My name is Bruce, and I am a cat. While my fellow felines spend their days lazing around and looking cute, I am doing lifesaving work. In fact, I’m in the process of saving one life in particular: my mom’s.
I never thought there could be anything sweet about lying in a dark room disabled by the symptoms of my chronic illness, but then we adopted Ogden.
The day my husband and I brought Ogden home, he was a shy and skittish cat who hid under a desk and hissed at us whenever we came too close. He’d been found on the street by a Trap-Neuter-Return program for feral cats, so he was used to surviving on his own. We were going to have to earn his trust.
When our beloved kitty passed away last year at 14, we were heartbroken and our home felt empty. We'd already had the best cat companion ever, and could never replace her. But when we heard about a local rescue group needing foster homes, we felt that fostering wouldn’t betray her memory.
Cat Town’s Foster Coordinator told us about a cat at the shelter who was really struggling. “What's his name?” we asked. "Well, the volunteers call him 'sad tabby''. That was all we needed to hear. We nervously agreed to foster and along came sad tabby, now known as Briggs, straight from the shelter. We had no idea what we were getting ourselves into.
Six months ago, Cat Town completely changed two lives: mine, and my best friend Louie’s.
At the time, Louie was a charming little gray cat living — terrified and shy — at the Oakland shelter. I was a woman with autism living — lonely and disconnected — in a little apartment. Because he was too shy to be adopted, Cat Town placed little Lou in my home as a foster. I couldn’t resist adopting him.