A different kind of cop

"I'm no hero," Brusatori said.

But Brusatori has wrestled attack dogs to the ground and approached their owners -- sometimes even more aggressive -- with citations.

She likes to be working from the seat of her pants, occasionally reaching into the back of her large white animal control truck and pulling out an asthma breathalyzer when times get tough.

But after 15 years on the job, Brusatori still holds the same enthusiasm for her humane officer job that initially brought her to the steps of the Peninsula Humane Society.

"I like the excitement of being outside and never knowing what's going to happen. It has the same old routine sometimes, but you never know how the calls are going to go," she said.

Most of the calls Brusatori goes on are similar to the loose leash violation that brought her to Keesha, a fluffy yet harried-looking Samoyed dog who lives and roams around King Street in San Mateo. Neighbors tired of cleaning up after Keesha and seeing the dog sniff their flower beds called animal control with a complaint.

Brusatori chased Keesha into the backyard of the house and yelled over the fence to the owner, who has angrily sworn at her in the past when she's come.

"I think this guy works at night and that might be why he's so uncooperative -- too bad," she said before writing out a notice for him to call. He will likely be getting a citation in the near future, which may be well into the hundreds of dollars because he's violated the county's leash laws many times before.

Many of the people she deals with every day swear and threaten her for enforcing laws they consider insignificant or even a joke. But many of them also sober up when they realize that punishment for letting their animals run wild or harboring a dangerous animal without a permit could mean heavy fines or even criminal charges.

"I have seen dogs in the worst state where the owners deny that their dog can do any of that [violence]," she said. "There's some scary people out there when you take away an animal that's become part of their family."

And it seems like Brusatori is always fighting the stereotypes of being called the local "dog catcher" who brings in animals to be killed.

"I guess it's the same as a police officer called a pig. I get called names all day long. It comes with the territory," she said.

Brusatori prefaces that by saying on some extreme occasions, euthanasia does have to happen, but she said she wouldn't be doing the job if she didn't feel its importance.

Removing dead animals from streets and sidewalks for humane disposal, saving animals from neglectful and abusive situations and protecting pets and the general public from aggressive animals are just some of her daily responsibilities that makes work rewarding.

"Even if it's a wild animal hit, you've saved it. It would have starved to death and died. It's rewarding to see an animal play its life out," she said.

Brusatori responded to a call for a raccoon hit on Alameda de las Pulgas. Its jaw dislocated and its head injured, the fate of this 50-pound raccoon would have been far different if not for the wildlife rehabilitation center at PHS, which will house him and fix him up before sending him back out with Brusatori for release.

Brusatori said the county is teeming with wildlife for which she responds every day -- mostly raccoon, deer, skunk and opossum. Just over 2,000 wild animals were recorded hit last year in the county.

And then there's the occasional exotic animal humane officers come across -- like the alligators she found in Belmont a few years ago, or the four-month-old mountain lion she encountered. The mountain lion's owner brought it from Missouri where apparently it is legal to own.

"He honestly thought if he could purchase it in another state he could have it in this county," she said. "She was very cute but it's sad to see an exotic animal like that be taken into a home -- they are not pets."

Lately Brusatori and her fellow humane officers have been responding to a record number of dog-related calls, up 20 percent because of the recent fatal attack of a San Francisco woman by two bull mastiffs.

Although the increased number of calls is likely linked to heightened sensitivity, Brusatori said there's real cause for concern about dogs.

"We're getting bigger and meaner breeds," she said.

About 150 dangerous dogs are currently registered in the county -- one-third of them pitbulls with German shepherds and rottweilers following close behind. These are animals that have attacked a person or another animal and need a special permit.

Many of them are bred in backyards, in flagrant violation of the pet overpopulation ordinance that restricts breeding to licensed owners. And many are also bred to be particularly lethal -- like mixes of rottweilers with pitbulls or some that have wolf ancestry.

Despite dealing with a daily dose of negativity that could give her a solid exterior, inside Brusatori melts even for the aggressive animals she handles.

"You get emotionally attached to some of the animals," Brusatori said after feeding pieces of her bologna sandwich to a loose Dalmatian, abandoned off Aragon Boulevard, to catch him and bring him back to PHS for rehabilitation and hopefully adoption.

"There are ones when you want to see them through to a new home. ... There are days I'm in tears all day long. And then I regroup and go back out there and do it again."