Free If You Ask Me by Betty White

Nonthreatening communication laced with a measure of passion can accomplish wonders.
    It can also result in a visitor falling in love with a great white whale.

    PHOTOGRAPH BY ADDISON HILL

PET ADOPTION
    I work with the Los Angeles Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals often and if I’m having a meeting there, I always go through the shelter unannounced so they’re not fixing it up for my benefit. I just want to see how it is day to day.
    One day about eighteen years ago, I did just that en route to my meeting. After walking through and seeing all the animals, I was just about to exit when I noticed a cage on top of a cabinet with this beautiful little shih tzu in there.
    I said, “Where did she come from?”
    The director said, “She’s not up for adoption yet. She’s a cruelty case. A woman paid a lot of money for her at a pet store, but when she brought the dog home, the little girl was so sick she couldn’t stand up. The woman took the dog back to the pet store, and they said, ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, we’ll take care of her and give you another dog.’ ”
    Thank God, the woman went back the next day to see how the puppy was, and it was not being treated or nursed back to health—it was in the window for sale! In a badly managed pet shop, viruses run rampant from one animal to another, and the care (or lack thereof) compounds that.
    The woman took the store to court, and that little shih tzu puppy closed the pet shop—all by herself!
    The puppy, however, couldn’t be adopted until the trial was settled, which took another three months. So during that time, the woman got another dog, because she wanted to adopt.
    Meanwhile, at LASPCA I asked if they would let me know the minute the trial was settled and she was up for adoption.
    Three months down the road, I got a call. They said the time was up and the little dog was eligible for adoption.
    I said, “When can I pick Panda up?”
    I hadn’t even been thinking of a name—it just came out. Panda. At the time I had two male dogs—a little bichon frise rescue and a mini black poodle. I worried that Panda would come in and be intimidated, but the introduction went smoothly—to the point that I could almost hear her say, “All right, boys. There are going to be a few changes in town. I’m now in charge!” And she took over and ran the house until she was sixteen and three-fourths.

    With my poodle Timothy.
    BETTY WHITE PRIVATE COLLECTION

SPEAKING ANIMAL
    I grew up with pets. In our house, they were more than pets—they were members of the family.
    During the Depression, my dad made radios to sell to make extra money. Nobody had any money to buy the radios, so he would trade them for dogs. He built kennels in the backyard, and he cared for the dogs.
    Now, radios didn’t eat, but the dogs did. So it was not the best business venture.
    At one point we got up to something like fifteen dogs—well-loved dogs. We’d rotate them through the house in shifts, but it was clear it was not really a good plan, and we found homes for everybody but one chow and one Pekingese whom we couldn’t part with.
    As far back as I can remember, my parents had animals.
    My mother always told the story about Toby, their orange-marmalade cat that they had when I was born. Toby would sit on the edge of my crib, and Mom said that if Toby hadn’t approved of the new baby when I came home from the hospital, I would have been sent right back.
    When my folks first came to California, we lived in Pasadena for a while. And we had a white Angora kitty named Patsy. I remember her very clearly. I don’t remember the kids across the street I used to play with, but I remember Patsy. I must have been five years old.
    One day I went into the closet and came out screaming for my mother, “Patsy broke!! Patsy broke!!”
    She’d had a litter of kittens, and I thought she’d come apart.
    Interestingly, neither of my parents had pets growing up. But together they fell in love with