The case for fostering animals and volunteering at shelters
I recently awoke to the sensation of a cat gently but insistently pawing my cheek. It was about 4:30 AM. I squinted at Luna in the dark stillness of my room. She chirped to confirm that I was awake and ready to tend to her needs.
Anyone who has had a cat has probably experienced some version of this sunrise ritual. It is only a minor annoyance. One endures it because the benefits of cat-ownership outweigh it. Although one may lose some sleep, one gains a soft, warm, comforting presence in one’s home. I was just pet-sitting Luna, but I agreed to do so for the same reason.
I do not have any pets of my own. In that way, my Toronto life is very different from the one I knew growing up: my parents have four dogs, a cat, and two birds. Packs of stampeding dogs will always be too chaotic for me, but, someday, I would like to adopt cats—two, so that they could amuse each other when I am away.
I have not yet followed that path because it does not suit my current lifestyle—a lifestyle that, as law students, many readers will share. Nevertheless, many people in my ambit have begun bringing animals into their lives. This causes me concern, because I am not certain that these people realize the size of the responsibility they are taking on.
For one thing, animals are expensive. It is not unusual to spend $3,000 or $4,000 per year in care for a cat or dog. For another thing, my life is still in flux. I have another semester in my current apartment, but who knows what my living situation will be after that? I do know that I plan to do a little bit of travelling while I still have that freedom. I would not want to impose the necessarily incidental stress on whatever companion animals would otherwise be depending on me.
Having said all of the above, I want to clarify that I understand intimately the desire to have an animal. I understand this desire at its most superficial: I am as susceptible to the cuteness of soft and fluffy animals as anyone. I also understand the desire at its most profound. It often feels as though our companion animals complete us. As cultural critic John Berger so eloquently put it in his essay, “Why Look at Animals”, a pet “offers its owner a mirror to a part that is never otherwise reflected.”
I would like to suggest that there are alternative solutions to one’s need to be needed. Specifically, becoming a foster parent and volunteering at one’s local shelter are both excellent ways to channel one’s good instinct to care into an essential public service. Both options offer nearly all of the best aspects of pet ownership. Yet neither entails the long-term responsibilities and commitment that ownership demands.
Fostering is a wonderful option for people who believe that they would like to have an animal’s presence in their home but who, for various reasons, cannot responsibly commit to ownership. Perhaps one enjoys travelling. Perhaps one simply suspects that one’s living situation is going to be volatile in the next decade or so (remember, animals live a long time!) As students and young professionals, most of us are going to be changing apartments, cities, and relationships. Navigating those upheavals while also having to accommodate an animal can greatly complicate things. I pause, here, to emphasize that, if you are a pet owner, you owe a moral duty to your pet to accommodate its needs; your pet cannot adapt the way you can.
Fosters tend to be relatively short-term, making them ideal for people who cannot guarantee their availability as caregiver will extend indefinitely. The animal lives with a foster for a few weeks or months, until it finds its forever home. During that time, one gets the benefit of good company and the animal gets the benefit of a calmer environment than the shelter, in which it can build its confidence and develop its social skills.
Some people have told me that they shy away from fostering because they would struggle to let the animal go. I understand the feeling. Before moving to Toronto, my family and I fostered many animals—mostly cats and dogs. It was hard to let those new friends go to another family! That is why my parents ended up with so many animals—they ended up adopting them. In the rescue business, we call those (somewhat coldly) “failed fosters”. They are failures because they reduce the foster family’s availability in what is a limited network of volunteers. And that is really the point I want to underscore: there is so much need. Don’t withhold your love for fear that your heart might break. It will, but it will also heal. And you will have helped an animal get the chance to be loved for the rest of its life.
Volunteering at one’s local shelter is another excellent way to satisfy one’s cravings for cuteness while performing a valuable service. Before coming to law school, I worked at the Montreal SPCA’s Annexe, a shelter for cats with special needs. Like most shelters, it was run on a shoestring budget. Yet, there was an unending parade of cats through its doors. We depended heavily on the generosity of a team of regular volunteers. They performed the essential task of socializing the cats, shepherding them towards adoption. The volunteers also helped us with the less glamorous, but no less essential, tasks of cleaning the cats’ beds, changing their litters, and washing their dishes.
In other words, the volunteers undertook the responsibilities that one has as an owner. I believe that anyone who intends to become a pet owner should first volunteer to gain perspective. If one finds oneself dreading having to go into the shelter again, when one has other things one would prefer doing than playing with the cats or walking the dogs for an hour or two, then that should give one pause. As a pet owner, one does not have the option to shirk one’s responsibility. Pets are completely dependent on their owners for all of their needs, including stimulation.
Volunteering, like fostering, is a great way to get some much-needed contact with furry friends without needing to commit to years of care. When I worked at the Annexe, many of our volunteers were students and people on temporary work visas. Other volunteers included people who loved cats but whose partners were too allergic to live with one; those volunteers would just change their clothes when they returned home.
Volunteering is also particularly good for people with demanding work schedules, like lawyers. This summer, I was usually out of the house between 7:30 and 22:00. One cannot leave an animal alone for hours on end: it will get bored, lonely, and sad. Not to mention hungry! This is especially true of highly intelligent animals like parrots which, really, should not be pets at all. But I assure you that any pet will become depressed and unhealthy if it only gets, at best, half an hour of attention per day. And your pet certainly will not respect you or listen to your commands if you spend no time building a rapport. Volunteering situates one as a member of a team—sort of an “it takes a village to raise a child” theory, except the child is an animal. Together, you all pitch in until a forever home presents itself.
Volunteering also offers an uncompromising perspective on the level of need that there is for loving homes. There are more animals for adoption than there are homes to take them. One of the reasons is that some people think it is acceptable to abandon their pets when caring for them becomes inconvenient. In those unfortunate situations, shelters serve as a safety net. Another reason is that some people think it is acceptable to buy animals from breeders. I believe that should be illegal. For one thing, there are already too many domestic animals. For another, there is no such thing as an “ethical” breeder. All breeding for commercial purposes leads to needless and horrific suffering. I have seen it first-hand on many occasions. Adopt, don’t shop.
To conclude, I want to bring you back to the story I told at the beginning of this article—the one about Luna rousing me at 4:30 AM. It may sound cute—and it is—but Luna is one of the gentler culprits I have known. My late cat, Roly Poly, used to lumber up onto my bed around 2:30 AM every morning, place one hefty paw on my throat, and curl his claws into my jugular vein until he had my full attention. He would then blink slowly and begin purring, satisfied that he had impressed upon me the urgency of his need to play with his Habs-themed, catnip-filled mouse. And I had to comply. That was his play time. It was an integral part of his mental health.
Pet ownership is like that. You are essentially expected to be a parent to a pre-verbal toddler. There is not a lot of room for compromise and you know that you have to be the bigger person, so to speak. I suspect that that is precisely why the idea of pet ownership is suddenly so appealing to my cohort. Many of us are tired of being students, but we are not ready to have children. So, we think, we will just get a pet to look after. I want to urge you to reconsider that impulse. Being a good pet owner means being a good parent. Fostering and volunteering are more like opportunities to play the fun aunt or uncle. You love your cuddly companion, while you can, but you don’t lose your freedom completely. Most importantly, you give back. You help animals in need.
