Happy Thursday, Positive Animal Caregivers! ♡🐾
It only took me two weeks in Bali before I experienced my first rescue.
We were driving along a busy road when Janice suddenly shouted, "Stop!" A puppy sat by a roadside food stall, his hind legs twisted awkwardly beneath him. When we crouched down with rice and egg, he dragged himself forward on his front legs alone.
His family — a mother, her daughters, and a young boy — stood watching us in confusion.
"We'll take him to the vet," Janice explained. "If he can recover, we'll help him. But if his spine is too badly damaged, we may have to end his suffering."
The conversation lasted forty minutes.
The family knew they could not afford the treatment Riki needed. Yet they had never imagined giving him away, least of all to strangers who had appeared from nowhere. They argued quietly among themselves. They cried. Eventually they nodded, stepped back, and waved goodbye as we lifted Riki into the car.
On the drive back, Janice held him close. The lice on Riki — and the burden — crawled onto her.
For a long time, I thought rescue was about taking responsibility. The longer I work in animal welfare, the more I think it is about inheriting it.
Responsibility is always moving.
A family places their hopes in a shelter because they can no longer provide. The shelter places those same hopes in an adopter. A founder eventually entrusts an organization to someone else. Even colleagues pass unfinished work into each other's hands.
No one holds the burden forever.
Perhaps that is why this profession feels so heavy. We spend our days trying to improve lives, yet so much of our work ends by handing those lives back to uncertainty. The adoption closes. The kennel empties. The patient is discharged. The retirement speech is given. The rescue ends, and someone else begins carrying the story.
When I left Toronto for Bali, I thought I was leaving projects behind. Only later did I realize I was doing exactly what Riki's family had done. I was placing something I cared deeply about into someone else's hands, hoping they would carry it further than I could.
It was an uncomfortable realization.
We like to think that our role is to change endings. But perhaps our real role is smaller, and humbler, than that. Perhaps we are only temporary custodians, borrowing influence over a life or a mission for a little while before passing it on.
Riki's story is still unfolding.
The veterinarian believes physiotherapy may help him walk again. An acupuncturist has offered treatments that his family could never have afforded. His future looks brighter than it did on the roadside that afternoon.
Which means another decision may be waiting for us.
If Riki recovers, should he return to the family that loved him but could not give him everything? Or should we keep him, believing that a better life exists elsewhere?
I don't know the answer.
I only know that the family entrusted strangers with the dog they loved because they believed his life might become a little better.
Perhaps the hardest lesson in animal welfare is not learning how to rescue. It is learning that we never own the stories we enter. We hold them for a while, do what good we can, and then place them carefully into someone else's hands, trusting that the burden — and the hope — will continue forward without us.
Here is my question to you: When was the last time you had to trust someone else with something you cared deeply about?
If you feel comfortable sharing, reply and let me know.
RECOGNITIONS
Small acts of care often look ordinary until someone pauses long enough to notice them. This week, a few things worth noticing:
In the United Kingdom, Barbara Scrimshaw was awarded the British Empire Medal in recognition of 45 years of volunteering with the PDSA (People's Dispensary for Sick Animals), including raising more than £100,000 to help pets and the people who love them. Forty-five years is a lifetime of choosing to show up.
In Singapore, 73-year-old Uncle Ong continues to feed more than 30 community cats every day, a routine he has kept since 2007. Despite wearing a neck brace and living with chronic pain, he still spends more than S$1,000 of his monthly income on cat food. When his health began to limit what he could do, the community quietly stepped in to help him continue caring for the animals he refuses to abandon.
And in Canada, the team of more than 400 volunteers at Etobicoke Humane Society (where I volunteer) recently completed a successful fundraising campaign, raising almost C$40,000 to support the cats, dogs, and families who rely on the organization. It is another reminder that extraordinary impact is often built from hundreds of ordinary people.
The headlines of animal welfare often belong to dramatic rescues. But the movement itself is sustained by quieter acts of persistence — the people who simply keep showing up. If you have a win worth sharing — your own or someone else’s — reply to this email. I’d love to hear about it.
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HAPPENINGS
Mark your calendars for these upcoming opportunities to connect with others:
Jun 23 - Stress Management in Cats
Jun 25 - Behavior Assessments in Shelters
BEFORE YOU GO
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Thanks for spending part of your day with me and the rest of the Positive Animal Caregivers Club. Take care of yourself this week. Remember - even superheroes need naps.
– Philip