Cat-filled bus tools around in search of purr-fect homes
By Kristin Dizon, P-I reporter All day Tuesday, Henry DelleChiae had been keeping a secret from his girlfriend.
And he'd been telling lies.
He had asked Laurie Conklin to meet him for lunch in Fremont, after a meeting there. There was no meeting, but there was a pug- nosed yellow school bus parked on 36th Street, which Conklin cluelessly walked by twice after DelleChiae guided her there.
What she didn't know was that they'd come to the bus for a very special Christmas present: a cat.
The little bus could have been named the Meow Mobile or the Cat Car, but the Northwest's first mobile adoption center is called Whiskers on Wheels (WOW). Run by the non-profit, all-volunteer folks at Whisker City, an overspill shelter for cats, WOW has been causing spontaneous eruptions of smiles and good cheer wherever it goes.
The bus, which has room for 22 kitties, is outfitted with three- story cages lined with cushy fleece rugs, litterboxes, food, water and ample toys. Its narrow aisle makes it difficult for two people to pass at once. Purchased for $1,000, the former Yelm school district bus gets six miles to the gallon. It costs about $5,200 to run it for a month.
WOW's goal is to raise $10,000 and find good homes for 30 cats in its first campaign, Dec. 4 through January 2. So far, about $3,000 has come into the coffers and 20 cats have traded their mobile home for a terrestrial one.
"We've had nothing but positive response," says April Brown, founder of WOW and Whisker City. "And the cats love the bus. They just love it."
WOW parks in front of welcoming businesses, such as pet stores and veterinary clinics.
Last Tuesday, the bus was in Fremont at Railey's Leash and Treat, a hip, urban pet salon full of fashionable items and natural pet treats. Owner Mark Smith said customers appreciated the concept.
"This is such a unique way to do it. This is totally my style," he said. "It's festive and inviting."
Red and silver Christmas bulbs and glass icicles dangle from the ceiling of the bus. Adding to the festive theme are tinsel and fake green garlands. Little paper stockings fill the windows. A portable generator fuels a heater for the cats, as well as a CD player from which a brassy version of "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" and other holiday tunes play.
The cats seem to dig their digs. Many have sob stories: Their owners may have died or gone to jail or become addicted to drugs or been deployed to Iraq. Or their family may have moved, lost a job or become overwhelmed with a new baby.
"The easiest relationship to begin and end is with a pet," said Brown, who bankrolls the operation with her husband Mike Brown. "Really good people have to give up pets all the time."
Though the bus does not take in cats, Brown and her partner, Brenda Anderson, made an exception this day after numerous pleas. A woman had died and her two 12-year-old cats were being fed by relatives every few days. They drove in from Issaquah, delivering the scared felines in duct-taped cardboard carriers.
"We take them for the rest of their lives, no questions asked," Brown said. "We want them to come to us. We want them to tell us why it's not working out."
Many cats arrive with marginal social skills, but blossom into happy, well-adjusted felines under Whisker City's nurturing care. Whisker City has a waiting list that is twentysomething long for people who wish to give up their pets.
Feline overpopulation is the reason why a woman who comes on the bus looking for a cat to breed with her "black alley cat" is told they can't consider any adoption until her own cat is spayed.
All day, people stop and tap the windows in a game of finger tag with a paw on the other side of the glass. Some peer in hopefully, wondering what this is all about.
"You wanna come in?" Anderson asked one lady. The woman's eyes got big and she smiled and said, "Yeah."
"I'm not adopting," she added. "I just love cats."
There were many like her, looking for some quality kitty love or the chance to talk in a baby voice to a furball. Or simply to share kitty stories.
"I'm 39 and they call me the crazy cat lady," said one woman, who owns nine cats. "I didn't even have to reach 50 to be called that."
Those looking for a cat often have precise ideas of what they want. One woman was seeking a pair of sisters, in January, with tortoiseshell coats.
Betty Drury was on a mission, too. "I want a short-haired, orange male tabby," she said.
She spotted Thor, who fit the bill perfectly, then learned he was hobbled by a broken pelvis. Now healed, he is still quite wary of people. Brown and Anderson are very honest about a kitty's circumstances, wanting to make a good match. They try to interest her in Lucas, a sweet sleepaholic who has the right markings, except for a white chest and paws. But the coloring just won't do.
Drury had to put her own cat of more than 20 years to sleep earlier this year.
"Then I said, no more cats, but you can only live so long without a cat," she said.
Drury put in an application for adoption, asking for a call if the right cat comes along.
On the sidewalk, a man stared at Mariah, a 3-year-old tubby gray tabby. "I love that cat," he mouths through the window, pointing at her. When he comes in, she meows charmingly at him. Mariah belonged to a schizophrenic man who lost his home. He left ample food out for her at all times, explaining Mariah's heft, guesstimated at about 20 pounds.
Mark Erickson, 22, grew up with a fat cat.
"I'd take really good care of her and make her lose some weight," he said. "She just kind of stared at me for a while. We have a connection." But Erickson is leaving for Christmas and can't adopt on the spot. He plans to return when he's back in town.
Mariah's beguiling green eyes also attract Laurie Conklin, who must choose her present.
Whiskers on Wheels has been open for seven hours and, though more than 30 people have visited, not a single cat has been adopted.
Conklin had cats her entire life until about six years ago, when she moved into a place that didn't allow pets. For the past few years, she has been living with Henry DelleChiae, who owns 13 birds. For him, incorporating a cat into the household is a big gift.
Conklin picks up bulky Mariah. The first thing that spills from her lips is "holy-moly."
At the same time, DelleChiae holds Jasper, a soft orange teenager with yellow eyes. He passes the cat to Conklin, who says, "He's so light."
"Yeah, he's really loving, too," DelleChiae says, planting a kiss on Jasper's head.
"This is so hard," Conklin says.
Anderson asks hopefully, "Are you sure you don't need two? I think they would get along."
After a few minutes, Conklin says she has decided. "It's Mariah. I like her personality. She just seems so sweet." Anderson takes a picture of the adoptee with her new family, then puts her in a cardboard carrier. It's a tight fit.
Brown wishes Mariah farewell, saying, "I love you, honey. Yes, I do."
"Merry Christmas," says Conklin, carrying her Christmas present. She is smiling.
ABOUT WOW AND WHISKER CITY
Whisker City, an informal cat shelter in a private Shoreline home, was founded four years ago by April Brown, who has been rescuing animals for the past 14 years. Run entirely by seven unpaid volunteers as a non-profit on Brown's financing and a hodgepodge of donations, the facility was designed for 30 cats, but has housed as many as 168. It acts mostly as an overspill for other shelters and has a no-kill policy.
Whiskers on Wheels (WOW), the Northwest's first mobile cat adoption center, is one of Whisker City's outreach efforts. The cheery school bus parks at area businesses, by invitation, for the day and can hold 22 cats. The fee to adopt a cat is $85; a kitten is $95.
Brown, a professional auctioneer, hopes to eventually be able to pay two full-time employees. "We would like to see this bus sponsored," she said. "It's a really great opportunity for a business. It's a big, moving billboard."
For more information, visit www.whiskercity.com, where you also can make a donation, fill out an adoption questionnaire or apply to foster a cat in your home. You can also contact April Brown at 206- 542-9617.
(C) 2004 Seattle Post-Intelligencer. via ProQuest Information and Learning Company; All Rights Reserved
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