We're standing in the parking lot of a warehouse on the outskirts of Sacramento, California, at 8 AM on a dreary January day. Across the tarmac is Loaves and Fishes, the city's largest shelter for homeless people. The shelter feeds hundreds of people hot meals each week and provides laundry facilities, some clothing and other necessities. Adjacent to the warehouse is Friendship Park, with sparse grass, a few trees, some benches and tables, and a small office run by shelter volunteers. The park offers a place to rest tired feet, get hot or cold drinks, or check on temporary jobs available through a list kept by the shelter.
Homeless people socialize here and seem to feel a sense of community.
The cold is biting, and I'm grateful for my warm down jacket. Most of the crowd of about 15 people have on clothing that is too thin for this weather, badly worn and patched. Their shoes have holes and soles reinforced with cardboard, and there are few mittens and caps. Milling around the people, on leads, or in cardboard boxes, wire carriers, battered bags or held in arms are dogs and cats of every description. In line with the national trend, the number of homeless people in Sacramento and nearby smaller towns has grown significantly over the past several years and, with it, the number of animal companions who live with them or who have been adopted by them from the streets.