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Her pet project

Growing up, Eileen Smulson was perfectly happy not owning a dog. Unlike her pet-touting friends, she couldn’t connect with animals, least of all her family’s goldfish and baby turtle. She would hug her friends’ dogs out of courtesy – “for two seconds and that’s it,” she said.
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November 19, 2010

Growing up, Eileen Smulson was perfectly happy not owning a dog. Unlike her pet-touting friends, she couldn’t connect with animals, least of all her family’s goldfish and baby turtle. She would hug her friends’ dogs out of courtesy – “for two seconds and that’s it,” she said.

Although dog-kind bored Smulson, mankind was always a priority. She spent the first 20 years of her career trying to save it, working for the American Cancer Society, the Anti-Defamation League and ARMDI (American Red Magen David for Israel), where she served as Western regional director.

But seven years ago, a lag in Smulson’s career led her husband, an animal lover, to make a preposterous suggestion — rescue a dog. He thought it would add to their lives.

Smulson balked. She had never owned a pet, never wanted to.

“I was really afraid,” she said. “How can a dog be your friend? You can’t speak to it.”

Yet she went ahead with it and brought home a 6-month-old terrier-poodle mix named Ginger. After a few training classes with her new pup, Smulson realized what her life had always been missing. And Ginger was it.

“She’s my inspiration,” Smulson said.

Smulson’s instinct for charity quickly kicked in. At a visit to a shelter in the West San Fernando Valley, Smulson noticed several dogs shivering in the corners of their bare cells. She sent in a complaint, and the manager, Jan Selder, responded, inviting Smulson on a private tour of the shelter.

Smulson was impressed by Selder’s commitment to improving the shelter and asked if there was anything she could do to help. Selder mentioned that the budget didn’t cover comfort items like blankets and pet beds. Maybe Smulson could collect a few, Selder suggested.

Drawing on 20 years of fundraising, marketing, public relations and entrepreneurial experience, Smulson returned with hundreds of blankets. In fact, after several more donations, Selder told her she didn’t need more, but that other shelters might.

And so, Operation Blankets of Love was born.

“A lot of people do this kind of thing for a couple months, but it’s exhausting and they give up,” said Selder, now the operations director for Valley shelters. “Not her. She turned it into something amazing.”

According to Selder and Smulson, blankets instantly improve a homeless dog’s life. Videos on Smulson’s Web site show dogs newly gifted with blankets immediately perking up and cuddling into them. A happier dog, Smulson said, is a more adoptable dog.

“When you give a blanket, you’re going to save the life of an animal,” Smulson said.

At first, Smulson received the bulk of donations from cardboard boxes she put in local mom-and-pop stores. But in two short years, Smulson has since teamed up with corporations like Best Buy, Cheesecake Factory and Yoga Fit to aid her effort.

Now in her “third season,” Smulson has collected more than a quarter-million comfort items — not just blankets, but also collars, leashes, beds, toys and treats. After reaching out to the six City of Los Angeles shelters, she started working with L.A. County. Today, her charity, a registered nonprofit, serves shelters all over Southern California.

“We’re like the animal Red Cross to the animal rescue world,” she said.

Smulson said her Judaism informs her charity “100 percent — it’s tzedakah.” She grew up always giving back to “people who didn’t have enough to make life better.”

“I’m using everything I learned — to be charitable, to be a good Jew, to be good to people, to be kind,” she said.

Her short-term goal is to double the number of animals she helps — about 1,000 a month at the moment. And it isn’t only dogs. Most shelters have a sizable cat population. Smulson has also worked with pot-bellied pig rescue, bunny rescue and horse rescue. One of her blankets ended up with a baby gorilla at the L.A. Zoo, another with a pregnant goat. 

Although Smulson has a few volunteers who help deliver the blankets to the shelters, she does the bulk of the work herself, putting in 50 to 60 hours a week, Monday through Sunday.

“When I go to shelters, my heart breaks, and I know I have to keep going,” she said.

Always by Smulson’s side is her own rescued dog, Ginger. Smulson takes her everywhere — to restaurants (ones that allow pets), wine tastings, schools, treatment centers. It was Ginger who made Operation Blankets of Love possible, and Smulson is confident the charity will continue to be successful.

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