ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Thursday, January 25, 1996 TAG: 9601250005
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
COLUMN: Beth Macy
DATELINE: FINCASTLE
SOURCE: BETH MACY
They have been taking care of him since July 24 - feeding him, giving him a place to stay, trying to ease his fear. Abused since infancy, he hides in a corner every time a man enters the room.
``I'd love to get a hold of the man who did that to him and wring him out,'' says Pat Shaver, his foster mom of sorts.
Then there is Howard, the one who was turned over to Shaver by a grandmother whose teen-age grandson was not properly caring for him.
``She was very concerned about Howard,'' Shaver recalls. ``She gave us a big donation'' for temporary lodging.
Harry, who is everyone's favorite, was found wandering the streets of Buchanan. ``He is loving and sweet, but he has the face of Jack Nicholson in `The Shining,' '' she says.
The bulletin board here off this Botetourt County backroad reads like a child-care center's message board: Sasha must stay on her special bland diet. Howard needs a time-out away from the others.
Portraits of those who have stayed here in the past hang on the wall - like snapshots of happy newborns thumb-tacked to an obstetrician's office wall.
Pat Shaver and her fellow coordinator, Judy Lorish, speak bluntly about where their priorities lie: with the dogs.
The two women developed a friendship a couple years back when they volunteered their time delivering Christmas presents and meals to needy families -
humans -through a Botetourt County Department of Social Services program.
``Shall we tell the story of the turkeys?'' Judy asks Pat, as if divulging a dirty secret.
The ground was snowy and muddy, the charity-food freezer full. The two women had to store a dozen or more turkeys in their home freezers overnight, then haul them in to the giveaway location - one heavy bird per arm - from the trunks of their cars.
``There was a whole line-up of burly men waiting at the door for their food,'' Pat recalls.
Judy interjects: ``They were just standing there watching us lug these things to the door. And not one of them said, `Can we help you put these turkeys in?' That ticked us off.''
For the past seven months, these women - with the backing of 400 members, including 40 hands-on volunteers - have managed to run the League for Animal Protection's first animal shelter, a no-kill facility operated solely by volunteers.
``We'd rather do something with animals than for people, if you want to know the truth,'' Judy says.
``Animals are so defenseless. They're so grateful for the things you do,'' Pat says. ``And they ask for so little in return.''
Judging from the public response to this non-euthanizing shelter, Pat and Judy aren't alone in their thinking.
While this country chips away at people-first programs like Aid to Families with Dependent Children and Head Start, animal-advocacy programs like LAP are growing nationwide. This shelter, for instance, has led a charmed fiscal life: Each time the coffers have gotten low, more donations have appeared.
``Our phone rings constantly,'' says former SPCA volunteer Wayne Tomlinson, who founded LAP out of concern over the number of animals being euthanized at the SPCA. ``You can't call yourself an animal lover, and have a room full of dead animals that you've just put down.''
Since July, the LAP shelter has found homes for more than 50 dogs and cats. Twelve dogs and six cats are currently being housed at LAP, with a waiting list of nine cats and three dogs who are living with volunteers and friends of volunteers until a shelter spot becomes available.
Like social workers inspecting prospective adoptive parents, volunteers personally deliver the animals to their new homes. Follow-up visits are made to check on all adoptees, too.
Volunteer Steve Nation, a retired railroad worker, feeds the animals and cleans their cages every Monday. He says he was drawn to the facility because of its no-kill policy.
``I'd always stayed away from volunteering, but dogs can't take care of themselves,'' he says. ``People can, but dogs can't.''
Workers' eyes well up when they talk about some of the animals, all of whom are named. They consider Red Bear, an Australian shepherd, a child of divorce: A Narrows woman brought him in when her marriage broke up and she could no longer afford to keep him.
``He was adopted by a nice man across the street,'' Pat explains. ``But he kept escaping and coming back to us.''
After three escapes - including one in which he dug under the shelter's fence to get inside - the neighbor returned Red Bear. ``He's here to stay,'' Pat says.
Fincastle Mayor Willie Simmons, who came for the shelter's opening-day ribbon-cutting, couldn't stop thinking about Jasper, a golden retriever mix who became the shelter's first adoptee. After a week of visiting the dog with his son, Simmons relented and took the dog home.
``Every time they came, Jasper came up and sat on a chair in the lobby,'' Pat says. ``He was saying, `I'm housebroken. I need a chair in somebody's house.' ... Now he has his own bean-bag chair in the mayor's living room.''
In a society that continues to search for solutions to frustrating people problems, these volunteers are biting off a more palatable portion of the country's woes.
Teen pregnancy, juvenile crime, welfare - even feeding Christmas turkeys to the poor - aren't issues they feel they can tackle. Nor do they want to.
They prefer a lick on the hand any day ... to the fear of a slap in the face.
For more information on LAP's no-kill shelter, call 473-3853. Donations to the League for Animal Protection can be sent to P.O. Box 20206, Roanoke, Va. 24018.
LENGTH: Long : 108 lines ILLUSTRATION: PHOTO: Roger Hart. Volunteer Steve Nation walks Harry, a chowby CNBmix, during his work at the League for Animal Protection shelter in
Fincastle. color.