Story by Rebecca West
Tucson animal rescue and welfare advocates were saddened in late February to learn that one of their own had passed unexpectedly. That stalwart of the community was Kimberly Walker, founder of Pima Paws for Life. Her unexpected death has left a hole in the fabric of the rescue/welfare community for many and led to an outpouring of shared remembrances, one of which we wanted to include here. Our thoughts go out to her family and close friends…
Nancy Young Wright
Director, Rescue Me Tucson/Rescue Me Marana Pet Adoption Center
I was fortunate to know and work with Kimberly Walker for the past 12 years and to call her my friend. Kim opened her heart, her home, and the Pima Paws for Life (PPFL) shelter space when it mattered the most. We first worked together at PACC, then PPFL, and last at the Rescue Me Marana Pet Adoption Center, where we partnered to help PPFL animals be seen more easily and adopted. Her passing is a huge loss—and one we’ve only begun to measure.
Kimberly gave refuge to the community’s battered, starving, abused, lost, abandoned, or just plain unwanted animals. She and her staff found dozens of animals left in boxes or tied to the gate of the PPFL shelter over the years. They never turned them away. They just brought them in, assessed them, provided love, good food, enrichment, and veterinary care.
She helped the scared, the starving, the injured, the discarded. She was careful to provide all she could for an animal, even if it took away attention from her own needs. She was a creative thinker and problem-solver, so I wasn’t surprised to hear, after she passed, that she had a hidden artistic side I never had a chance to see.
Kim specialized in medical cases. In the animals coming in on a wing and a prayer, their bodies injured from fights, human harm, vehicle strikes, or disease. She took chances others didn’t want to take, and she fought hard for every animal in her care. Kim said “Yes” when others said “No.” She took cases sight unseen from rural areas and took the last ones on a transport after others had taken their first choice.
Saying “Yes” to any rescue animal, but especially to the most vulnerable ones that Kim accepted, carries an inherent risk. There is no way of knowing what you might be taking on—what the medical costs might be, or if the animal might ultimately be adoptable. Mostly, as she said, it was more about the time involved with a particular case than anything else.
Kim and I would meet up at the PPFL shelter off Ruthrauff and I-10—often after hours in the dark—where she received the broken, the bleeding, and the scared ones, and get to work. Kim was fun to be with even when the hour was late and the work was dirty, dangerous, and hard. She had a clever, understated sense of humor and could defuse tension and frustration with her wry observations.
Kim kept PPFL going through sheer will, grit, and determination. I doubt she ever took a real vacation since the doors to PPFL first opened. This kind of devotion comes with not only a financial price but an emotional and physical price as well. If you are in this business, you know the work can absolutely shred your soul, and it can also lift it up, sometimes within mere minutes.
When Kim and I last spoke, we talked about how we might rescue more cats. I had called her for advice about a cat colony that was losing its caretaker. She shared a dream she had to create a larger space for community cats. I offered to do some research and told her to count me in on the plans. We discussed other people to call for help for the colony, and then she rang off. We promised to get back in touch soon. It was mere days later that the call came in that Kim had been airlifted to Banner ER after a brain aneurysm, where she fought for almost three weeks to survive.
There will be more cases to be handled. More stories that are familiar yet different. More sweet but confused faces to meet. Those of us who knew and worked with Kimberly can take solace in knowing she did what she was born to do. When the hour grows late and we are weary, we can gain inspiration from Kim’s example and make it a few more miles until daybreak to finish the journey.
Kim, until we meet again, thank you. Thank you for being my friend and for being a constant presence that your friends, the community, and, most of all, the animals could count on. For mentoring. For teaching. For your strength. For saying “Yes” when others said “No” and for the constant love and courage you poured out on so many. We will miss you.
