A Year in the Life of a Cat Shelter Worker

March 13, 2026

13 Mar 2026 14:43

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟕𝟐: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝐈 𝐖𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟒𝟖: 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐀 𝐋𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠It's been a week since I last wrote. Life at the shelter doesn't pause for blog posts, and somewhere in the middle of everything, I just ran out of road. But I was reminded recently that people are reading this, and more importantly, I was reminded why I started it in the first place. I needed somewhere to put it all down, process it, and find my peace. So here we are. Buckle up, because it's been a week.𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬Ten intakes in seven days. Three seniors, one adult, a litter of five kittens who are absolutely ridiculous in the best possible way, and a singleton. The reasons people surrender their cats are a window into human life in all its complexity. An owner who passed away, a family relocating, one person who just said they "can't deal with him anymore," a few stray drop-offs, and one intake that was so strange I'm still turning it over in my head. Someone essentially abandoned a cat on the property in what I can only describe as one of the weirdest things I've witnessed in this job. You know the kind of moment where you stop and think ...did that really just happen? Yeah. That.We also had seven adoptions, which is something to celebrate. One of those was a kitten whose adopter had been patiently waiting through a whole journey; an ear polyp, monitoring, making sure it wasn't coming back. That kind of patience from an adopter restores your faith in people.And then there were the five we said goodbye to.𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐬One of those goodbyes was for our almost-twenty-year-old clinic cat. He let us know he was ready, the way they do when you've been doing this long enough to understand the language. I took him outside. Let him walk around. Let the sun fall on him. Those are the passings that don't make me sad — they make me grateful. We got to celebrate a long, full life. That's a gift.Two of the goodbyes happened last night, and I am still sitting in the wreckage of them.We lost both of our admin cats.One of them had been with us for four years. He came to us from the county shelter, turned in by his owner for fecal incontinence, with a request that he be euthanized. We took him instead. He was a sanctuary cat, which means we were his family; his whole world. He spent four more years being exactly himself, loved and safe. He had been declining, but he was still happy right up until he wasn't. We gave him a peaceful passing. I will feel his absence for a long time.The other one never really caught a break. FIV positive, a difficult neuter, years of recovery from a full mouth extraction, and then what we believe was cancer slowly taking him. I moved him into admin when I could see the shift happening and he was happy there for a while. Until he wasn't. Making the call for a cat like that, a sanctuary cat who has been through so much, is one of the hardest things I do. We always try to call it before they stop being themselves. Finding that line is never easy. He had a peaceful passing too.Both of those wonderful boys deserved every bit of peace we could give them at the end. It's going to take me a while.𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝Not everything this week was heavy.Our boy in the hallway, the one with the unpredictable digestive situation, has been doing better. I've been thinking a lot about his quality of life, though. A cat living in the hallway for fecal monitoring is functional, but it's not a life. We're going to try him in a room and bring him back periodically to check output. It feels like a strange game to play with his happiness, but I want him to actually live while we manage his health.Our former property cat is settling in and has apparently made friends, which honestly surprised me. He was always a bit of a troublemaker out on the property except, I remember now, he used to play with the FeLV kids through the catio fence. Maybe he just didn't like the other property cats specifically. Cats contain multitudes.And the shed kitty. Oh, the shed kitty. The one whose capture will be talked about here for years. That cat has completely transformed. He talks. He purrs. He head butts. He follows people around. You would never know. He won't be with us long. Someone is going to fall in love and scoop him up, and that's exactly what should happen.𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈𝐭 𝐂𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬I've been getting out into the shelter more this week because I have a lot of cats I'm monitoring and I want to see their progress with my own eyes. I try to bond with all my patients. It matters to me. And honestly, I've been pleasantly surprised.But here's the thing about this work... the empathy is constant. For the cats who are struggling. For the volunteers who just found out their favorite cat went to heaven. For the owners who are surrendering because they feel like they have no other choice and are clearly heartbroken about it. It adds up. I've gotten good at compartmentalizing. Maybe too good. I can hold it together at work, put on the face that needs to be there, and then somewhere on the drive home, or in some completely random moment, it hits all at once. Tidal wave. No warning.I've noticed I've gotten a little numb, and I'm watching that. It's a coping mechanism that has its place, but I don't want to lose the thing that makes me good at this job, which is that I actually feel it.𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐈'𝐦 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞At the end of every week like this one, I come back to the same place.These cats have given me something nothing else has and that is a sense of purpose that I can feel in my bones. Twenty years in the military and I never felt it like this. I feel like I was built for this work, for this role, at this time. And I will do it for as long as my body holds out and my heart keeps showing up.That's enough reason to keep writing, too.

February 10, 2026

10 Feb 2026 19:29

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟒𝟏: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤Sunday was a day of preparation. After weeks of being consumed by procedures and intake exams, we were finally going to tackle the backlog of annual exams. More paperwork than usual, but satisfying to know we'd make real progress on something that had slipped behind.Monday arrived with its typical mixture of routine and crisis. We completed a sedated oral biopsy on one of our clinic cats, neutered a newcomer, and worked through exam after exam. But the day ended in sadness - we had to let go of a recent return whose chronic diarrhea turned out to be lymphoma. Sometimes we can manage lymphoma and keep cats comfortable for months or even years. This wasn't one of those times. We got her too late to intervene, and the kindest thing we could do was say goodbye.There was a bright spot though. Jack, our former property cat, passed his exam and was released into the shelter population. The initial transition was rough. He scaled every inch of catio fencing looking for an escape route. But once he realized there wasn't one, something shifted. This morning I found him curled up with another cat, a feral from a school who still won't let us touch him. Two souls who understand each other, finding comfort together. Jack's friend has made steady progress, and I'm hopeful both of them can build safe lives here with us. They were joined by another cat that I fostered previously who was found way out in the desert.Not everyone understands the decisions I make for these cats. I get pushback sometimes. But at the end of the day, it's not about how anybody feels about my decisions - it's about whether those decisions positively impact the cats' lives. I will do what's in their best interest 100% of the time. They're what matters.Sometimes I think people forget we have "sanctuary" attached to our name. Yes, adoptions are wonderful. But we're also a place where cats are safe to live out their entire lives if that's what they need. Who am I to tell them differently? It's hard for potential adopters when they fall in love with a long-term resident, only to learn why that cat is sanctuary-bound. Many of them are inappropriate urinators. And despite what people tell us in the moment, most aren't truly okay with that in their home.Tuesday was cleanup day after surgery - new treatments, releasing cats to start their new lives, running quality control on Monday's documentation. Then my kennel tech came back with a video of one of our FeLV kitties in respiratory distress.We've danced this dance before. I had someone grab her immediately while two others suited up for x-rays. Euthanasia drugs were pulled up, assuming the worst, and our veterinarian. was notified. When FeLV cats present like this, it usually means their chest is full of fluid and we're out of time. My medical instincts were right. We had to let go of a sweet 10-month-old FeLV girl.My new second-in-command hasn't witnessed many emergencies yet. The more she watches me run them, the better equipped she'll be to handle one if I'm not there. It's a sad but valuable education.That emergency drained whatever energy I had left. I just tried to get through the rest of the day. We have more pending angels coming up, and going to work knowing what's ahead is incredibly hard. Making these time-sensitive decisions with our veterinarian never gets easier. I wish they could all live forever, but that's not how this works.When we have time, I make sure staff and volunteers know so they can say their goodbyes. It's the final gift I can give - to both the cats and the humans who love them.My job is tough.

February 7, 2026

7 Feb 2026 20:05

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟑𝟖 - 𝐅𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟕, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟔

February 3, 2026

3 Feb 2026 19:55

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟑𝟒: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐭 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐈𝐧 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐝 (𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐨'𝐝 𝐁𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐀𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠)Before I get into today, I need to catch up on the whirlwind of the last few days. Buckle up.𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲 brought eight intakes—four seniors, one return, two strays found outside an employee's apartment, and one handsome 1.5-year-old boy. We balanced that with two adult adoptions. One was a return from last year who found a perfect new home with someone I literally watched grow up here at the shelter. Full circle moments like that remind you why you do this work. The other was Miss Pelling, who we'd been baffled hadn't been scooped up sooner. Saturday left us with our hands full.𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 meant prep for Doctor Day. Our vet was back from her honeymoon, and after two weeks without her, I had stacked the exam schedule. The day ended heavy though. We'd taken in a senior back in October already in kidney failure—numbers bad enough I thought we'd have weeks with him at most. He surprised us, greeted us every time we entered his room, gave us months we didn't expect. But Sunday, we saw he was slowing down, losing weight. Bloodwork confirmed his kidneys had finally given up. After some love and some whipped cream, we said goodbye.𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 started strong. We had a sweet boy with glaucoma who wouldn't tolerate treatment on the floor, so we took the eye. Surgery went smoothly. Spays, neuters, a mountain of exams. Then came the hard part.You may remember our bonded ginger boys. Over the last week, we'd been watching a change. The one who'd had the feeding tube was withdrawing. His brother started venturing out into Medical, spending less time with him—his way of telling us his brother was giving up. We rechecked bloodwork. Liver values shot back up. It was time. His brother walked around the table while we said goodbye, and afterward we showed him so he'd know his brother was gone.Now, about the cat under the shed.𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐱 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬, we'd had a stray cat hiding under one of the back sheds. We could hear him cry but couldn't see him. Traps went out Thursday. He was trap savvy—wouldn't take the bait. But he was talking to us nonstop, which outside cats don't normally do. A good friend brought over a drop trap—much larger surface area, string-operated kickstand, food underneath. More appealing to a smart cat.Saturday and Sunday, he kept talking from under the shed but wouldn't fully emerge. We dug out the area so he could get out easier, got eyes on him with cameras. He'd come out further to eat, but not far enough. The drop trap sat ready.𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, we tried again. And then something ridiculous happened.Jack Jack—our property cat we've seen around since 2022, the one we gave up trying to trap years ago—walked right under the drop trap. BAM. Captured. I couldn't believe it.Getting him from drop trap to transfer cage to kennel required careful choreography, but we pulled it off. He scraped some skin off his head bouncing around during capture, but he was safe inside. The mayhem of catching Jack scared our original target back under the shed. By 11 p.m., exhausted, we called it. The second I locked up and walked out, the camera dinged. He strutted out like we hadn't spent hours waiting for him. A regular trap was set. All we could do was hope.𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, I arrived to find the trap still set and empty. I was devastated. I talked to him under the shed—silence. Then I checked one more spot my friend had mentioned seeing him the night before.He answered.He was in an insulated box we'd put out for property cats. One way in. One way out. This was my chance.I grabbed my team. We grabbed the net we'd retired to storage because I hate using them. I blocked the entrance with the net, held food against it to stabilize it. My team opened the lid. He shot straight out the hole into the net. I yanked the string. We had him.I rushed him inside, got him in a kennel, then came the tedious work of untangling him from the net. Once we did, we let him decompress while we got back to morning routines.As it turns out, our new boy is really sweet. Super talkative. Ate all his food, gave us headbutts and purrs when we checked temperament. I felt more relieved than I'd felt in a long time.Now, Jack.The plan: get him out carefully, microchip him, draw blood for disease testing, hold him in a trap while we waited for results, then squeeze him to the back for vaccines and release.I always scan before placing a chip to make sure there isn't one already.My jaw hit the floor.He had a microchip.Holly joked it would be something if the chip was registered to us.It was registered to us.Detective work began. We discovered previous teams had trapped him on the property back in 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟖. That explained why he was trap savvy—last time he got in a trap, he was neutered. After three weeks inside, he was released back outside. That's no longer something we do. Previous teams didn't know how to socialize outdoor cats the way we do now.So now what?We always prefer cats stay inside. We don't adopt to people who want indoor/outdoor. How could we send him back out? After discussion, we decided to give him a chance. He's no stranger to the shelter—just a stranger to the inside of it. If he can come around, he'll join GenPop. If he absolutely can't handle it and becomes dangerous, we'll have to release him back outside. His comfort and stress levels will guide us. Please pray the outcome is inside. He deserves to have everything he needs safely indoors.This day was so full of emotion and questions. And that was just how it started. We also had a bottle baby arrive and got a long-term resident out to her new home.The last few days have been a rollercoaster of long days, long nights, and hoping we'd get some cats to safety. All of it was worth it for these outcomes. I'm exhausted. I hope I got enough wins that I can sleep well tonight.