Single, brown terrier seeking …

SAN JOSE, Calif. — Scott Delucchi writes personal ads — for pets. In nine months, only one of the Peninsula Humane Society pets he’s spotlighted — a blind pit bull named Charlie — was not adopted and had to be euthanized for health reasons. There’s no way of telling whether it’s Delucchi’s prose or the accompanying photo that does the trick. But after witnessing what spills out of Delucchi’s brain and into his word processor during a recent afternoon, it’s no wonder his Pet of the Week ads have developed a following. His weekly ritual begins with the name. Considering cat candidates, he rambled through the list, dispatching Mikey, Chloe, Pearl, Mithril (“never seen ‘Lord of the Rings’ “), Topper and Pumpkin (“one of those overused names”). Then he lighted on Mandy, a tabby. And the sarcasm flew:

“Oh, Mandy! If I hear one more visitor singing that crappy Barry Manilow song, I may hack up a fur ball on the spot. At just five years of age, I’m not old enough to remember the 1970s songster, but his music apparently lives on.”

This is what Delucchi, a humane society vice president, sends to a local newspaper. To print. Which they do, after taking out the word “crappy.”

There are many philosophies guiding pet ads. Shelters once preferred the guilt approach: If you don’t adopt me, they might kill me. Some liked it sugary — I’ll be your best friend and kiss you every night. The city of San Jose Animal Care Services also takes the talking-animal approach, but Humane Society Silicon Valley tells its volunteers to not pretend the animal is talking.

“Our organization wants to represent animals as they really are. They’re not humans in furry coats,” said Maureen Strenfel, that agency’s animal behaviorist.

Delucchi, 37, sees it differently. The Peninsula Humane Society, where he brings his dog Cooper every day, is a place of sweetness and despair. They match families and animals. They also have taken in strays that have been beaten, burned and abandoned.

We “see the best and the worst of humanity,” said Delucchi. “If we have a chance to have fun, we do it.”

Besides, Delucchi believes his approach works. “I really do feel that these slightly irreverent profiles grab people more than the standard ones,” Delucchi said.

Grabbing attention is the point. An ad — whether one is pushing cars, couches or cats — is about persuading people to come in and take the item home.

Various employees write ads and pet advice columns for small papers throughout San Mateo County, Calif. But Delucchi’s stand out. They are so funny that animal shelter volunteers lobby him to feature a favorite stray that still hasn’t been adopted, and some ask him to e-mail them his weekly ad early so they can get a sneak peek.

The shelter takes in 20,000 pets annually, and Delucchi tries to rotate his ads to feature dogs, cats and other household pets likes guinea pigs, birds and hamsters. Volunteer Donna Jensen, known as the Rabbit Lady, occasionally nudges him if she thinks he’s overlooked the rabbits.

No matter what animal is featured in the local paper, Jensen clips out the ad, glues it to heart-shaped paper and attaches it to the animal’s cage so new owners know they have a mini-celeb.

“I can’t wait till Wednesday and it’s Pet of the Week,” she said.

Delucchi has a weakness for unusual names and goofy animal photos. He needs a hook to write. He also delicately lists a pet’s foibles so a family will know that a certain dog should stay away from small children or has a skin irritation.

He saves his words for those that need an extra boost. That includes old animals, blind animals, fat animals and those that have been living in the shelter for months. The shelter doesn’t euthanize healthy pets, and most get a home in about two weeks.

Some critters don’t need his help. He rarely showcases kittens and puppies — the young and cute go fast. So do three-legged cats.

But then there are cases like Tikaboy, an American Eskimo who arrived with matted fur and got shorn. Delucchi rewarded the dog with his own brand of twisted sympathy.

“You can call it a summer coat, bed head or just plain old bad hair day. I know, American Eskimos are supposed to have long, fluffy white coats and mine, well, isn’t. … Maybe I need to go on that new show ‘Queer Eye for the Stray Guy.’ “