Here Kitty, Kitty

So, I woke up the other day and decided I had too much free time on my hands, and got a second job.

Right.

No, really.

Last night was my first day, helping out with adoptions at the Waterfront PetCo through the Animal Rescue League, which I've been volunteering at. It's fairly simple, a few hours a few times a week; take the guys out, play a bit, clean their cages, try to whore them out to shoppers. Like 'em young? Old? Long-haired? Short-haired? Chubby? Skinny? Declawed? I'm a kitty pimp, really.

Actually, there is a whole list of reasons we can deny an adoption if we think someone is shady or the cat won't be in a good home. There is certainly an optimum environment that we would like to see the cats go to, and I've heard stories of adoption counselors who are supremely picky about approving adoptions. But here's the deal: Right now, THEY ARE LIVING IN A CAGE. They're not happy there. They don't get the attention or exercise they need. Even the sweetest cats get cranky being stuck in a small metal box, with strange people and animals passing by all day long.

So, it's really a big judgment call. Does everyone care for their pets the way I would? No. But also, do I care for my pets the same way others do? No. I have declawed cats. Growing up, we let our cats outside. One of my cats doesn't have a chip implant. When I was little, I distinctly remember constantly harassing the cat and dog we had; it was endless fun. I've worked on farms with tons of cats living outside fending for themselves, and I've known lots of dogs who were poorly trained, ate everything in sight, or rarely came in the house.

These situations are far from optimal when you think of a house pet. But do I think any one of these animals would have been better off in a cage? No. Not to say that I'll be there giving out cats to any slack-jawed or adopting-on-a-whim twit that crosses my path, but it's a huge judgment call, and...ah, I'm a bit nervous about making it!