Loving And Letting Go

reflections on becoming attached to cats and kittens at Almost Home

That’s one of the many pictures I took several weeks ago during an Open House volunteer shift at Almost Home Cat Rescue. The cat in the photo is Gravy, a 2-year old grey cat who came to our shelter as part of a bonded pair with 6-year old Biscuit. They are both quite social, and Gravy particularly liked to welcome visitors as soon as they came into the community room, where the cats roam, live, eat, and sleep until they move on to foster or adoptive homes.

Gravy became particularly attached to me during my visits and shifts. If I sat on the floor or on a chair, he would crawl into my lap or even up on my chest, ask for pets, and cuddle up with me. He let me know when he wanted to be picked up, and either put his head and front paws over my shoulder or even got up on top of my shoulders. Sometimes, he just wanted to lounge next to me. In this picture, he had fallen asleep on me, tucked his paws under my arm, and curled his tail over my forearm.

Since he and Biscuit have to be adopted or fostered together as an adult bonded pair, they were around in the shelter for several weeks, and since I was at Almost Home once or twice a week those days, I got to spend a good bit of time with both of them. And don’t get me wrong, I also like Biscuit and play with, pet, cuddle, and take care of her as well (as I do with all of the cats and kittens in the shelter). But Gravy is one of those cats with whom I developed a deeper connection. But though he’ll remain in my heart and in my camera role, not a truly lasting connection. Biscuit and Gravy were adopted several weeks ago, and I’m sure they have adjusted to a new home, new people, and a new life together.

It’s entirely unpredictable which cats and kittens one might bond with more closely by comparison to the others. Getting to spend time at a shelter like Almost Home, where cats free range in rooms with other cats, with lots of stimulation, excellent medical care, and attention and affection from volunteers there multiple times a day, often allows shy, scared, or “spicy” cats to relax, trust people, and give and receive affection over time. Their personalities have space to express and unfold themselves, you might say.

While there certainly are some exceptions, most of the cats and kittens fairly quickly come to like, trust, and seek attention from me. Some of the other volunteers have taken to calling me (possibly a bit facetiously) a “cat whisperer” (and my wife calls my the “cat daddy”). One of my roles is to help socialize and coax out the ones who hide, who hiss, who distrust people, helping them to realize that they can enjoy and feel safe with human beings. I will note as well that the other volunteers help with this, as do the other more initially trusting and friendly cats and kittens (they learn from each other through observation and imitation).

Over time, with certain of them, a bond develops. We get attached to each other. Feelings develop. Certain of them, particularly when I’m doing a cleaning and feeding shift, entirely on my own at the shelter with nobody else where, show signs that they want me not to leave when it is time, crying out, jumping on me, pawing at the windows, or even grabbing at my pants leg. I get attached to them as well. with some of them I’ll find myself thinking of them while I’m away from the shelter, remembering the time we spent together, and looking forward to seeing them again.

That’s where the tough part of volunteering at a shelter like Almost Home comes in, and not just for me but for quite a few other volunteers. It’s a topic we’ve talked about together from time to time, and it causes genuine difficulties for some. Cats and kittens arrive at the shelter. We take care of them, get to know them, spend time with them, play with, feed and water, clean up after, pet and cuddle them. And in the process, we get attached to them.

The entire point of Almost Home, however, is to be precisely what that name denotes. The shelter (and the volunteer staff) are not intended to be the final destination for any of our residents. Ideally all of them get adopted and live out the rest of their lives in loving homes with the people who came to the shelter, selected them, and went through the process of adopting them (which has quite a few steps, since we want to be sure the cats will be well taken care of). However long a cat remains at Almost Home (and occasionally, they might be there for months, like two sweet guys, Domino and Glover did), their stay is intended to be a temporary and transitory one.

If you’re doing your job well at a place like Almost Home, and if you don’t close off your heart out of fear of sooner or late saying goodbye for good, you’re inevitably going to get attached, and then miss at least some cats or kittens when they leave for their permanent homes. I’m happy for, but I also also miss Gravy since he and Biscuit got adopted. I may miss him for a long time, since in the relatively short time we had together, we became close. I can name a number of cats and kittens who still occupy space in that way within my heart.

Little kitten Sprinkle who was recently adopted at the end of the summer is one of them (and not just for me but many other volunteers, which we can also say about an earlier tiny boy Pete). Little Ernest, the playful little guy who was the first cat I met at Almost Home nearly two years ago, is another. Built like a tank, aggressive (with other cats), but loving (with people) Rosie is another I will probably remember the rest of my life. I could go on naming cats and kittens but really I should move on to the main point.

There is a genuine challenge or difficulty involved in doing this sort of shelter work, one that people ask me about from time to time. If not adequately understood and addressed, it could lead to ceasing to do that sort of work, or at least doing it in a less committed manner. Its structure is the same for each cat or kitten you encounter. You aren’t just there to make sure they have food and water, a clean place, and some stimulation or engagement. You’re there as well to help them form connections with human beings. You’re there to give them attention, affection, and love that is displayed through action.

Certain of those cats or kittens will get attached to you. For the time they are in the shelter, you might become their person (perhaps one of several). They will deliberately seek you out when you come in, perking up when they smell or hear you usually before they actually see you. They want to be close to you, to display their own affection for you in a variety of ways. And you inevitably get attached to them as well.

It’s an asymmetrical relationship of course, and not just because they’re a cat and you’re a human. You are there to care for them, to provide them with what they need, to keep them safe, comfortable, and enriched. And you know what lies ahead for them in a way that they do not, aware that however much time you have together in the present and immediate future, their long-term future is a hopefully happy home with someone else.

Other volunteers occasionally, and other people more often will ask me if it doesn’t make me sad to form a connection, give and receive affection, develop an attachment to and appreciation of a cat or kitten, only to then have someone else adopt them and become their person. Does it perhaps render me a bit jealous or resentful of the adopters who come in, meet with, select, and then whisk away a little friend who I spent time caring for, helping to be more trusting, confident, and affectionate with humans? Do I miss, feel a sense of loss or longing for, the ones who I got to know over weeks and sometimes even months?

I will say that those sorts of emotions in these circumstances would be quite natural to feel, but that doesn’t mean that one has to feel them, or that they are going to be particularly helpful for anyone involved. It certainly doesn’t hurt to deliberately impose a sense of perspective upon oneself, realizing that if these matters can understandably pose challenges for volunteers who work at the shelter, that goes even more so for the volunteers who foster cats and kittens in their own homes. And despite the fact that some do “foster fail”, most of the fosterers are indeed able to love and then let go.

For the moment, I’m going to close off these reflections and admissions at this point. I’ll say that I’ve found a way for myself to come in to the shelter consistently, give love, care, and affection to the cats and kittens unstintingly, and be emotionally all right when they do move out to their new adoptive homes. One aspect of that is feeling a different set of emotions than the ones that one might fear, for example joy and hope, and that requires (at least for me) a sort of cognitive and volitional practice. I’ll write about this more fully, in a way that might potentially be of use to others in similar situations, in a followup post, hopefully sometime next week.