I was starting to feel like a real loser sitting around in my cozy West Village apartment while hundreds of thousands of people on the east coast still lacked power and vehicle owners waited for hours to get gas. So, I decided to do some volunteer work.

Volunteering is hard. Just trying to volunteer is hard. I had been through the frustrating experience of trying to donate time to disorganized or poorly funded efforts in the past. Just last week, suddenly the curators of hours of free time while Eric’s office waited for power in the dark part of town, we had attempted to volunteer cleaning up a city park. Between the waning battery of my cell phone, the flakey 3G service, and the apparent excess of enthusiastic volunteers, we could not properly load the informative site. We ended up taking a several hour mission in search of the volunteer site, never actually finding it, but enjoying a fascinating stroll down E 125th Street through Harlem.

Next, I crawled the internet, looking for opportunities to volunteer. I sent out at least 10 emails to various groups. I navigated through volunteer websites only to find registrations closed. I must say, if organizations were so flooded with volunteers that no more could be useful, I am very impressed with the community. However, I assumed there must be something.

My only response, an email from Ozone Park Animal Shelter, lacked information. The sender requested that I come Wednesday morning and could start that day. Unsure of what hour constituted “morning”, I decided to plan on arriving around 1pm. Wary of some kind of trap, I looked up the animal shelter on Yelp, and was relieved to find decent reviews. As a No Kill shelter, it apparently tended towards crowdedness, but otherwise seemed legit. The location was distant – Yelp showed 80th Street in Queens which is nearly the end of the A line and only a couple short miles from JFK and the hurricane wreckage in Rockaway Beach.

As I set out, the rain started, furthering my relief that the long ride was direct. By the time I got off the train, the rain was sleetifying and the streets were empty of walkers. The area struck me as sketchy. This far out on the A, the train leaves the ground and travels above the street. Specifically, it travels above the street the shelter was located on, Liberty. I did not see an animal shelter. I ran through the sleet to a McDonalds half a block away. The employees, perplexed by the possibility of a nearby animal shelter, suggested that maybe I meant the Pet Store? I pulled up the yelp entry and called the shelter. Luckily, someone answered.

“Yeah, we’re on Liberty. Between 97th and 98th, right across from the CVS.”
Thanks, Yelp. I was on 74th. Unsure of whether another metro stop would be closer, suspicious of Google Maps, determined to finally do some fucking volunteer work, I elected to walk the 23 blocks in the snow. The neighborhood did not inspire a feeling of comfort. Tall fences surrounded the buildings. A creepy dark house with open windows and broken shades guarded a large cemetery full of coffin-sized marble monuments crowded too close together. I arrived at 97th, soaking wet, relieved and somewhat surprised to actually find an Animal Shelter.

The sign on the door said, “Closed.”

I could see lights on inside. A large cage crawling with at least 30 cats blocked my view but I could hear an eruption of barking. A young guy finally opened the door. I could barely hear him over the dogs, so I said simply, “I’m here to volunteer. Do you need help?”

He opened the door and led me to a woman about my age. The cacophony of excited dogs continued so without talking, this Pet Tender gave me rubber gloves and demonstrated what she needed me to do. Clean dog cages. There were SO many cages. At least 40 cages filled an area in the back of the room, and I could hear more barking from another room.

The situation was dire. The small dogs were housed in cages about 3 x 3 feet, with a grated bottom and a pull out drawer to collect pee. Before I started a cage, Pet Tender would remove the dog, since some were “biters” and I was a volunteer. Then I would pull out the shredded newspaper mixed with dog excrement. For some reason all the dogs shredded their newspaper, allowing them to smash the poo into the grating. Then I would wipe out all the poo and sponge down the whole cage with some kind of cleaning solution. The water and food dishes needed to be cleaned and refilled, and a thick layer of newspaper placed on the grating and under it in the drawer. Then Pet Tender would put the dog back in and remove the next one.

In the meantime, the sleet outside had turned decisively to snow. Of course, my volunteering attempts would be tried by yet another unpredicted event – a Nor’Easterly, in this case. I worried the trains would stop due to weather, abandoning me in this distant part of the city. Pet Tender assured me that the train would continue to run even in snow.

After several hours and 10 clean dog cages, I realized it was nearly time for me to go. I let Pet Tender know that I would be heading out in about 20 minutes.

“In that case, before you go, we should do the big cat cage together, if you have time.” was her response.

The task seemed simple at first. The cats all shat tidily in the litter boxes, so we only needed to bring them out, dump them, and rinse them. The real task, however, turned out to be managing the cats so they would not escape when the door was opened. They rushed the door, meowing, tails slinking about, paws pawing, whiskers whisking. One cat darted immediately and needed to be chased down. With some effort, we managed to enter the cage. I never knew I was afraid of cats. So thick I could hardly see the floor, rubbing against me, sitting at shoulder level on cat climbing structures, they were everywhere. I was petrified. I passed the litter boxes out as quickly as possible, trying not to show my fear, lest they smell it and attack. None too soon, we had them all and could exit the cat room.

“Can you come back tomorrow?” they asked as I scrubbed my arms up to the shoulder with disinfectant soap.

“Probably not tomorrow, but I’ll be back.”

I have to say, volunteering at the animal shelter was horrible. The animals are sad, and the conditions are not ideal, and the smell is poopy. But, these guys REALLY need volunteers. So, if you can deal with poop, and you kind of like animals, but not so much as to be dragged into depression by the shitty circumstances, I really recommend you try it. Just wear old clothes, and shoes without tread.