If you've been reading my blog over the years, you'll know that this kind of urgency usually puts me in high gear. My adrenalin gets pumping, and I start posting sad pictures of cats that need help. My rescue's foster space was full, but I could squeeze in a little brown tabby kitten at my house if he was in danger of being euthanized the next day. I don't know why I even said "Brown tabby"....I don't really care about colour. But I truly felt frozen and unable to react.
Is it possible that I'm just burned out with this bullshit? I'm tired of rewarding this city's lack of care and compassion for the animals with our rescue's hard earned money and donations. I watched the Facebook page spring into action with other rescue's coming forward to help cats that they didn't have room for or money to take - but they did it anyway.
So where was I? Why did I feel so immobile? I have no idea. I thought about it all weekend, and I still have no idea why I didn't do anything. I just felt pissed. Hurt. Yes...very, very, hurt.
The rescue's phone line was ringing off the hook for people who had found cats...kittens...feral trapping help....injured cats. We had a big weekend adoption event last weekend that I was preparing for and couldn't risk taking in sick cats that would possibly prohibit the healthy ones from attending the event.
Or is that just an excuse?
Whatever the reason, innocent cats and kittens died on Friday at that shelter because there weren't enough homes. Or compassion. Or Love. Or space in Foster Care. And this City keeps saying, "Nah, we're not going to let cats or dogs get adopted...either they're claimed by their owner, rescued or they die."
Those of you who read this blog know this isn't my first, second, third or fourth rant about what happens to these innocent beings at this shelter. But this IS the first time I wasn't able to rally to even take one when they needed me. Maybe it's because I'm still paying the vet bill on the poor "tortie' Mom cat that this shelter "sent out" to our local vet to die - along with her FOUR healthy kittens - with an enormous, infected wound in her belly....
This blog post has more profanity than I usually like, but this kind of crap brings out the worst in me. I'd better get my shit together. Kitten Season isn't over yet.