Fatigue

Yesterday I went to a colony where we have fixed well over 20 cats. An impossible-to-trap female cat had just given birth, and I wanted to put eyes on her kittens. I didn’t spot her kittens, but across the street I saw a previously unknown kitten peek its head out from the industrial building it will spend its short life living in. I reflexively sunk into a squat in the middle of the street and put my face in my hands. Two mother cats, two litters. It is a never-ending cycle of suffering, and no matter how hard we try, it often feels like we aren’t making progress. There are obstacles at every turn: poor trapping conditions, well-meaning but unhelpful colony feeders, antagonistic neighbors. The list goes on. I often feel like giving up. My time, my energy, and my compassion is spread thin. I have a growing family. I have a full-time job. I try to exercise. How can I squeeze more time out of the day to continue helping animals? I feel guilty and stupid for even asking the question. There are people who do more. Nobody is forcing me to do this. It’s my choice, but sometimes it doesn’t feel like much of a choice at all. How could I just shut it off? I could walk away, and I’d probably be better off for it, but the cats wouldn't. They’d continue breeding, fighting, starving, and suffering miserable, quiet deaths on the streets of a city that often seems hostile to life (both human and animal). There are a hundred other organizations in Houston who have the same goal as us: reduce the number of stray cats on the streets, and improve the lives of the ones that are already there. What would the stray animal crisis look like if the people behind these organizations simply stopped? I’m inclined to say it would get worse, but how could it get worse? I yearn for a time in my life when I wasn’t obsessed with and wholly dedicated to this cause. I’m not looking for sympathy. I don’t know what I’m looking for. I’m just fatigued.