On a recent Thursday evening, the building at 1065 MacArthur Road is bustling with activity.

In one room, a small dog stands fixated on a Peaceable Kindgom volunteer.

"He's waiting for someone to give him a treat," said Kathy Tomecek, a Catasauqua resident now in her second year as chairman of the Peaceable Kingdom board.

Sure enough, the dog gets what he is expecting.

Meanwhile, a small white poodle named Einstein looks out at visitors from inside his Elizabethan collar. He was recently neutered, said Tomecek.

Bella, a white bulldog mix, barks for attention. She will need a special home, said Tomecek. She tends to bond with one individual and not with others in the household. She will need to be placed with a single individual who can spend a lot of time with her.

She needs someone "with no life," quipped Tomecek, who has volunteered with the group for 12 years.

The room's residents – about nine small dogs – have the best chance of getting adopted of all the Peaceable Kingdom residents, she said.

Larger dogs are housed downstairs.

"This is what gets dropped off." said Tomecek. "We come and find them tied to the door."

For Peaceable Kindgom, the building is both a blessing and a curse. It helps to have a home base from which to work but the visibility also makes the group vulnerable to irresponsible people.

Once, for example, volunteers arrived to find two plastic containers filled with cats. One of them was a mother giving birth. Neither she nor her kittens survived.

Another time, volunteers found a kitten in one of the dog cages. Viewing the security camera tapes, volunteers discovered someone had come by when the shelter was open and tossed the kitten inside the building.

Most of the calls the shelter receives are people wanting to drop off animals.

"I call everyone back. They might not like that I say no," Tomecek said.

Pit bulls in particular remain at the shelter a long time, she said. In general, larger dogs are harder to adopt out than the smaller ones.

In a room upstairs next to the small dog room, volunteers cleaned the cat room. A few cats are caged for medical reasons but most of them have the run of the room.

From on top of a cat tree, Frannie, a black longhair who appears to be a Persian mix, rolls around, purrs and kneads the air for the visitors.

Gretchen, who is white with patches of gray tabby, decides to climb into the arms of a cat room visitor.

"She likes to be in your arms," said one of the volunteers.

Most of the cats are long-term residents.

"They're happy here," said Tomecek.

The trouble is, this severely limits the space available for incoming animals.

Peaceable Kingdom is a no-kill shelter, which means it does not "euthanize" animals unless they are severely aggressive or seriously ill.

As a result, one animal needs to find a new home before the shelter can take in another.

Several years ago, PK staff veterinarian Dr. Lori Melot was upset because the cat room had about 80 residents – too many to maintain a healthy environment.

One of the ways the organization dealt with the issue is to stop doing animal control.

Previously, Peaceable Kingdom would enter contracts with area munipalities for which the group was paid a flat rate of about $4,000.

"It looks good on paper," said Tomecek. But, the contracts specify the group must take each and every animal brought to the shelter. One requiring extensive veterinary care will eat up half the stipend, Tomecek said.

For example, surgery for a dog with a broken leg amounted to $1,300.

"We just paid an $800 vet bill for one dog who will be adopted out for $200," Tomecek said.

Last year, Peaceable Kingdom found homes for 900 animals. Even with adoption fees – $200 for a dog and $80 for a cat – it's not enough.

"You cannot pay your bills on adoptions," said Tomecek. "You can't depend on that income."

Peaceable Kingdom has been moving toward a business model in order to manage its finances.

Its spay/neuter services are its "bread and butter," said Tomecek. Every Monday, Wednesday and Saturday, the group does 20 to 30 spay/neuter surgeries. A veterinarian in private practice would do three or four surgeries a day.

Because the group handles so much cash, the board has put into place procedures designed to hold everyone accountable. As a result, said Tomecek, "We do have a little bit of money in the bank."

Of course, it's not a lot of money. But it's a start, she said.

About 100 volunteers run the organization. Some work an hour a month. Others work several times a week.

"We have a lot of great people but at the end of the day, they're volunteers," said Tomecek. Volunteers have other obligations – from family to work – which can prevent them from being able to help.

"Somebody's got to be here for the animals," Tomecek said.

As a result, the group now pays one person to manage the shelter.

Veterinary staff are also paid.

"Our medical services really are our biggest expense, but a necessary expense," said Tomecek.

Milot does both spay/neuter and other surgeries for the shelter.

Both staff and volunteers take on multiple roles. In addition to being chairman of the board, Tomecek is the "kitten coordinator." She works with a network of people who provide foster care for the more than 100 kittens the shleter now has.

They are the ones with the best chance of adoption, though the window of opportunity is small.

"With kittens, once they look like cats no one wants them," she said.

Volunteers are woking with a number of litters of very shy and feral kittens in hopes of socializing them and finding them homes.

"Most people ... don't want the one hiding in the back of the cage," Tomecek said.

Unfortunately, kittens come in overwhelming numbers this time of year. This is one of the reasons the group pushes spay/neuter services.

"We do a lot of education with these people," she said. "I think we all feel it's our gift to give back to the community and society."