Respect and the Case for Coexistence

Cartier, photo – Nina Irani

Cartier’s eyes are like jewels, one aquamarine blue, the other an amber-green.  I can only assume they are what inspired his rescuer to give him such a fancy name.  He was found outside, alone, near Cow Palace, a few months ago.  At the time, he was gray and skinny.  Now, he is the gleaming white characteristic of his breed, Turkish Van, with a little growing belly.

In the month since Cartier’s come into my life, we’ve been learning about each other.  He’s a bundle of joy who delights me with his tiny, squeaky sighs as he settles in for deep naps.  He’s a welcome companion and distraction for days spent indoors, revving up his purr engine in the mornings, and nestling softly, belly up, cradled in my arm in the afternoons.  I watch him gaze out over the city, press his nose against window screens, and wonder at his surroundings. 

 But he’s also behaved as a teenage cat who hasn’t been living among humans might –  nipping, biting, clawing, and swatting.  His cuddles are punctuated with tugging on my hair.  And while he used to stop himself from pouncing – diverting himself seemingly in midair – he has become bolder now.  In those moments, his jeweled eyes don’t seem to sparkle as much as glow with intensity.  I get it.  He’s trying to tell me something.  But the way he’s saying it hurts at times.  I respond as I’ve learned, communicating by walking away when he bites.  So far, he doesn’t seem to understand me either.  But I know that if we’re to coexist, we need to respect each other.

Last month, the commission learned a lesson in coexistence from Project Coyote, a non-profit dedicated to compassionate conservation and advocating how to live harmoniously with our local wildlife. In short, it’s up to us to adapt, too - not just the coyotes.  We can learn to understand coyote’s body language, and take simple steps like leashing our dogs, using deterrents like light up collars and bells, and avoiding dog walking when coyotes are most active – from dusk until dawn.  If there is a close confrontation with a coyote, we can take measures to “haze” them – acting big and loud by clapping, slapping our legs, waving our arms, or using noisemakers to disperse them – without hurting them. 

We’ve had coexistence challenges at commission meetings, too. Most of the time, it seems all the participants – commissioners, department representatives, guest speakers, members of the public – are understanding of each other, even when we disagree. Of course, we all have different communication styles.  Some are captivating storytellers, while others dive into facts and statistics.  Some of us are louder or more emotionally evocative; others are quieter and measured in tone.  Although we all have different focuses and strategies, we have a common interest – our passion for animals. Usually, that’s enough to unite us.

At times though, public commentary has seemed misplaced.  We’ve been accused of “voter suppression,” even though we don’t make decisions by public vote.  We’ve heard the allegation of “corruption” thrown out, without any facts to support it.

Sometimes these comments hurt.  We’ve been told that “most people engaged at your level are low IQ underachievers.” Or “Keep telling yourself (and others because you do this for what limited status you think it brings you) that you are ‘making a difference.’ You are not.”  

Trying to intentionally trigger reactions through attacks like these can be an attention-getting tactic.  But sadly, it doesn’t draw attention to an issue. It draws attention to the speaker.  I’ve seen it used in other arenas, but I never expected anyone who claims to care about animals to reach out with these kinds of attacks.  As a new commissioner, I learned that the way to respond to comments like these was to not respond at all.  

I continually think about what can be done differently.  I’ve learned from my fellow commissioners about how to better steer meetings and try to make sure all voices are heard.  I’ve learned that it’s my job to encourage cooperation so that actions can move forward.  I’ve learned, too, that emotion can be risky when trying to engage respectfully.  

Even with all these efforts, I’m not convinced any legitimate action on our part will completely  prevent such attacks. I still believe that non-responsiveness is the right response at times.  But I’ve also learned that sometimes it’s better to speak out or respond directly. This is especially important when words are used to hurt or divide us. 

Just as we use our voices to speak out for animals, we can also use our voices to try to ensure respect for all.  And by respectfully coming together, we can do better for animals. 

Please join the Animal Commission at our next meeting on Thursday, September 9, to learn about the work of Palomacy, a volunteer-powered local rescue dedicated to pigeons and doves. Details at sfgov.org/animals

Please be aware that the views expressed in this column are the personal views of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official views or policies of the San Francisco Commission of Animal Control & Welfare.