Gary Prentiss sits in a rocking chair outside the house he rents at 133 Kennedy Memorial Drive in Waterville. Beside him is a large green sign that says “I Need A Place to Rent, to Live. Have Pets.”

He doesn’t like having to advertise his search so visibly, but he feels he has no choice as time is running out.

Two weeks ago his landlord told him he has a month to leave the house. Prentiss knows that finding a place that will take him, his four cats, three dogs and two lizards will be an uphill climb. But he has been praying someone, somewhere, has a small house to rent — someone who will understand that his animals are his family and he can’t live without them.

“I’d be willing to live in a shed if I had to,” he said. “It makes me very sad to think I would have to give up my animals just because I have to move.”

Prentiss, 61, is disabled from a traumatic brain injury he suffered 11 years ago. He also has chronic pain from other physical issues, including two destroyed rotator cuffs.

He is a gentle soul who is kind to animals and lives a simple life in the tiny, sparsely-furnished three-room house.

“I have no social life at all. I have no friends and no family. I’ll live in my truck if I have to. Each one of my animals needed help when I got them. They needed someone to take care of them and love them. I’m a perfect candidate because I have no life.”

There’s Missy, a black and white cat that was abused before he got her; Barney, a former barn cat, also black and white; Kid Kitty, a white cat that needed a home; and Shaky, a gray and white cat whose neurological problem makes him wobble back and forth uncontrollably and his back legs don’t work.

Prentiss sits on the step of his house holding Shaky and stroking his back until he stops wobbling and starts purring.

“I breathe on him and tell him I love him. He understands. You can’t kill something like this. Some people think they’re just dumb animals, but they got a right to live just like everybody else. He’s pretty cool. He’s my buddy. In the summer, sometimes I put him out on the grass. He can’t go anywhere because he can’t walk. Because of my brain injury, I can relate to him. Few people can spend 24/7 with their animals, but I can. Pretty much, my life is for my animals. I have a heart for them. I feel I was the perfect person for my animals. I love them.”

His dogs are Mack, a black and brown German Shepherd; Angel, a large, old, shy white dog; and Ginger, a tiny chestnut-colored miniature pinscher.

I met Ginger — and Prentiss — three years ago after Ginger got hit by a pickup truck and suffered a broken neck and skull fracture. The woman who struck her never stopped, but a man did to offer kind words as he thought the dog was dead. Prentiss was so distraught at the time, he didn’t get a chance to thank the man, who left a note on Prentiss’ door a couple of days later saying the same thing had happened to his family’s dog right in front of the family. The note offered Prentiss condolences and was signed only “John.”

Prentiss called me to ask if I could write something about the accident, as maybe John would read it and learn that Ginger had survived.

After I wrote a column, John called Prentiss from Texas, where he lives, and told him he had been visiting friends in Maine when he saw the accident involving Ginger. He later read the column online and was delighted to learn Ginger had survived the accident.

Prentiss, a slight man with brown eyes and tousled, graying hair, said he has lost 11 pounds in the last couple of weeks worrying about where he will live. He said maybe someone has a little house or the upstairs of a garage that would work.

“For 10 years I’ve lived here and have never, ever been behind on my rent. I’m on housing, section eight. I pay more than $200 rent a month and extra because of electricity because my lizards need light and they are in a cage. Maybe I could get a little, tiny house. I can’t get an apartment because I have animals.”

State workers who look after Prentiss helped him put an ad in Uncle Henry’s saying he is looking for a place to rent but no one has called, he said. The state workers, all women, understand he needs his animals, which are all friendly, he said.

As we talk, a pickup enters Prentiss’ driveway and a man named Marshall Cote gets out to update Prentiss on his efforts to help find him a place. Cote said he met Prentiss across the street at a mechanic’s shop and sympathizes with his plight.

“He is a good guy,” Cote said. “Because of the situation, I feel an obligation to try to assist him in any way I can.”

But Cote said he contacted several Waterville landlords and none had a place that would fit Prentiss’ needs. Prentiss, he said, is the type of person who doesn’t seek charity and would do more if he did not have a brain injury and physical problems.

Meanwhile, Prentiss said he sits out by the busy road with his sign so people can see what he looks like and understand that he would be a good tenant.

“I’m not a mean-looking person. I just figured people could see what they’re getting because I am a pretty nice person.”

He says he is grateful for what he gets in disability payments, and while it is not enough to live comfortably on, it allows him to eat and pay his rent. He also collects and sells scrap metal to garner enough money to feed his animals and pay their veterinarian bills, he said.

“I will never give up my animals. That’s betrayal. It’s like marriage, you know? It’s hard for me to explain. They are just as important to me. I love them because of the innocence of them. They can’t fend for themselves in life. I do the best I can to make them happy. They’re my therapy.”

Amy Calder has been a Morning Sentinel reporter for 28 years. Her column appears here Mondays. She may be reached at acalder@centralmaine.com. For previous Reporting Aside columns, go to centralmaine.com.

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