A furry tail ending for unwanted dogs and cats

SULTAN -- There is a sameness to the dogs who pass through the gates of Pasado's Safe Haven, from the golden retrievers to the shepherds to the "50 different kinds" of mixed breeds:

Muzzles grayed by age. Eyes blued by cataracts. Prescriptions for Rimadyl and glucosamine, to ease their aching joints.


		Jim Bryant / P-I
	"Retirees" gather for treats from Pasado's Safe Haven director Susan Michaels who, along with her husband, is opening "the first old dog and cat ranch in the U.S."

And ... a reprieve from death.

Elderly mutts like Jellybean, who was dumped on a country road, and Ranger, who didn't fit into his owner's travel plans, were once scheduled for euthanasia. Now they're charter members of a new dog and cat sanctuary taking shape in the rural reaches of Snohomish County.

Only slightly tongue-in-cheek, the 28-acre project at Pasado's has been dubbed "AARFF -- The American Association for Retired Fidos and Felines." Owners Susan Michaels and Mark Steinway call it "the first old dog and cat ranch in the U.S.," for elderly animals considered almost

unadoptable at traditional shelters.

"What's 'adoptable?' " Steinway said. "Cute, young, non-handicapped, no peeing problems, no biting problems."

The sanctuary will be a small antidote to the infuriation the married couple feel when aging animals are killed at overflowing shelters because of what strikes them as human selfishness -- an incontinent pet abandoned because it urinated on the carpet, or one brought in because it took up too much time after a new baby arrived.

The preserve will be built on the wooded land Michaels and Steinway purchased adjacent to Pasado's, the verdant sanctuary they founded in 1998 in memory of a donkey beaten to death at Bellevue's Kelsey Creek Farm. The dogs and cats will live out their days at AARFF, with no expectation that they will find new homes.

Hidden on a secluded back road, with the mooing and crowing of rescued farm animals in the background, volunteers are clearing land and building fences in preparation for four barns to house the shelter's first canine residents. An existing structure will become "Kitty City," with a fence allowing the cats 24-hour access to the outdoors.

Sturdy wooden barns, still to be built, will be heated, with a bed for human caretakers and a ramp rather than steps, to ease the stress on arthritic paws and hips.

Materials and skilled labor for each barn costs around $5,000. With names like "Daisy's House" and "Murphy's House," they're funded partly through donors memorializing beloved pets.

"The ramp just got us, because ... we had a ramp built on our house about three years ago, because Daisy couldn't manage the stairs any longer," said Peg Kehret, who has sponsored one cabin in memory of her cairn terrier.

The AARFF preserve is a domesticated addition to Pasado's initial mission to save abused farm animals. In the five years since the original 25-acre sanctuary opened, the non-profit has sheltered hundreds of wounded creatures. There's Chester, a donkey blinded by fierce beatings about his head, and Gweniviere, one of 1,000 chickens rescued from a filthy egg farm whose owner was convicted of animal cruelty.

But from the start, Pasado received calls on cases of small-animal abuse, such as "Winky," the gray tabby whose legs were fractured and who had a green eye dangling from its socket when Michaels was called to rescue it from an abusive home.

They already get enough calls about dogs and cats to warrant a pleasantly icy option on the answering machine: "If you ... no longer want to take responsibility for your own beloved family pet, press two."

Animal shelters meant to serve as permanent homes are rare in the United States and have a difficult path to navigate, said Kate Pullen, director for animal sheltering for the Humane Society of the United States.


		Jim Bryant / P-I
	Feline anticipation mounts as Pasado's Safe Haven volunteer Karen Hotchkiss brings out cans of cat food. AARFF, or the American Association for Retired Fidos and Felines, is being built on 28 acres adjacent to the shelter in Sultan.

"They run the gamut from being impeccably run and impeccably funded to ones that have good hearts but no ability to pull it off," she said. "The thing with sanctuaries is, generally you need to be able to say no at one point. Even with unlimited funds, you will at some point run out of land."

Michaels and Steinway say they won't overreach.

"We said from the beginning, we would only do what we could afford," Steinway said.

That means saving money to buy property outright. It means recruiting volunteers to power most of the Pasado's work -- building the sturdy white fences that separate llamas from cows; regularly scraping the walls of the chicken barn down to their clean white surface; cleaning cages in the mobile truck that provides free spaying and neutering to low-income pet owners.

It means raising money for supplies and labor that are hard to find through donations -- lumber and fencing, heavy equipment and people capable of operating it, skilled veterinary care.

And it means understanding that for every animal they save -- the dog barns will house six to eight animals apiece -- it's not remotely enough to dent the need.

"You do have to be able to say no at some point," Michaels said. "And it hurts."

Michaels, a former TV personality who founded the Humane Society of Seattle/King County's "Tuxes and Tails" benefit, brought a mix of fierce dedication and savvy marketing to the sanctuary. It's attracted an army of helpers and praise from observers as lofty as Oprah Winfrey.

"She is so powerful in her beliefs," said Carol Swindaman, animal health director for the Redwood Animal Hospital in Redmond. Swindaman adopted a chocolate Lab from Pasado's that had a shattered leg that needed amputation and a spinal injury that required surgery.

"He was an amazing dog, just to survive all that and to be the sweetest, sweetest thing through the entire process. It was just, 'Oh, save me,' " she said.

The hospital's staff has adopted Pasado's in turn, participating in work parties and encouraging clients to donate food and medications. Veterinarian Ken Jacobsen steps in with free surgical care for animals with broken limbs and tortured bodies.It also places Pasado's in an emotional national debate about where the resources for saving animals should be placed. It's a question that has gone through a difficult evolution, with more shelters shifting away from strict "no-kill" policies, said the Humane Society's Pullen.

However, some shelters are coming to the realization that if they house one "unadoptable" dog for years rather than euthanizing it, they lose the chance to find new homes for many others that could have used the same kennel space over the years.

The mission of Pasado's has always been to fill the voids in animal care, Michaels said. The "unadoptables" are a glaring abyss.

The animals can't talk, but to the Pasado's Safe Haven volunteers, the feelings of the first AARFF members are clear: The eager romps of the dogs, the preening cats rubbing their heads against visitors' hands, the way that, if the lion does not quite lie down with the lamb, a black cat named Homer does peaceably sprawl in the sun with a gaggle of chickens.

"The energy is just different," said volunteer Swindaman. "They all realize they have been given a second chance."

HOW TO HELP

Work parties to build the AARFF sanctuary are held the second Saturday of every month at Pasado's Safe Haven near Sultan. To volunteer, call 360-793-9393 or visit www.pasadosafehaven.org.

P-I reporter Rebekah Denn can be reached at 206-448-8190 or rebekahdenn@seattlepi.com.

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