It’s no secret that Winter loves cats. I have no doubt that she’ll grow up to be a crazy cat lady who speaks only in meows and hisses. I had approached the Animal Refuge League, where we “rescued” our 30 lb cat (no exaggeration), about having Winter volunteer, but she has to be at least 13 years old. The only place I found that would allow Winter to volunteer is HART (Homeless Animal Rescue Team) in Cumberland, a no-kill kitty shelter.
Sunday morning we headed over to HART for our 10 am appointment. Because Winter is under 16, I needed to be present during her volunteering. I figured I could read a book or make a few phone calls while she groomed and loved on these kitties like the little cat whisperer she is. Not quite.
The shelter has several rooms for cats, one for the new arrivals, one for the feral cats, one for the cats with AIDs and a couple for the other kitties. Volunteers are assigned a room where they change the litter, feed the cats, clean up puke, sweep and mop the floors and a few other undesirable tasks.
Because we needed a little training, we joined the woman who was cleaning the AIDs room. She assured us that humans cannot contract AIDs from cats and showed us the ropes. There would be no reading and relaxing while Winter volunteered — I needed to stay in the room with her the entire time. Of course, I’m not going to stand there and watch two people work. I needed to lend a hand.
This was a bit of a problem. I have severe cat allergies. When I say severe, I mean I have to take three different medications everyday just to live with one (huge) cat. Hanging out in a 14-foot x 25-foot enclosed room with 15 cats resulted in a three-day stint of sneezing, coughing and wheezing.
But that’s not the point here. The truly altruistic would suffer the sickness for the sake of the kitties and the people who run the shelter. Winter, also allergic to cats but not so much so, was having a blast and would have spent the entire day there if they let her. She snatched the mop out of my hands like it was free candy and mopped the floor like she was getting paid a six-figure salary to do it.
She totally understood what was needed of her and happily volunteered. This was exactly what I wanted her to learn, and I was shocked she got it so quickly. She chatted on all day about returning and hasn’t let up with the “when are we going back to the kitty shelter again?” inquisition.
My attempt to teach Winter altruism has bit me in the badonkadonk. I have no desire to return to allergy hell, but she is begging to volunteer. Apparently the lesson here is my need to learn the true meaning of altruism: “the selfless concern for the welfare of others,” otherwise known as “dealing with your gruesome allergies so your daughter can volunteer for HART, an organization that desperately relies on the goodness of people to operate.”
God, I feel like a jerk.