THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, February 25, 1996 TAG: 9602230155
SECTION: VIRGINIA BEACH BEACON PAGE: 07 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Guest Columnist
SOURCE: BY DORIS C. BAKER
LENGTH: Medium: 82 lines
Long curved claws in need of a scratching post tugged at my jacket, trying to pull me closer. Blackie was so excited at the possibility of finding a friend, his paw stretched out between the bars of his cage as far as it would go.
I was looking for a friend's lost tabby cat in the Virginia Beach Animal Control shelter. Blackie wasn't him.
``You're such a beautiful baby,'' I crooned in my best cat voice, tickling his chin. He tried to turn a somersault and failed. The space between the food and water and crunched newspaper was too small for a 1-year-old cat to turn a somersault. His claws grabbed my finger begging me to stay. There were so many cats in cages around him that needed comforting. As I looked back, his paw reached out again, imploring.
Five days later, I went back to Animal Control to look again for the missing Tabby. Blackie was still there but this time no paw reached out to me. A small, soft ball that no longer interested my own spoiled feline was in my purse and I rolled it into his cage. For a second I wasn't sure it was Blackie. He put out a tentative paw barely touching the ball and then stayed slumped in the back of the cage, listless, eyes dull, his fur no longer glossy inviting a caress. Blackie was on Death Row and he knew it.
The big fluffy cat with the fierce tiger eyes was already gone, the one that was dangerous to handle. I didn't dare ask if anyone had come to claim her.
I was still hanging around, wanting to go but unable to leave, when a girl who was cleaning the area volunteered there was a lonesome kitten in E4. She swung open the door of a cage where loud howls were coming from a tiny striped creature curled up tight in an empty water bowl, one of two in her cage. Her voice was twice as big as she was. I lifted her out and she snuggled under my chin, nibbling my ear.
Only one other person looking for his lost cat was walking around the cages. Hoping to ``sell'' this adorable fluff in my arms, I ventured, ``Isn't she a sweet ball of fur?''
No luck. He didn't even answer.
Steve Snyder, one of two supervisors at the center, says spring and summer can be overwhelming. During those seasons more than 50 or 60 animals are brought in every day. The problem is keeping enough personnel to take care of the workload. Two of the staff are on permanent disability from injuries; another position is frozen and only one slot is being filled. The shortage may worsen if others leave the staff and their positions are frozen in the city budget.
The latest available summaries from 1994 show that about 80 percent of the dogs brought to Virginia Beach Animal Control were picked up by owners or adopted. The percentage for cats is much lower and they are more prolific, capable of producing three litters a year.
Only 631 cats were picked up by owners or adopted, leaving 3,087 cats that had to be euthanized as were the remaining dogs after five days, or 10 if the animals are wearing a collar. This is a state regulation. Above the door leading to the kennels is a large sign, ``If your animal had on its city license, it would be home now.''
During 1994 owners turned in 909 animals, and 12,931 strays were picked up by Animal Control. It's hard to deal with abstract numbers. Deficits in the zillions have deadened our senses and our eyes glaze over. Blackie is the only way to halfway understand how much sadness is in these figures, which are only a small part of the big picture in Hampton Roads.
I failed you, Blackie, but there are reasons. It's only by the grace of the Almighty and a mortgage bank letter that I can keep a cat in my condo. In addition, any cat who tried to invade her territory would be in deep trouble.
Why don't people spay/neuter their pets? Why do they spend big money for highly bred animals when all these forlorn creatures in shelters are dying for lack of love and a good home? Why do people move away and throw out their pets to fend for themselves? We have laws that prohibit people from deserting their children. Pets are even more defenseless than children.
What can be done? Education helps and not just in schools. Children learn attitudes very early. Unless more parents teach the next generation respect for animals and responsibility for their care, shelters will always be crowded with our best friends. MEMO: Doris C. Baker is a free-lance writer who lives in Virginia Beach.
by CNB