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Chapter 26. “Be Careful of What You Wish For”
1994 was an eventful year.
Anita, Tony and I met with the owner of a pet supply store on East 88th Street and were able to secure an arrangement to show cats for adoption on Saturdays. New Yorkers for Companion Animals also received its Not-For-Profit papers in May of 1994. Tara was coming home from college for the summer and so, in May of ’94, I felt finally, that things were beginning to fall into place. I looked forward to more in the ways of outside support for our work and also to spending some quality time with my daughter.
Bambi, the little Husky mix I had rescued and briefly fostered was adopted, as well as a number of cats I had rescued off the streets of Harlem. Tara was pleased to find our in-house animals below ten. But, if there was an illusion that things were getting easier, it did not last long. We were in the middle of the Memorial Day weekend when I received a very distressing call.
The young woman’s name was Laura and she told me of a number of cats who had been abandoned in am empty house in Maspeth, Queens after the owners moved. “Did you call the ASPCA about the situation?” I asked her. “This is a situation too big for our small organization to handle.” Laura told me that the ASPCA was contacted, but they failed to do anything about the cats and the house was boarded up and slated to be demolished. Most of the cats had been tossed out and were living in the yards outside the house. She was leaving food out for them, but didn’t know what else to do.
The only idea I could come up with was to contact the media. “It’s a long shot, but perhaps if some coverage is given to the story, some people might step up to help,” I told Laura. “I will see what I can do and get back to you.”
It was Sunday of a major holiday weekend. Most media operates on skeletal staff during such times. I made numerous calls to report the “story” and was quickly dismissed by most of the media outlets. A staffer at ABC News actually laughed at me. “Lady, you think that’s a story? You’ve got to be kidding!”
I was very discouraged before I made my final call to CBS news. But, to my amazement the Assignment Editor at CBS was very interested. “Where is the exact location?” She asked me. “We can send a crew out there in twenty minutes. Can you meet us there?”
It was like I was shot out of a cannon. I quickly called Laura and then had to run out the door, grab a cab and race to Maspeth. “Quick as you can!” I yelled to the cab driver, my heart racing.
The camera crew was already there and setting up as the cab sped up to the dilapidated, boarded up house. At least 15 to 20 cats could readily be seen hanging around outside the house. Most were scrounging for the last bits of food Laura had just left for them.
A young, dark-haired and very attractive reporter came up to me with a microphone. “Are you Patty Adjamine?” she asked, reading from scribbled notes on a pad. “Yes,” I answered breathlessly, now remembering that I had barely brushed my hair and had no makeup on when I left the house at blistering speed. God, I must look a mess, I thought!
I never thought they would rush a camera crew to the spot so fast. Indeed, I didn’t think anyone would cover the story!
A camera rolled as the reporter asked me questions. “What is your goal for these cats,” she queried. “We need foster homes. We need adopters. And we will need funding to get all these cats vetted and neutered,” I stammered. Within minutes the CBS crew was done and quickly packed up to move on to the next story. “You think it will make the news?” I asked the pretty reporter. “Its too late for the 6 O’clock, but maybe the 11 PM edition” she answered briskly and then she was back in the truck and gone in a flash. I stayed around Maspeth and talked to Laura trying to get a better gage of the situation. It was worse than I thought. The cats ranged in ages from cats to kittens and at least a couple of the females looked very pregnant. If we saw 15 to 20 cats now, there had to be at least 30 – and more on the way. We did not have time to waste. “Can you foster any of these cats?” I asked Laura. “We need to pick up the pregnant cats as soon as possible. They are priority.”
Laura Massey was a short, attractive, dark haired woman about 25 years of age with an apartment close to the abandoned house, a car and a sincere desire to help the cats. She agreed to take one of the pregnant cats. I would take the other. As far as the rest of the cats, well much depended on how much outside help we could garner. We both had to wish for a good story on the 11PM CBS news that night. It was our only hope.
The story of the abandoned Maspeth cats was not only covered on CBS that evening, but was, in fact, the lead story on the 11-O’Clock local news. The full interview with me was aired, as well as extensive footage of the confused cats lingering around the boarded up property. It was a forlorn picture. My pleas for help were accompanied by closing words from the reporter giving viewers my home phone number. No sooner had the report finished, that my phone was literally ringing off the hook. I spent the next three hours answering one call after the other. I didn’t even have the time to say “Goodnight” to my daughter, who, after two hours of a constantly ringing phone, finally gave up and went to bed.
Memorial Day of 1994 witnessed me answering several hundred calls from concerned viewers of the CBS report. Some people called to express sorrow. Some called to tell me of abandoned animals and strays in their areas. A very few offered foster or possible adoption. Most offered to send a donation. I learned quickly how to talk fast and spurt our mailing address in less time than it takes to boil an egg. Even so, I could tell there were perhaps hundreds of other callers who never got through, as I could only personally answer so many calls. I was totally exhausted and spent by the end of the day. Whatever promises I had made to Tara to do something on Memorial Day were completely obliterated and lost in the mad haze of a constantly ringing phone and dozens of messages on my answering machine in the little time I dared to move away from it.
It all reminded me of the phrase, “Be careful of what you wish for. You might get it.”
I wished for a good report on the cats. I got that and was now drowning in it.
Little did I know at the time: That was only the beginning.