Friends in Need : Transients Say Pets Offer Companionship, Unconditional Love--and a Bit of Hope

If it weren’t for Stormy, Karla Leslein believes she would have gone over the edge, or maybe hurt someone. There have been times when Stormy was the only thing in the world that made Leslein feel like a human being.

During the worst of times, Stormy stood by Leslein night and day, even when the best that Leslein could offer was a shopping cart for a bed and a plastic bag for a roof.

Leslein is a homeless woman who, with her husband, finds shelter beneath freeways and bushes near the railroad tracks in the northern section of this city. Stormy is her year-old cat.

Sometimes they stay at the First Baptist Southern Church on Western Avenue, one of the few temporary shelters that allow transients and their pets to take refuge together during heavy storms. In better conditions, the church serves meals to the homeless on Wednesdays and Saturdays, but does not offer shelter. The church occasionally offers dry pet food to transients’ animals as well.

“I know there are those who say ‘Why are (the homeless) asking (us) for food and clothing, yet they are giving food to their animals?’ ” said Pastor Wiley Drake, who runs the shelter. “We try to strike a happy balance, because we’re aware of the emotional and psychological situation homeless people find themselves in.

“They feel rejected or unloved. Animals are unconditional in their love,” he said.

The homeless say feeding and sheltering their animals give them a chance to prove they are capable of caring for someone else despite their circumstances.

“Living on the streets depresses me more and more,” said Leslein, 44, as she watched Stormy nap in a shopping cart loaded with plastic bottles and mismatched clothes. “I can’t go to bed without her. It’s that little purring that puts me to sleep. They’re our security blankets. It’s basically our way of clutching on to reality, something we can hold on to.”

Leslein and her husband of 12 years, Robert Leslein, became homeless after Robert Leslein lost his job as a cook two years ago. They have been picking up soda cans and selling them for about $20 to $30 a day and trying to stay “out of sight, out of mind,” Robert Leslein said.

“Most homeless people will put their pets before themselves,” Robert Leslein said, as he allowed Stormy to climb on his shoulders and hide in his jacket.

“That cat eats better than we do,” Karla Leslein chimes in. “If we don’t have money for cat food, we take our food and feed her. I’d rather stay hungry than watch her starve.”

The charcoal-colored, mixed-breed cat, named for her resemblance to a tiny rain cloud, has been with the Lesleins since she was given to them as a kitten.

Many homeless people with pets say they pass up traditional shelters and food centers like the Red Cross or Salvation Army because of health and safety policies that preclude animals.

Church staff members say that homeless people who have animals tend to be more socially adjusted and considerate of rules. The animals seem to rekindle their hope in life.

“We live in perilous times,” said Donna Gifford, a volunteer at the church who sometimes gives cat food to the homeless. “Everyone has to feel like they have something that belongs to them. Caring for the pets helps them have an identity.”

Sixty-year-old Diane Grue has been homeless for about three years and considers her cat, Tiger, almost a child.

“I can relate to animals more than (to) a person,” Grue said.

Tiger faithfully stays home in Grue’s cardboard shelter--she won’t say precisely where--while Grue searches for soda cans to return for money to buy the five pounds of dry food and 20 cans of cat food Tiger eats each month. “(Tiger) has been with me through thick and thin. He’s like my own kid.”

Sharing their meager resources is not a sacrifice for homeless people who say that what the animals give them in return is priceless.

“I don’t need that much,” said Kerry Armstrong, a bearded former clerk who comes and goes with no possessions except his cat, Tiger II-II, perched on his shoulders. Armstrong collects stuffed dolls as toys for his cat, whose sister--Armstrong’s previous pet--was run over by a car.

“Cats are not that expensive,” Armstrong muttered beneath his blue cap. “Two dollars for a cat will last you all week. Two dollars for a dog will last you a day. That makes a big difference.”

The cost of raising dogs does not faze Leota Laursen, who owns two, Kiki and Shilo. Laursen sometimes spends as much as $40 a month to feed the dogs and counts on them to protect her as she moves from park to park, where she spends her nights in a sleeping bag.

Laursen was once a dog breeder and worked as a waitress and accountant for 10 years before a divorce and drug problems drove her to the streets.

“My dogs are my best friends,” Laursen said. “They get me through this loneliness and hard time. They won’t steal or lie or cheat.

“When you have an animal, you have something to live for.”