Free Puppies! : Also Birds, Kittens and a Python as Big Crowd Shows Up

Yes, the dogs were sweet and the kittens were cute and even Schuyler the sickly macaw exuded some Technicolor charm.

But what Solange Judnich really wanted was the snake. Please.

She could give it a good home. She had other snakes to keep it company. She was moving into a trailer, and her snakes could have their own room. And look--one of her tattoos, the one on her ankle, was a snake.

“They’re very loving animals,” even the rattlesnake she once had. “They feel good, they feel muscly and soft . . . you get attached to those creepy crawlers.”

But on Friday, Judnich, 25, snake lover and Beverly Hills nanny, did not wind up adopting Rufus, the reticulated python.

The math alone was against it, a classic study of supply and demand--and demand and demand and demand.

At the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals’ Los Angeles shelter, more than 400 people waited in line in hopes of adopting one of 17 neglected animals seized from a Torrance pet shop in 1987.

Only now--after being held more than a year as evidence in the prosecution of the shop owner, who has pleaded no contest--could they be placed in homes, the first homes in their lives.

With cages and sacks and ropes and boxes, they began gathering before 8 a.m. for the noon adoption, as shelter workers readied themselves for a crowd that looked “like we’re giving away money,” said one.

Scores showed up for the allure of a $1,500 to $2,000 macaw--even an ailing one--for a $20 adoption fee or a $350 Samoyed for a song, but a stern, three-stage adoption procedure screened out the crass and the casual.

Do you own your own home, they wanted to know? Have you had a dog (or cat) die on your premises? What do you plan to do with your pet when you go on vacation? Would you object to an ASPCA officer inspecting the premises?

“We’ve put a lot of time and money and emotion into these animals, and we want to make sure they’re treated very well,” said Cori Whetstone, one of the two humane officers who served the warrants and took 26 animals into custody.

Nine of the animals later died, leaving seven birds, a snake, four cats and five dogs--the four turtles having been adopted by the veterinarian who treated them.

“We know the animals best and we want the best for them.”

Whetstone had to say no to a woman with nine other pets who wanted to make sure none of the 17 was put to sleep and to the celebrity-struck who wanted an animal that had been on TV.

“We didn’t want people taking them just because they’re status symbols, because they came out of the (raided) store,” she said.

She said no too to a father whose son, Jason, wanted Bear, one of the two Samoyeds.

“Bear really can’t be trusted with small children,” Whetstone argued.

“Jason’s great with animals, and he’s got his heart set on it.”

“I know, sir, I know. We don’t want anything to happen to Jason, and we don’t want anything to happen to Bear. We have some other nice puppies. . . .”

The boy buried his face in his father’s leg and cried.

“C’mon, Jason,” said his father, hefting him to his shoulder. “Let’s get outta here.”

Moments later, he was back. “No way? No way at all? For a kid?”

No was the reply.

They left again, for good.

“Boy,” Whetstone sighed, “people are gonna hate me when this day’s over.”

Such people “are thinking here”--she pointed to her heart--”they’re not thinking up here”--moving her hand to her head. “They’re not thinking if that dog bit that kid’s fingers off.”

By late afternoon, the block-long line had dwindled; at every update (“No snake, the snake’s adopted”) a few more drifted away. The pet snobs came and went. “Aren’t there any shar pei puppies? We were led to believe they had purebreds,” sniffed one woman.

Tiny, the hydrocephalic toy fox terrier with a pin in her leg, found a home. So did Silver, the cat with feline immune deficiency syndrome. Only Patches, a tortoise kitten, remained, and even some of the shelter’s dozens of non-celebrity pets had been adopted.

One of the last animals to leave was one who had been pledged already: Percy, the Chinese pug, first priced at $499 and sitting listlessly with an eye infection in the front of the Torrance shop.

Charles Troutman had been in the Del Amo Mall when the warrant was served. And every week, then every month, he called the SPCA about Percy. And on Friday, he turned up to claim him.

“He’s been in prison so long,” Troutman said.

An old sock, Whetstone told Troutman, was Percy’s favorite toy. And then she kissed him goodby.