Times tough on the animals, too

By Brendan Buhler

Friday, Feb. 20, 2009 | 2 a.m.

The cat they would call Scratchy arrived in June.

She was left outside the animal hospital in a crate, an older cat inside with her. There was a note.

I lost my house. I know you’ll take care of them. I don’t want to take them to the shelter. I don’t want them put to sleep.

When Susan Keeney examined the cats, she noticed they were bothered by mites in their ears. She named them Itchy and Scratchy. Guess which one had the better disposition.

Itchy found a home in six months. Scratchy is still at the vet.

When Keeney opened her hospital it was the fulfillment of a dream — built to her top-of-the-line specifications and, out on the far western edge of Las Vegas’ boom, a cheerful business prospect. Now Siena Animal Hospital is surrounded by foreclosed houses, empty storefronts, condos stalled without windows and subdivisions that never rose above their slabs.

And then there are the animals: 30 dogs, 23 stray cats, five rabbits and one jilted rat.

Good Samaritans brought in some of them. Some were dropped off for treatment and their owners never came back. Some were pushed through the door and some were tied to the back fence. Once Keeney’s husband and business partner went out for a soda and came back to find two beer boxes filled with kittens.

The animals are cleaned, quarantined, vaccinated and spayed or neutered. Some badly sick or injured animals have to be put down. Then comes the hard part: finding homes.

Animals are pressed onto clients, friends, drug salesmen, strangers, mailmen. As a last resort, they’re adopted by employees, though the hospital’s employees have gotten pretty good at pressing pets on people.

(True story: While a Sun photographer was at the hospital, someone brought in a small stray dog that looked like something a sheep might cough up. Keeney and her staff shaved its matted hair and named it after our photographer and offered the dog to him. Alas, there was no room at the inn.)

Keeney says she would adopt some of the animals except that she has, in 13 years as a vet, adopted four dogs and one cat and they are too old now for newcomers. Keeney is allergic to animals and has to have a weekly a injection, but still she works most weekends and some nights, too.

The hospital is doing the best it can, Keeney says, but all these strays are costing money. She’s had to ask for donations. Money, blankets — anything that can help.

Eight months at the hospital have mellowed Scratchy. If Scratchy stays much longer, Keeney says, she’s going to get a collar that says “Office Manager.” She spends much of her time in the office of Keeney’s husband, Tony McKee, playing with his papers or sleeping against his arm.

“I don’t know why she has such bad luck,” Keeney says.

Maybe it’s the name?

“Snuggles? Sweetheart?” Keeney says. “I know! Cuddles.”

Nah. She’s Scratchy.