In my family animal rescue is as respected as helping people in need -- one of the most honorable and beautiful uses to which one can put one's life. I believe that in some ways having a pet is like having a child -- especially in terms of responsibility. And I believed in adopting from shelters too, until recently.

Our elderly cat died after a lengthy battle with CRF. About a month later, my partner and I agreed that we should begin looking for another cat. The adoption procedures at Petsmart seemed too rigorous, so we tried a county shelter. The previous cat had been a shelter kitten. We both forgot that that had been almost twenty years ago.

The experience was not as extreme as what Heather or Ellen describe, but it was bad enough. It seems that some county shelters are taking on some of the aspects and practices of the more activist rescue places -- even to the point of trying to offer you (repeatedly) a particular animal, and in this case without disclosing if it had any health problems.

One attendant in particular had a look that I recognized -- flat, unblinking, watchful. My own mother had such a look when she suspected someone not necessarily of cruelty or neglect, but simply of not caring seriously enough, of wanting to acquire a pet as if it were another accessory like a purse, or an iPhone. I had always seen Mother's animal rights activity (outspoken but never extreme) as heroic and protective. I never expected to have that look turned on me.

Not having been informed that most of the cats in the shelter -- not just those in the designated area for sick cats -- had contagious diseases, I was told, pleasantly enough, not to pet them through the bars without using (provided) hand sanitizer after each contact. This is completely understandable, although they should have signs up explaining this. And she was not nasty at all. But I saw her eyes.

The worst moment was when I shed a few tears talking about the death of our previous cat. I was not sobbing or weeping copiously. Our love and loss were respected, but we were (again politely and somewhat clinically) told that we weren't ready to adopt another cat and that we would be welcome to return in a few months. We didn't protest, didn't say that we weren't planning to try to adopt any that day or even that month, that we were only looking. We simply left.

I thought it was something about me, or about us. Perhaps it was in part. We weren't dressed as if for church, after all, and we are a gay couple with mild developmental disabilities; considering the previous letter from the lady with the learning-disabled daughter, we may have been stamped 'unfit' the minute we came in. Thank you to Heather and to Ellen for revealing these things. I still believe that animal rescuers do admirable and beneficial work, but our next cat is coming from the pound.