lot. Percy's passive nature made him an easy fit in our home. He lived with us for the rest of his natural life.
That's Diego again, sprawled on the kitchen mat. As I write this, he's walking on my desk, checking out the piles of books and poking a paw into little nooks and crannies. We just couldn't leave him there in the shelter, so we went back, Sunday.
We've brought Diego home to see if he would fit into our menagerie, and if so, give him the home he deserves. He'll be an indoor cat, but like the rest of the crew, he'll have the house to roam around in and make his own. He won't want for care, food or affection. And we're pretty tolerant of cat behaviour, after so many decades of having cats in our lives.
So far, he's been an easy fit. The other cats are huffy, and a little hissy, but not aggressive, and Diego's so well socialized with other cats that he doesn't mind them at all. They'll all calm down in a day or two. Sophie, our dog, is curious about the newcomer, but she's calm and is lying near my chair as Diego explores. I think Sophie really wants to play with the cats, but doesn't understand her size difference.
Ah, he's moved to lie at the top of the stairs. So has Sophie. I wish I had my camera to catch this moment. Both are lying comfortably within inches of the other, watching the street and the front yard from the top of the stairs. I think he'll fit in just fine.
So many cats to greet, so many to fuss, so many to share a little moment with. And never enough time for them all.
Despite the event's success, there are still a lot of cats that need homes. Too many, really. That's because too many people don't spay or neuter their pets, and allow kittens to be born. Kittens always play with people's emotions and are far more likely to be adopted than adult cats. And the longer a cat stays in the shelter, the more likely it will never leave.
Mature cats are very hard to find homes for, since few people are willing to take the extra responsibility and older cat may bring. but these are often the most refined, most civilized, and least worrisome cats. They are usually the calmest, quietest and most affectionate, content to sleep at home in a little spot of sun, or share a lap when you're sitting on the couch.
Kittens, which delight by their crazy, frantic antics, are also a pain because they're so active, they climb everything, they have to be taught, they take and play with anything not nailed down, and they seem to be most active when you're asleep. Give me a cat who can sleep at my feet all night.
I was brought up as a child to have respect for pets, to be a responsible pet owner, and to show animals the same level of care and affection one showed siblings. I was taught that once we got a pet, it was our responsibility to care for it for the rest of its lives, and not dump it on someone else, or worse by the roadside, when it became inconvenient or the novelty wore off.
But that happens. A lot.
We spent over an hour greeting every cat, scratching a lot of heads, answering demands for attention and petting. We only left because Susan's allergy to cat dander built up to the point where she was feeling congested. Yes, she has allergies. That doesn't stop us from having four cats at home.
There are a lot of black cats in the shelter. Why black cats don't get adopted very quickly is beyond me. Surely no one today is still burdened by those silly but infectious medieval superstitions about bad luck or the claptrap about witches and demons. Black cats are often strikingly elegant, with their sleek, glossy fur and golden eyes in that inquisitive face. Why someone would not love that is beyond me. In fact, three of our cats are black, but it's really just coincidental.
Susan prefers black and white cats, and I have to admit I like their Japanese-pottery look. Tippy, our fourth cat, is black-and-white, but mostly black, with little white paws and a white brush at the tip of her tail. But I have no real preference, except perhaps a slight leaning towards those unwanted black cats.
That's Diego. He's an older, ginger tom, very calm, very affectionate, and very gentle. He's comfortable in the company of other cats, and unfazed by dogs. He likes people and company. He's been in the shelter since July 2008, and despite a few tries, hasn't found a permanent home.
We've had ginger cats; three in the past 20 years and they've all been wonderful. Beezer was a stray the folks at J&R Cycle were feeding outdoors, but as winter approached, wanted to find a home for. We took him and named him after my motorcycle-du-jour, a 1968 BSA Royal Star. He was a real rascal, full of life, but loving and affectionate. Although we try to keep our cats indoors, Beezer was a roust-about who needed to run outside. He died after being hit by a car a couple of years after we took him in, the only one we've ever lost that way.
Sam was an older ginger tom, a stray who showed up at our door one fall, and came in to live the rest of his life with us. He was at least 10, maybe 12 or even older when he appeared. He never strayed further than our porch where he liked to sleep in the sun. When he couldn't find sun, a warm lap was next in line. He couldn't walk well or far, and was stiff when he moved about and couldn't jump very far or high.
Someone snatched him and dumped him up the mountain one summer. We searched frantically for him around the neighbourhood, knowing he was limited to a few dozen feet on his own. A resident recognized his photo on the posters we put up. We picked him up after three weeks lost in the woods - barely alive, suffering from severe malnutrition and dehydration. It took a lot of care, and many vet bills, to restore his health. He stayed with us until he died of a stroke a year later. I never understood how anyone could be so cruel as to do that to an old, gentle pet. They must have taken him from our porch while he was sleeping. We never found out who did it, either, but several cats have also disappeared from the neighbourhood over the intervening years, some quite recently.
Percy was a regal sort of tom, an older white-and-ginger mix, big but reserved. Despite his size, he was gentle, soft, and quiet. He came from a friend who had other, younger cats in his household, and there was growing stress between Percy and the rest, to the point where Percy was showing signs of an impending nervous breakdown. So he came to our home, where we had as many cats, but they were a more peaceful lot. Percy's passive nature made him an easy fit in our home. He lived with us for the rest of his natural life.
That's Diego again, sprawled on the kitchen mat. As I write this, he's walking on my desk, checking out the piles of books and poking a paw into little nooks and crannies. We just couldn't leave him there in the shelter, so we went back, Sunday.
We've brought Diego home to see if he would fit into our menagerie, and if so, give him the home he deserves. He'll be an indoor cat, but like the rest of the crew, he'll have the house to roam around in and make his own. He won't want for care, food or affection. And we're pretty tolerant of cat behaviour, after so many decades of having cats in our lives.
So far, he's been an easy fit. The other cats are huffy, and a little hissy, but not aggressive, and Diego's so well socialized with other cats that he doesn't mind them at all. They'll all calm down in a day or two. Sophie, our dog, is curious about the newcomer, but she's calm and is lying near my chair as Diego explores. I think Sophie really wants to play with the cats, but doesn't understand her size difference.
Ah, he's moved to lie at the top of the stairs. So has Sophie. I wish I had my camera to catch this moment. Both are lying comfortably within inches of the other, watching the street and the front yard from the top of the stairs. I think he'll fit in just fine.
