The Cat in Cage 4

The stray kitten was hungry and frightened, but somehow he understood my wife was going to help him. She picked him up from the middle of the parking lot and brought him home. He had been lost so long he was as much feral as stray, but slowly he learned to trust us. We tried to find him a home, but he was still just a little too wild for anyone to take. So as a last resort we decided to take him to the animal shelter. It was a big urban one and they had a lot of people coming in, so we assured ourselves he'd get adopted even if he still was a little wild. It was nonsense. A half wild stray doesn't last two days in an overcrowded shelter. Euthanization was inevitable. We just refused to admit it.

When I brought him in and tried to pass him over to the shelter worker he panicked and jumped. He ran for his life. He knew this was a death sentence. The poor kitten ran full speed, collided with the door, and huddled in terror. He then looked up at me and meowed for help. I grabbed him. I should have left with him, and saved him. Instead, I closed my mind to what was happening and gave him to the worker. I refused to acknowledge it, but deep down I really knew I had just killed this kitten who had trusted me. I had sent him to his death.

That was many years ago. Since then we've always had several cats, all rescues. We've rescued strays and fed ferals. But none of it had never made up for this killing.

This year we began helping a new cat rescue group. Our focus is pulling cats and kittens from the local shelter. This shelter had a 90% kill rate of cats last year so they needed, and welcomed, help. We also rescue some of the more desperate community cases - typically, but not always, unwanted litters dumped by callous people. Among us we've saved a couple of hundred cats this summer.

On Wednesday, I filled in for someone else at our rescue on a regular task. It was one I hadn't done before. I was to go to the animal shelter in person, count the number of cats and kittens, and assess which ones we might pull based on our resources and an animal’s potential adoptability (kittens over adults, orange over black, friendly over shy, etc). Many of those left behind were to be euthanized by the shelter on Friday. Basically, I was to determine which animals lived and which died. I knew I could do it well, after alI I wasn't one of those overly emotional crazy cat ladies. I approached the job dispassionately, coldly. I went in with notepad and pen in hand. I walked slowly past the cages simply noting down the occupants: “Cage 1. Three kittens, black, long haired. Cage 2. One adult, tabby…” and so on. Count, write, move on.

While doing my counting I noticed the adult cat in Cage 4 was just sitting and watching me steadily the whole time. When I was nearly finished something suddenly forced me to reach out and put my hand in the cage and pet her. She rubbed against my fingers and purred. I lost it. My shield instantly disappeared. She was a loving, thinking, feeling creature not an occupant of a cage. They were all living, feeling creatures, not numbers on a notepad. I fell apart. I couldn't send them to their deaths. All the emotions and memories about that kitten who died all those years ago came flooding back. I couldn't coldly send these animals to their deaths. Not again.

Fortunately, some people at our rescue group stepped in to take action after they heard my desperate plea for these cats’ lives. We creatively found the space to take just enough cats to empty just enough cages that the shelter need not euthanize this week. We will worry about next week, next week.

Thank you Cage 4 Cat for piercing my armour and saving my life as well as your own.