A cat started it all.
Nothing much to look at, just an ordinary calico cat that wandered into a home,
a heart, and a new life.
Craig Grant had to decide if he was going to care for the cat his son could not
take, or leave it to an uncertain, but likely cruel fate. But it wasn’t his
decision to make. It was Pepper’s. And Pepper...
became Craig’s cat.
And one cat became two, and then two more, and finally the flock overwhelmed
the heart and became bigger than the house. So Craig did what he knew he was
meant to do. He became the savior of cats. The shepherd of lost kittens. The
kind of man with the kind of dream America needs. He knew he had to save, not
kill. Create, not destroy. Define your dream, marshal all your resources, and do
it.
So with his goal in mind, Craig used all his savings, his creativity, and his
persistence to build what would become Caboodle Ranch, the largest free-range
cat sanctuary in the world (Guinness Book of World Records, 2012).
He searched for the right kind of property. One with no restrictions on the
numbers of animals. Maybe in a poor county, where he could offer jobs to local
people and others could benefit. And in 2003, he found the right spot. Thirty
acres of woods in Madison County Florida. This was ranch country, so his
daughter named the spread the Caboodle Ranch. And a magical place was born.
There were a few cats at first, but as the word got out that there was a place
that could give cats a second chance at life, a place where feral cats, sick
cats, old unadoptable cats, could live without cages and without the constant
threat of the needle, well, in 2003, the cats started coming.
By January of 2012, 653 cats lived a happy, safe life at Caboodle Ranch. By
March of 2012, the cats were gone. What happened? Where did the cats go? And
why were they taken? There were two reasons, one local and one political.
For some unknown reason, the Madison County Board of Commissioners decided the
county really, really needed an ordinance to control the number of animals
allowed on 2 1/2 acres or more. Not the cattle or goats, or bison, but the cats
or dogs. It was very important to have this ordinance, so the Excess Animal
Habitat Ordinance was created. The EAH would limit the number to 30, but a
sanctuary could apply for a permit, if it could meet all the requirements that
the county could think of. And Craig applied for the permit and began to work.
So while he sweated and worked, and thought he was exactly on the right track,
and spent thousands on fencing and barns, and whatever they came up with next,
the raid was being planned. Craig was given a deadline of March 27 to finish
all the requirements for the permit, but a month before the deadline, they
struck.
On February 27, 2012, the rainiest day in Florida in months, the Sheriff’s
Department, the ASPCA, and hundreds of volunteers from rescue groups flown in
from all over the country, poured onto the ranch. Sheriff’s deputies arrested
Craig Grant for animal abuse. The raiders chased the terrified cats, caught
them and put them into carriers and then into a truck. They turned over the
charming little buildings; they tore down part of the fencing; they carted away
Craig’s files, his money, his medicines, his dream.
The cats were put in cages in an unused shelter in Jacksonville. Everyone was
assured that this would be over soon, and the cats, at least those that were
adoptable, would soon be happier than they ever dreamed. Those that were still
alive, that is. The ASPCA , the victorious rescuers of already rescued cats,
they announced the incredible victory over a hoarder, a criminal abuser,
someone who should never, never even hold a cat again.
There were hearings to be heard, and trials to be tried, and all the while the
cats were in cages in a hot building in Florida all through March, April, May,
June, July, and part of August. The cost didn’t matter, as the ASPCA had told
the sheriff the raid wouldn’t cost the county a penny. After all, donations
funded all the ASPCA rescues. That was such a coup for the county. No more
Caboodle cats that annoyed somebody, somewhere enough to want to wipe them off
the map.
Victory is ours, said the ASPCA, but you know what? Let’s see if we can have
the Sheriff get Caboodle Ranch pay us back for our expenses. Even though we
don’t have to do that, our donations take care of rescue events, why, we have
spent $700,000 on car rentals, $150,000 on airline tickets, $15,000 on
pheromones to calm the cats and just a teeny, teeny bit on Dilly Bars from
Dairy Queen! Maybe we can get a few nickels from the broken man. The costs
hearing is being scheduled.
So for months the cats lived in their cages. They had vet care, just like they
did at the ranch. They had ample food, just like they had at the ranch. They
had volunteers to watch over them, but they didn’t have their Papa. They didn’t
have their freedom, and some of them soon, wouldn’t have their lives.
Oh, there was another reason for the raid. A political one. Some annoying
legislators wanted to pass a law making it illegal for shelters to kill an
animal when a qualified non-profit rescue organization is willing to save that
animal. Some people didn’t want that law. No-kill shelters might end up as
hoarders by taking in more animals than they could handle. It could happen. It
might be kinder to the animals if they died before they could suffer the abuse
of over-crowding. Keep them in the kill shelters.
How can that proposed law be stopped? How about if someone makes an
incriminating, misleading video of a sanctuary, then persuades the sheriff to
take the video as evidence of abuse to the state attorney, who after
considering the possibilities, decides to press charges against the sanctuary.
A huge, dramatic raid would be a perfect public relations event. Let’s do it.
So they did. And with the raid, the accusations, the hearings, the trials, the
legal fees, they—the unknowns who wanted Caboodle to be a memory—they broke the
man. They “disposed” of almost all of his cats, and in spite of a court order
demanding that the ASPCA make a good faith effort to locate and identify
Craig’s personal pets, Tommy, Meatball, Toot, Snoop Dog, and Crackers, Craig
hasn’t seen any of his cats for months. The ASPCA was also asked to keep them
from being adopted, and to hold them until the court decides to end Craig’s
despair, and return them to him. Nobody knows where they are or if they are
even alive. And the ridiculous charges of animal abuse against the cat man
still loom.
There is already a book called An American Tragedy, so I won’t borrow that
title, but the name fits. Caboodle Ranch has been taken from Craig Grant, but
also from all the people who had lost jobs, then houses, and found a home for
their beloved pets at the ranch. It’s lost to the shelters that were
overcrowded, who knew Craig would take in their excess cats. It’s lost to the
tourists and visitors who came by the hundreds, and then spent their money in
local shops. It’s lost to the volunteers who got so much personal satisfaction
because they knew they were helping families and animals and Craig.
The trials and hearings are not over. For Craig, the threat of jail time
exists; the threat of poverty is real. The legal bills are huge, but thousands
of Caboodle Ranch fans are praying for Craig to prevail, and are sending
donations, writing letters, sharing the story on Facebook and Twitter.
Out of the ashes a new Caboodle Ranch will be born, but certainly not in
Madison County, Florida. And a new group of unwanted, unloved cats or just
plain unlucky cats, will be given a second chance at life. And, as he was meant
do to, at the helm will be Craig Grant, a man building his dream.