I was working at my volunteer job, socializing cats at the local animal shelter, when I noticed that we had a new kitten in with the name of Phil. A young couple entered and began examining our kittens, when suddenly I heard one of them say, “Phil? His first name is Agent!”

Unsurprisingly, Phil was swiftly adopted.

There’s an animal shelter we used to frequent a few blocks away from my house. The place had a prominent blackboard in the entrance announcing any upcoming events that might interest people, like adoption days or charity drives.

One day, however, when I arrived, I advised one of the employees to do something about the new announcement. It read, in big letters, “Adoption Saturday,” but underneath that, someone had written, in smaller letters, “Yummy meat pies on Sunday!”

(I am a volunteer at a no-kill pet shelter. A few weeks ago, a couple came in with the angriest cat we had ever seen. Along with a severe case of mange, he was also missing his right eye. The couple explained that their neighbors had moved and left the cat locked inside a junker car parked behind their house. Even with every volunteer working to rehabilitate him, “One-Eyed Willy” proves to be a difficult case; he bites and scratches, yowls constantly, and does not get along with other male cats. We resign to having him as a permanent resident. One week, I arrive to find that One-Eyed Willy is missing from the cat room. A fellow volunteer explains that he’s been adopted over the weekend. The general consensus is that he has been taken in as a charity case and will be returned when the new owner finds him too difficult to handle. Terrified that whoever this person is will ruin a month of hard work, I can do nothing but wait until they return for his neutering appointment in two weeks. I am working the front desk when a young woman approaches me. She does not have a kennel, but has a cat tucked into her jacket.)

Woman: “Hi! I’m here to drop off Creampuff for his appointment?”

(As any adopted cats are referred to by their new names, it takes me a second to realize that she’s holding One-Eyed Willy! He is purring up a storm, curled up in her arms like a baby. While we go over the paperwork, I notice that he is wearing a hand-knit vest to cover his mange spots. With my heart already melting, I get talking to her.)

Me: “So, has he been behaving himself?”

Woman: “Oh, he’s the best cat in the world! I have a teensy bit of trouble sometimes when I need to go to the store, though.”

(She unzips her jacket and sets One-Eyed Willy on the counter. Immediately, he begins to whine like a baby. She picks him up and he stops.)

Woman: *while giggling and smothering him in kisses* “It’s a good thing I work from home, or I’d be evicted!”

(It isn’t easy working at a shelter, but times like this make it all worth it!)

(I work in an animal shelter. I’m out walking one of the rescues, a beautiful black and white pit bull who just loves meeting new people. This is probably the friendliest dog I have ever met, and one who has bonded with me over two months.)

Little Girl: “Puppy!”

Mother: “Oh, no, honey, don’t go near that; you might get bitten.”

Me: “I really appreciate you not letting your daughter run right up to her, but if she would like to pat Jazz, she’s definitely welcome to.”

Mother: “Oh, no, never. I saw one of those on TV once; it mauled somebody. I will not allow that beast to hurt my precious little angel. Maybe if it were a beagle, but not that monster.”

Me: “Oh, I understand the fear of pits for sure, but I assure you, Jazz is a really good girl. She loves children.”

(Jazz lays down and rolls onto her back as I scratch her belly.)

Woman: “How can you touch that thing without being afraid? It could bite your hand off!”

Me: “Jazz and I are best buddies; I’ve been with her since she got here. Now, I don’t want to scare you with her anymore, so I’ll continue going this way. The shelter is back the other way a little bit.”

(I continue my walk into the woods, where there are a nice set of trails. The customer decides to yell out to me.)

Woman: “It’s a monster! It could hurt you very badly. I suggest you leave it in the woods. Tie it to a tree and never come back!”

(I ignore her and continue my walk. When I return to the building, I put Jazz outside in one of the pens and walk in to return the leash. I see the woman and her daughter looking at the different dogs with the shelter manager. She spots me out of the corner of her eye.)

Woman: “Oh, it’s you. I’m going to guess you didn’t leave that monster out in the woods, did you?”

Manager: “The monster?”

Woman: “Yes, this boy had a pit bull. I told him he should just tie it to a tree and leave, but I guess he decided not to.”

Manager: “Yeah, I’m sorry, but suddenly all of our dogs have been adopted already. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Woman: “Is this about the pit bull? I’d never hurt an animal, but I think you should put a bullet in the head of every one of those.”

Manager: “Out.”

(The woman’s name was put on the cannot-adopt list, and to my knowledge never came back. I will never understand why this woman would say any of that, especially in front of her daughter, but I suppose that’s one less neglected dog in someone’s house.)

During a recent wildfire, a group I volunteer with is tasked with sheltering over 1,000 animals whose owners have been evacuated from the fire zone, as well as a couple hundred animals who have been brought into the shelter by fire, police, and other emergency workers. We immediately try to match those lost animals with their humans and reunite the extended family.

For about every hundred people looking for their lost pet, we match one very happy family. A mother and daughter couple come to the shelter looking for their lost cat. We start with a picture and try to match with an animal in the shelter to avoid crowds in the building.

English is the mother’s second language, and she is having some difficulty explaining the color and breed of her missing cat. After a couple of minutes, the mother and daughter start speaking an Asian dialect I can sort of understand, but can not speak. The daughter, upset that her mother dragged her down to the shelter to find her missing cat tells her mother, “Just find a picture of a cat you like and I will tell them it is yours.”

Nope, time to let them speak to someone with a badge.