Albuquerque Journal

Lucky PAWS turns 10

The city’s animal adoption store in Coronado Center is a happy stop on the way to a forever home

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Scooby Doo wants you to hug him.

That’s what the sign on his room says, and Scooby, a caramel-colored pit bull mix who is 4 and much more dignified and intelligen­t than his animated namesake, is among the many huggables at Lucky Paws.

There’s Kofi, whose room, or kennel, notes he has “good vibes!” and Leeman, who “(hearts) belly rubs!” and the pair whose adjoining kennels are designated, in part because Lucky Paws on this day is still in Valentine’s mode, “Lover’s Lane.”

The lovers are Precious, on the left, and Marek, on the right, both pit bull mixes. Had it not been for Lucky Paws, the city’s adoption store in Coronado Center, they would never have met.

Precious is from the city’s West Side shelter; Marek, from the east side. She’s outgoing; he’s shy. But they just hit it off, the staff says; she’s helping to socialize him, and when they are let inside a play/bonding room together, they bounce with the joy of play.

It’s hoped they can be adopted together. He had been in the shy dog program before he came to Lucky Paws, where he met Precious. “They’ve been partners ever since. He just absolutely loves her,” says Selia Payne, Lucky Paws’ manager.

Lucky Paws, the nation’s first — if not the only — public agency adoption site set in a permanent store in a mall, celebrates its 10th anniversar­y this weekend, starting today. It has adopted about 22,000 pets, a little more than 20 percent of the Animal Welfare Department’s adoptions.

“The idea was to be a fasttracki­ng adoption center,” says Payne, who until moving to Lucky Paws worked in city department offices and started here as a staffer. “But over time, we get a lot that are having a hard time in the shelter,” or who have special needs, or are overlooked. Lucky Paws has fewer animals, so staff can focus on individual­s and get to know their personalit­ies and characters.

The store has 13 dog kennels and 26 cat condos, with a storefront window for each. And that is part of Lucky Paws’ genius, generous storefront windows. Kittens. Puppies. Snoozing cats, observant dogs, deliberate attraction­s to shoppers and their children.

Once inside, signs large (When do kitties want to go home? Right meow), medium (Live/Love/Rescue with a pawprint for the O) and small (“I’m Selia’s favorite. Ask why!”on a kennel or condo) seem to chatter, to tell you this is just like the entrance promised.

“It has a spirit to it, a kind of happiness to it,” Payne says.

School classes come visit, and kids get to play with the animals. Because “that makes the pets happy,” the kids get certificat­es of community service, plus they’ve learned about the city’s animal welfare law. Some classes raise money, some make cat toys out of yarn, some children act as “reading companions” in pet rooms outfitted with pillows to sit on.

Some of these pets are dubbed Terrie’s Angels, in honor of KKOB radio host Terrie Sayre, an animal advocate who died two years ago. The program helps pet owners adopting a dog or cat with special needs and sends them home with, say, a twoyear supply of medication.

Those noted as a staff “favorite, ask why” might be cats like Spike, a 13-year-old yellow tabby whom Payne must greet in person every morning because he demands it, and who likes to hang out in her office, and who takes walks on a leash. His condo card says, “I’m old yet wise,” and he’s more of the latter than the former.

Although the store promises that here you can find “instant gratificat­ion,” and the mall location is central to its mission, there’s a catch. When you go to a shelter, you’re already thinking about adoption. When you’re in Coronado, you could just be shopping for shoes.

“Did you think about (adoption) before you came in? Because we’re going to make you think about it,” Payne says. Staff will tell you everything about the pet, even the negative, and try to learn as much as possible about you and if you can provide the kind of home the pet deserves — including calls to landlords if adopters rent, just to be sure pets are accepted.

“We want to make sure they find a forever home,” she says.

And those who provide forever homes often come back to Lucky Paws, Payne says, to say “thank you,” usually with photos.

“It’s like showing your kids off. They want to show you what a good life they gave them.”

 ?? MARLA BROSE/ JOURNAL ?? Kellie Villicano, a Lucky Paws adoption counselor, plays with Duffy, a 1-yearold Chihuahua mix and Mac, a 1-year-old cat who was diagnosed as having feline leukemia, but cats that have it can live normal lives.
MARLA BROSE/ JOURNAL Kellie Villicano, a Lucky Paws adoption counselor, plays with Duffy, a 1-yearold Chihuahua mix and Mac, a 1-year-old cat who was diagnosed as having feline leukemia, but cats that have it can live normal lives.
 ??  ?? Devon Sanchez and Cheyenne Trujillo decided to adopt Bonny after a bonding session with the puppy at Lucky Paws.
Devon Sanchez and Cheyenne Trujillo decided to adopt Bonny after a bonding session with the puppy at Lucky Paws.
 ??  ?? Lucky Paws manager Selia Payne with Spike, who likes to walk inside Coronado Center on a leash.
Lucky Paws manager Selia Payne with Spike, who likes to walk inside Coronado Center on a leash.

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