Allow me to introduce myself.

I am one of those people who has fostered over 100 kittens at this point in my life. I have received phone calls from friends late at night because there is a question about an animal and apparently I am the one that has the answers. I am one of those people who has managed to make a living saving animals.

I have worked in the animal welfare field for close to 15 years now and my stories and my stress levels are plentiful. My general dislike of humans has grown exponentially over the years, and it may be the reason I walk away one day. But that feeling of knowing I have been the change in the life of an animal, who existed at this very moment in this exact place and needed me, is indescribable.

Many people love animals, few are able to make a living immersed in that world.

I count myself as one of the lucky humans who is able to directly impact the life of an animal in my community and make a career out of it. This life however does not come without consequence. It has left my heart calloused and has me questioning my morals at times. I often wonder if I am good enough to be allowed into that beautiful forever after in the sky after having done the things I’ve done and seen the things I’ve seen.

But I guess I should start from the beginning, so you understand how this callous hearted kitten foster came to be.

My story begins in a dry and dusty place called Namibia. For those not familiar with the African continent, it is a country situated far south and boasts desolate Atlantic coast line, the oldest desert in the world and the most breathtaking bush landscapes imaginable. It is a country I called home until the age of 13. My siblings and I were born there to our German parents and by the time I moved to the states I had only just begun to learn the English language.

Although my mother had chosen a career path involving humans, she has always been a huge animal lover and never shied away from outlandish requests to rehabilitate an orphaned bat eared fox, or crippled ostrich chicks, or the latest injured owl. We grew up with a menagerie of pets including dogs, cats, rabbits, chickens, parrots and plenty of tortoises running around and learned from an early age how to care for each. We had plenty of friends who lived on farms and they would have the occasional cheetah or zebra or warthog that landed on their doorstep injured or orphaned, and it allowed us the opportunity to know these animals up close.

I would be remiss if I did not point out that living in a third world country before moving to the States allows me a different perspective at times. The way animals are often treated in a third world country is in stark contrast to how people in a first world country, like the United States, believe they should be treated. And while there are many examples of despicable animal cruelty in these third world countries, the expectations for the treatment of animals in this country can be completely unrealistic and unreasonable bordering on unhealthy. There have been some amazing animal rescue organizations taking hold in Namibia and I will be sure to highlight their success as they fight for a better future for animals there.

I spent my college years working at a veterinary clinic and spent the next 14.5 years working at an animal shelter. Half my life I have dedicated to the wellbeing of animals in my community. Now at the age of 40 I have amassed so many stories and experiences but can’t help but wonder if it is enough. If what I did will ever be enough.

This blog is intended to be a journal of sorts. It allows the audience a glimpse into the world of animal rescue, something not well known or understood, while allowing me to purge my thoughts and declutter my mind.