Back when my lovely wife and I were first married, our apartment had a no-pets policy -- and a doorman, so we couldn't even sneak one in. We desperately wanted a pet, but there was no way to bring one in past the watcher at the front gate.
However, on the same block (didn't even have to cross a street!) there was an animal shelter -- a no-kill shelter, where they took in strays, abandoned pets, and more, guaranteed to keep them for life. And they were DESPERATE for volunteers to work with the animals.
So every Saturday, we'd go in to the shelter and spend an hour or two visiting with the animals -- taking out the cats, giving them some attention, letting them out of their cages and just in general giving them a few minutes of "normal life" every week.
It was simultaneously one of the most rewarding and most heartbreaking things we've ever done. Rewarding because, well, if you think your life isn't worth much and nobody cares if you live or die, spend two or three weekends vising shut-in abandoned cats. These cats -- legendary as aloof, unemotional, standoffish creatures -- would begin calling to us the instant we walked into their room, meowing and rubbing on the cages to get our attention. We had the full and undivided attention of up to 30 or 40 cats, all vying for our instant affection. We'd get to them all, and sit crosslegged on the floor with five or six of these creatures draped over us, purring and wearing faces of abject and utter happiness. Need to feel as though your life matters? Go work with a bunch of homeless cats.
And it was heartbreaking... for the same reason. Because we were almost literally the only bright spot in these poor cats' lives -- for an hour a week, we'd visit with them, scratch them under the chins, stroke their faces, let them play and run around, and otherwise visit with people who loved them. And for the other 167 hours that week, they'd sit in their steel cages, alone, and waiting for us to come and bring a little warmth, affection, and attention into their lives.
The worst of these were two adorable long-haired cats, one black and white and one orange and white, whose longtime owner had died and left the cats (plus a small emolument) to the shelter. They were glad to see us, but they always had a lost, empty look in their eyes -- as if they really couldn't understand where the kindly old woman who used to love them had gone, and why she hadn't been back in so long, and what they could have done to make her stay away so long. It was... well, it's STILL heartbreaking now, 28 years later.
And it's why two of our five cats are adult rescue cats, and two of the others were young rescue cats. (The cat whose picture is in the Sources field is one of our shelter cats... and a friendlier, more loving and generous cat I have never known.)
So find your local shelter and VOLUNTEER. Make it a New Year's Resolution if you need to -- spend an hour a month, an hour a week, whatever you can. If you're like us, it's GREAT to get to spend time with the animals making their lives better, but volunteer in any way you can: do clerical work for the shelter, take pictures to post on the Web site, make calls to sponsors and potential adoptive parents, whatever they need. You don't have to spend money -- every non-profit I've ever volunteered for was more than happy to find a task for willing hands and an open heart.
...And: I know I've talked about cats, because I'm a sucker for cats. But my wife loves dogs, and she'd go in and visit with the dogs, take some out for walks, and give them the same kind of attention and love that I'd give my 30 or 40 best friends in the cat room.
Excuse me, but I've got to go hug my big red "girlfriend" now...