In a life of purple-haze twists and tie-dyed turns, a few constants have anchored Maddy Sobel: Her artwork, making jams and jellies, and the Grateful Dead. But after three strokes, a head injury and a bout of seizures, nothing has been more important than her faithful support dogs.
First came Misha, a gorgeous sable German shepherd who passed away in 2017. She’s buried beneath a rock garden in Maddy’s front yard in Point Reyes Station, just down Highway 1 from the school. Next came Buddy, a 100-pound Great Pyrenees-shepherd mix with a sixth sense that tells him when Maddy might be in trouble.
When injuries stopped her from working and her disability check wasn’t enough, Maddy turned to the Marin Humane Society. It helped with food, toys, leashes—all through a program known as the Pet Safety Net. Now Maddy is the program’s volunteer representative in West Marin, offering supplies to dozens of pet owners who are struggling to make ends meet.
“I never turn anyone away,” Maddy said. “There’s no judgment. Maybe they used to have a great job and now they don’t. We’re just going to make sure that their animals have what they need.”
The goal is to ensure that no pet is separated from its owner, and no owner is separated from their pet. “Everyone needs comfort,” Maddy said. “And having a pet is a great source of comfort.”
She has nearly 50 clients in all. The regulars come every two weeks; others just show up when they’re low on money. Some are seniors on fixed incomes, some are 20-somethings working retail. They come from every corner of West Marin.
There’s a woman who lives in her van with a Chihuahua named Biggie Smalls and a guy who lives on a boat with a shepherd named Chunky Chunks. There’s a ranch family with five fluffy white poodles and a Marine veteran with a brain injury and a pit bull support dog.
“We help people from 18 to 80,” Maddy said. “We’ll help anyone who is in need. Pet food is expensive. A 4-pound bag of kibble can cost $39 at the Palace Market. A can of cat food costs over $2, and that’s before tax. If you’re living over at Walnut Place, on Social Security, that’s a hit.”
The program sometimes helps with veterinarians’ bills. “I begged Chunky Chunks’ owner to spay her, but he said he couldn’t afford it. So I got Humane to do it,” Maddy said. “She had had three litters and 32 puppies.”
Maddy began her volunteer efforts in November 2019, just before the dawn of the pandemic. “The big plan at first was to make it through Covid so the animals wouldn’t feel the stress of people’s financial challenges. It’s been going consistently since then, and there’s no end in sight,” she said.
She started by posting notices at the food bank and the post office. She kept a log of what people needed and called in orders to Marin Humane, which delivers food and other supplies to her house every two weeks. Nowadays, people learn about her by word of mouth.
“She knows everyone and everything that’s going on,” said Annie Humphrey, the Humane Society’s community engagement manager. “She’s referred loads of people to us who need more than just the supplies she has. She knows when people’s pets are ill and they need help with a vet bill. She’s a good neighbor.”
The Humane Society’s approach to animal sheltering has changed over the years, Ms. Humphrey said: “It’s less about bringing animals into the shelter and finding them new homes and more about trying to keep them where they are loved and cared for.”
Food from the Pet Safety Net program made all the difference to Betty Grinshtein and her 15-year-old dog Cookie. At the time, Ms. Grinshtein was working at the former Cowgirl Creamery and trying to start her own line of organic body care products.
“Cookie was a terrier-Chihuahua mix, a really awesome mutt, and all her food came from Maddy,” Ms. Grinshtein said. “I was on a budget, and it would have cost hundreds of dollars. It made a huge difference to me.”
Even better, the food was organic. “I’m a huge hippie, and that’s very important to me,” she said. “Organic should be the standard for all living creatures.”
As Cookie got older and her organs began to fail, Maddy procured some doggy diapers for her. And when she passed away last summer, just shy of her 18th birthday, the Humane Society helped cover the expenses.
“I met Maddy because I love jam, and I bought some of her jam, and we started talking,” Ms. Grinshtein said. “She’s a true survivalist. She’ll keep going, making art, making jam, handing out dog food. She’s always starting or wrapping up a project, and I really respect that. Because when life is hard, if you just go from one project to another, you don’t have time to be depressed.”
Animals have been a part of Maddy’s life for as long as she can remember, through her childhood in New Jersey, her art school years in Pasadena, her stay in a converted Sonoma chinchilla coop and her days running the Bolinas Bay Bakery and Café with her ex-husband, whom she met on a cruise ship to London and subsequently bumped into at several of the 492 Grateful Dead shows she has seen over her 58 years.
A black-and-white photo of Jerry Garcia, taken by a friend, hangs in the hallway of her rented bungalow. Leaning against her backyard fence is a faded sign that once stood atop the bakery: Garcia dressed as Uncle Sam. In a previous incarnation, before a new coat of paint, it was Jerry as Santa Claus, climbing out of the chimney.
The Dead paraphernalia hanging on her walls is scattered among her own artwork, which features, among other things, an endless array of animals: koalas, lions, wolves, giraffes, camels, butterflies, cats and, of course, dogs.
Around her backyard are trees and shrubs bearing some of the fruits, berries and herbs that Maddy has been converting into 35 varieties of jams and jellies for 27 years. There are mulberries and gooseberries, blackberries and raspberries, lavender and mint. Her current winter menu features three marmalades: pink grapefruit, Meyer lemon and orange. She procures the oranges from around the corner, at Toby’s Feed Barn.
Her front yard and back were first fenced in for Misha, and now Buddy, whom she adopted after waiting in vain for the right dog to become available at the Humane Society. To make a very long story short, Maddy got Buddy from a tall man with tattoos up his neck and a toothless friend named Abraham the Pickle Man. She was buying jam jars; the tall man was buying pee pads for a litter of 10 puppies. Her feet clad in Birkenstocks, Maddy went to pick one out. She knew Buddy was the one when he started nursing on her toe.