Creature Comforts

Hugo, a 13-year-old terrier mix, is 15 pounds of nervousness with a hoarse, desperate bark and a ratty coat that most fleas would probably pass up. He has two teeth in his mouth, a heart murmur, shakes constantly and was recently hit by a car.

“He would be considered old and ugly any place else,” said Richard Avanzino, president of the San Francisco Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.

Most people will probably still come to that conclusion, even in the palatial new $7-million pet adoption center that the SPCA recently opened to showcase its wards, where the traditional prison-like row of cages crammed with yapping mutts has given way to individually appointed apartments complete with TVs (“Lassie” and “Rin Tin Tin” are popular viewing material), Persian rugs and original art on the walls.

Human visitors are greeted by a free choice of herbal teas, cappuccino or fresh squeezed lemonade in a spacious, open-beamed lobby that overlooks a veranda with chairs and tables. The 37,000-square-foot facility is bathed in light from picture windows and skylights. On Saturdays, there is live music. The outside of each apartment is faced in Spanish stucco and Italian tile and designed to mimic a different local area: the Mission District, Russian Hill, Twin Peaks.

“There’s nothing like this in the world,” Avanzino beamed. “You’re not in a dog kennel, you’re in a San Francisco neighborhood.”

The only thing that would seem to be missing from a typical San Francisco neighborhood are the homeless--which is not because Avanzino didn’t invite them. Avanzino contacted a number of homeless advocacy groups to tell them that the shelter wouldn’t mind providing a roof for a dozen of those who don’t otherwise have one, at least during the hours when the animals aren’t busy, which is from 9 p.m. to 6 a.m. Several groups turned him down outright, but the Salvation Army and one other organization have expressed interest.

“It’s a win-win,” Avanzino said. “This was not designed to be a hotel for people, but it could be housing stock.”

Paul Boden, who runs the Coalition on Homelessness, says he doesn’t begrudge the city’s homeless animals their new shelter.

“It’s not a bad thing,” he said. “It’s ironic, but it doesn’t mean the SPCA is bad to do it. It’s just weird how we look at people. It’s sad more than anything. I know there are people who sleep in front of their building. But it would feel a little bizarre to actually write a referral [to sleep in the animal shelter], the juxtaposition between spending all this money and care on animals and so little on people.”

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Avanzino says it would be easy enough to put a cot into one of the 200-square foot animal apartments, especially on those nights when it’s, er, raining cats and dogs. There might be some drawbacks to the idea: The center doesn’t have showers, the apartment windows don’t have curtains and meals tend to be served in bowls on the ground.

“It’s not for everybody,” he said. “It’s not for people who don’t like dogs. But some of the homeless make great pet owners, sitting on the street begging and petting their cats all day. That’s all they have.”

Which is not to say that rich people don’t love their pets, too. The facility, after all, is called Maddie’s Pet Adoption Center, named after a mini schnauzer that belonged to Dave Duffield, the president of PeopleSoft, whose family foundation donated $1 million to the building fund.

In fact, Avanzino said that surveys have shown that 93% of pet owners consider their animals to be members of their family and that half of married women polled claim they get more affection from their pets than from their husbands or children.

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The trouble is that two-thirds of the animals that come through the SPCA center are sick, injured or have behavioral problems. Since the center has a controversial no-kill policy, it is committed to finding homes for the most unlikely of pets. (Last year it adopted out 4,700 animals and euthanized only 62 animals with terminal illnesses or severe aggression problems.) Critics argue that the no-kill policy is a pipe dream and a way of sowing discord in the animal-control community.

Troubled charges such as Hugo are placed in the most visible apartments, while the cute and young animals are tucked away in the more secluded spots.

To make the potential pets more suitable for adoption the dogs spend most of the day, from around 6 a.m. to 9 p.m., in various classes to teach them to interact with other animals and humans.

“For the whole day they’re in some kind of class learning to be the perfect companion,” Avanzino said. “When dogs get bored you get problems. We keep them away from boredom. If you put a dog in a kennel with nothing but a chew toy, it’s going to get frustrated. The longer they stay here, the better they get.”

The building, designed by ARQ Architects of Maine, features anti-microbe fiber floors, a special ventilation system to suck out odors and sound-dampening material to cut down on noise.

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And the new center, which houses about 100 cats and dogs on any given day, offers inducements as well: free pet food for a year for hard-to-place dogs and free medical care for life for a diabetic cat.

Avanzino compares the state-of-the-art center to the evolution of a modern mental hospital from the snake pits of a century ago.

“We think of our animals as our best friends,” he said. “You wouldn’t put a family member in a cage.”

Which is why the idea of letting the homeless bunk with man’s best friend appeals to Avanzino. Just one rule, he said: No pets allowed.