On a rainy night just before Christmas four years ago, Cheryl Wicks became a pet's best friend.

A man from North San Juan brought nine 7-month-old puppies to the Nevada County Animal Shelter on McCourtney Road and told the newly minted volunteer he doubted the pups would live to see the new year.

At the time, more than two out of three animals brought to the shelter each year were euthanized. Most of them were left to sit and sleep in kennels without anyone to walk, feed or bathe them on a regular basis, said Nevada County Sheriff's Lt. Ron Earles, who oversees the shelter.

Wicks, a former human resources manager for Apple and Hewlett-Packard who has no children, decided then that she would dedicate her life to helping seemingly helpless animals.

"I just started treating animals the way I would like to be treated," she said

Within two weeks, the pups brought into the shelter were placed with families. Four of the dogs still live in Nevada County, Wicks said.

The experience made Wicks, now the volunteer coordinator for the Nevada County Animal Shelter, realize the importance of pets in people's lives. For the past four years, Wicks has turned an unpaid labor of love into a full-time volunteer effort to raise the county's consciousness about giving all stray pets a home.

While her wallet is lighter these days because of it, her heart brims with pride each time an animal is taken from the shelter and placed in a home.

It's not uncommon for Wicks to drive Nevada County strays to Auburn, San Jose, Manteca, even into Canada to find a home.

Wicks estimates she's driven 200 animals to new homes in California over the past four years. She's helped place hundreds more with the help of a close-knit group of animal activists in Nevada County.

The question, one begs to ask, is why?

"It's because I get to feel like a million bucks every day. I get to feel great about myself," she said, showcasing a ring with the birthstones of each of her pets to a visitor.

'This is my passion'

As a child growing up on a 160-acre livestock farm in Sisseton, S.D., Wicks helped her family raise horses, cows, pigs and sheep. Animals were a part of her life, but it would be years before Wicks, who worked in juvenile detention facilities and still runs a employee-consulting firm on the side, fully embraced her animal instincts.

A Shar-Pei named Sammie, adopted by Wicks in 1991, helped turn the high-powered executive into an advocate for less-fortunate four-legged creatures.

Wicks proudly wears a pendant molded in the shape of Sammie, now 14 and blind. The dog spends his days lounging on the floor of Wicks' downtown Grass Valley home or in a basket custom-made for Wicks' best friend.

The dog also serves as mascot for a nonprofit founded by Wicks and her partner, Curt Romander, that helps pay for treatment of animals adopted from the shelter.

In the past year, the nonprofit helped repair dog hernias, paid for heartworm treatments, helped an owner pay to remove foxtails from cats, and treated a kitten's upper respiratory infections.

Wicks estimates the nonprofit shelled out $15,000 in treatments the past two years.

"I don't think what I'm doing is more important than any other good cause, but this is my passion," Wicks said.

A team effort

If she were an animal, Wicks said, she'd be a pit bull, simply because she grabs onto something and never lets it go.

To that end, Wicks has worked tirelessly with a group of about 100 volunteers and the animal shelter's paid staff to reduce the shelter's euthanasia rate dramatically in the past several years.

In 1998, nearly two-thirds of the more than 3,000 animals brought into the shelter were euthanized.

In the first half of 2005, Wicks said, the euthanasia rate at the shelter stood at less than 5 percent.

"Everybody doing a little bit makes a huge difference," said Wicks.

Specifically, Wicks credits county shelter kennel attendant Ruth Rasmussen and Dawn Allmandinger, who helps find pet owners through the New Dawn Dog Rescue Web site.

"They're the driving force, but lots of people have helped out," Wicks said.

Wicks said the 14,000 hours donated by volunteers in 2004 did the work of seven full-time shelter workers.

Anna Drummond, who runs the nonprofit Pet Adoption League, said the job Wicks has amounts to a calling.

"I wish everyone in the county could go to the shelter and work for a month to see what it's like," Drummond said. "I know how hard people like Cheryl work to get it done. It's very hard to stick with it, but when I see people like Cheryl and Dawn and Ruth working, it keeps me going."

There are times when Wicks works into the early morning hours, calling prospective pet owners or placing animals on Allmandinger's Web site.

"I get way more done being on my own than if I worked for the county," Wicks said.

How to Help • To volunteer at the Nevada County Animal Shelter, call 272-8833. • Donations to Sammie's Friends can be made to Sammie's Friends, 128 High St. Grass Valley 95945 at 272-8833. Sammie's Friends can also be found online at <A HREF="www.sammiesfriends.org" TARGET="NEW">www.sammiesfriends.org</A>

Uncertain future

Wicks worries about what might happen if she simply decided to do something else. So do people like Drummond, who said the euthanasia rate would probably climb quickly to levels last seen nearly a decade ago.

"We'd be back to square one if Cheryl didn't have the freedom to do what she wanted to do," Drummond said.

Without Wicks' work - and that of Rasmussen and Allmandinger - there wouldn't be enough people to do what they do. While there are plenty of volunteers, they probably can't be asked to drive a poodle to Camptonville at 6 a.m.

"Volunteers like to do finite things. They don't want the ongoing responsibility," Wicks said.

Wicks is already preparing for a time when she cuts back on her duties. Sammie's Friends, she said, will be fully self-sufficient by the end of the year, and the building of a no-kill animal shelter on Rough and Ready Highway will help relieve some pressure, as well.

Until then, Wicks plans to continue walking the terriers and feeding the tabbies dropped off at the shelter. It's a job that gives Wicks much more satisfaction than any paycheck ever could.

"I'd much rather fill up my heart and soul than my pocketbook," she said.

<I>To contact staff writer David Mirhadi, e-mail davidm@theunion.com or call 477-4229.</I>