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Chapter 41. The Dreaded "C" Word
"I'm really sorry, Patty. I can't make it to adopt Toto because my mother just had a stroke and I have to go to the hospital."
I received this call only a few days ago. Fifteen minutes before the woman was due to arrive at my home to officially adopt the dog she had met and said she wanted to adopt three days earlier. A call only twelve hours before confirmed the appointment and the intended adoption.
But, suddenly at the time of the adoption, her Mom had a stroke.
OK. How does one argue with something like that? After all, it could be true.
"I am really sorry to hear that, Adrienne," I told the caller. "Would you like to set up an appointment for another day?" But, even before I asked the question, I knew the answer would be a negative. "Well, not now. I'll get back to you," Adrienne told me. And of course that meant she never would.
We sometimes call this phenomenon "Runaway Adopters." As with "runaway brides," some people just have a problem with the dreaded "C" word.
Over the years, people have canceled adoption appointments at the last minute for everything from "Mom just had a stroke," to "I sprained my ankle on the way over," to "I just remembered I'm moving out of the country in two weeks."
Usually, its the people who sound the most promising over the telephone. They will tell you all about the dog or cat they had for 17 years and nursed through cancer or kidney disease. They will tell you how much they want to adopt "Fluffy" or "Max." They will happily and eagerly set up appointments to adopt. Runaway adopters are usually warm and friendly, charming and very animal experienced. The last people one would figure to do a sudden bail out.
But, if I had a dollar for every time someone promised us something only to come up with a sudden calamity or worse, seemingly falling off the planet without any word at all, I would be richer than Donald Trump.
Once when at Petco, a young, attractive woman approached us and told us she was eager to foster kittens. She seemed very sincere. Both Suzanna and I spent time with her, going over everything involved in foster. The next day, I went to CACC and rescued a litter of three five-week-old kittens. We provided the young woman with kitten food, a litter box, carrier and tons of information. She was delighted to take home the kittens. "Call me if you have any questions or problems," I told her.
The young woman never called, but a week later, she and her mother walked into Petco one afternoon with the cat carrier in hand and simply dropped it on the floor, about 20 feet from us. They then turned and hastily walked out of the store without a word. Suzanna and I ran immediately to the carrier, opened it to find the three kittens, all dirty, skinny and caked with poop.
So much for "wanting to help out."
Another time a well-meaning woman came to us looking to adopt a young, friendly cat. She had never had a cat before, but was eager to learn and experience. Again, my volunteers and I spent much time with the woman, giving her information and helping her with the supplies she needed to buy. She adopted a nine-month old, friendly neutered male cat from us.
At 3 AM the next morning, I received a hysterical call from the woman.
"Joey just tried to attack me in my bed!"
"What do you mean?" I asked her half-asleep.
"I moved my feet and he pounced on them! You need to get over here right now and pick up the cat! He ran out of my apartment and is somewhere in the building."
Apparently, the nutty woman ran out of her apartment screaming when the cat played with her feet under the sheets. A couple of neighbors, thinking the woman had been raped opened their doors to find out what was going on.
Fortunately, she lived only three blocks from me. At nearly 4 in the morning, I had to run over to her building with my dog, Fawn. I found the cat, cringing and terrified, at the top of the stairwell of the building leading to the roof.
In all the instructions we had given the woman on cats, it never occurred to me to tell her cats will sometimes play with people's feet under the sheets.
Common in the wild, wacky world of animal adoptions, are the people who call on an animal, but when advised to call the foster person to set up an adoption appointment, they never do. I never realized that dialing a second phone number was so challenging and exhausting.
Or, the people who leave a message expressing desire for a particular animal. I call the person back, get voice mail, leave a message and never hear from them again. "Desire" is obviously, a very fleeting thing.
Once, when Mary Evans fostered a Rottweiler for me, a seemingly wonderful lady called very interested in Patches. The woman told me how she had a Rottie for 14 years and was "heartbroken" on the dog's recent loss. I advised her to call Mary to set up an adoption appointment. She did.
Mary too, was impressed with the woman. "She sounds wonderful, Patty!" Mary cooed to me. "She's coming tomorrow at 2 O'Clock to see Patches."
But, the next day, Mary waited and waited. 2 O'Clock came and then 3 O'Clock and 4. But, no sign and no call from the "wonderful" woman who supposedly wanted to adopt Patches.
This one didn't even bother to come up with an excuse. She just fell off the planet.
Many, many times people have actually made adoption appointments, shown up and indicated they wanted to adopt the particular animal. But, then they suddenly inform us that they are "going on vacation" for three weeks, painting their house or in the process of moving. Can we "hold" the animal until whatever is completed? Of course we can't and don't. The object of rescue and adoption is to responsibly place animals as quickly as we can, so we can save others.
The one thing I have never been able to figure out, is why do so many people look at adoptable animals just before planning some major undertaking in their lives?
Certainly, the painting of the house, moving or going on vacation affords the perfect excuse for bail out or procrastination. But, then why do they ask us to "hold" the animal for them? Do the people already know it is impossible for us to "hold" an animal until someone gets their life together?
Is it all really a matter of fear?
They want to call and talk about animals. They want to look at animals. They want to think that they are adopting. But, when it comes right down to it, they just don't want to -- or can't bring the animal home.
And so at that point, grandma gets hit by a train or they just remember that trip to Siberia they are taking next week or their house was just swept up in a tornado.
Ah, that dreaded "C" word!
Commitment.