January 6, 2026

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟔: 𝐓𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬

Tuesdays at Hermitage are reset days. We reconcile doctor sheets from Monday's appointments, carry out prescribed treatments, and move cats cleared from medical out to the adoption floor. It's also the first day of the week for the shelter—and the first day back after the weekend is always one of our busiest days for visitors.

Today threw us a curveball.

Our partner cat cafe notified us they're switching to a multi-rescue model, combining cats from different organizations in their space. With different medical protocols between rescues, we couldn't risk it. We made an unplanned trip and brought back 11 of our 12 adults on-site. One remains for now; we'll retrieve her soon. Saturday we'll return for any remaining kittens.

It was bittersweet seeing cats we'd sent over months ago—some we absorbed when we took over the partnership. I'm looking forward to getting to know them again. Several are going to need significant socialization work, but they're back where we can give them what they need.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐬

Five adoptions today! Cosmic Coconut found her home, along with four kittens. Watching them leave to start their new lives never gets old.

But the moment that made my heart soar? One of our boomerang cats—a boy who came to us with a massive facial wound from neglect. Two surgeries to repair it. Finally made it to adoptions, bonded with someone, but came back when his adopter's stress made the home incompatible with what this particular cat needed.

Today, while the shelter was open and bustling, I watched him climb into a volunteer's lap.

I had to pick my jaw up off the floor. That kind of trust, that kind of progress—it's why we do this.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞

Two bonded adult boys came to us in November through our Continuing Cat Care program—where people can ensure their cats have a home if something happens to them. These two are the epitome of bonded. Watching them together makes me smile.

Their transition has been brutal. They're still not adjusted to shelter life. One had to have a feeding tube placed so we could get food and medications into him to keep him alive. As a collective unit, they're still struggling—but their personalities are finally starting to emerge, and it's beautiful to watch.

I don't have the same fears I had about them even two weeks ago. I think they want to continue. They just need more time together, back with us, receiving one-on-one attention.

I find myself going straight to them every morning when I arrive, just to see their adorable faces and reassure them they're going to be okay.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

The classic "I need to get rid of my cat" doorbell rang today. They always look shocked when we mention our two-year waiting list. We sent them off with resources for other shelters.

We have a strong reputation in Tucson. People think of us first when they need to surrender. But we have occupancy limits for good reason—we can't take everything that comes to our door. Sometimes turning people away is heartbreaking. The stories people arrive with are enough to bring any animal lover to their knees.

But the ones who say they need to "get rid of" their cat? Those are easier to turn away. Though every time I hear that phrase, it still takes a piece of my heart. Cats are not expendable.

𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

Our first kittens of 2026 went to foster tonight. Four weeks old—an impossibly cute age. First vaccines, dewormer, negative fecal. Off they went to grow and thrive with a foster who will give them everything they need.

Managing 400 cats means constant transition. Cats leaving, cats arriving, cats healing, cats regressing, cats surprising us. Tuesday reminded me that even unplanned changes can lead us exactly where we need to be.