When I submitted an application to volunteer at a local animal shelter, I thought I’d just be walking dogs outside – a good fit for my solitary nature. I couldn’t wait to let them out of their kennels to roam and sniff and enjoy some fresh air. That lasted two weeks.
Because where I was truly needed, it turned out, was the front desk. This was command central of a busy community hot spot, and way outside my comfort zone. I’d be answering phones, helping with adoptions, and doing intake on everything from chinchillas to fallen baby owls to sunburned pigs.
My first hurdle was the phone. I assumed callers’ questions would be along the lines of, “What are your hours today?” or “Do you have any calico kittens?”
Why We Wrote This
A novice volunteer discovers that the most unlikely creatures – and adopters – often carry the biggest lessons about compassion.
I assumed wrong. During any given shift, no two calls were ever alike. They ran the gamut from “Is it legal to shoot a wild boar with a bow and arrow?” to “How do I get a snake out of my garage?” to “There’s a skunk under my house, and I don’t want it to spray. What should I do?” My standard response became, “Hold, please.” These calls were above my pay grade (which was zero) and sent me running for the nearest vet tech or manager.
One thing I loved about my shifts, however, was never knowing who’d be there when I walked in. Like Delta the pig, who’d been found alone in a park, sunburned, eating weeds. Where else would a city girl like me get a chance to sit and bond with a 200-pound porker?
During the course of one afternoon, Delta knocked over trash cans, destroyed a bookshelf, and tried to eat my shoes. I was enchanted. When she spotted a feisty bulldog in the lobby, she knocked down a gate to come say hello. She ended up getting adopted by a woman who worked at a vet clinic.
I began to embrace my involvement with the community. Several people told me that they’d love to volunteer at the shelter but it would be too sad for them. While it’s true that many abandoned animals showed up in bad shape, and heartbroken people called trying to find a lost pet, it’s equally true that once we became involved, the animals were on their way to a better life.
Levi, an older cattle dog who was going deaf, had been at the shelter for several weeks when a man came in one day on his Harley. After a trial sleepover, he fell in love with this loyal old mutt and returned to fill out adoption papers. The dog loved riding on the motorcycle’s side cart with his new owner, who had a custom leather jacket made for Levi to match his own. I don’t know what this dog’s life was before, but I’m sure it didn’t involve hot wheels and sunglasses.
Courtesy of Courtenay Rudzinski
It was common for people who’d recently had a beloved pet pass to come in and donate their leashes, toys, and food.
One day, an older man who seemed heartbroken came in to donate his dog’s belongings. He said he’d never want another dog as he “couldn’t go through that again.” Just then, an adorable peagle (Pekingese mixed with beagle) came bounding into the front office to go for a walk.
It caught the eye of the man, whose face lit up as he started to smile. “Who is this?” he asked, as the puppy ran over to him. I didn’t always know how these stories would end. Sometimes I just got to witness the beginning.
My years spent volunteering at the animal shelter changed my life in countless ways. I’d gone into it hoping to meet some great dogs. But I also met some great people who renewed my faith in humanity.
A retired couple stopped in one day, and the woman said, “Show us the cat who’s been here the longest.” That was Bella, a sweet black-and-white feline who’d been living in a cage for 18 months. She’d gone on multiple sleepovers with different families but always came back.
As soon as we brought her out, the couple said, “We’ll take her.” She was adopted that day. They didn’t want the prettiest or most affectionate cat or a certain breed or color; they wanted the one who most needed a home. Angels walk among us, I thought.
My home life changed as well. A three-legged French bulldog named Sugar was found one morning in a parking lot and brought into the shelter. She had health issues and poor eyesight. The entire staff fell in love with her and encouraged me to adopt her. I did, and she returned with me each Tuesday to “work a shift” in my lap at the front desk.
Up until then, my family had only had a purebred. But now, three shelter dogs later, I’d never have anything but a rescue. I’m a sucker for a happy ending.
