Fridays

Every Friday for the past several weeks, I've been volunteering at the cat sanctuaryoperated by the Richmond Animal Protection Society (www.rapsociety.com). I knew about the cat sanctuary for several years before actually visiting it about three years ago. I was reluctant to go because I was afraid it would be a sad place of cages containing desperate cats but it's nothing like tha at all. In fact, it's nothing short of a cat paradise, with a huge outdoor compound, paved courtyard, gardens and little cat cabins containing bunk beds. There are over 900 cats living there and what's even more remarkable than that is that the place is operated by volunteers and donations. Most of the volunteers spend their volunteer time doing practical work like cleaning, feeding, scooping litter and medicating those who need it. As my physical abilities don't stretch to practical work, my job is to provide the attention and affection the other volunteers usually don't have time for while providing the practical care. I have the best job of all as I just get to sit and wait for the cats to come to me for a wee cuddle and chin scratch. And come to me they do! There are usually two cats on my lap and several more at my feet waiting for a vacancy.

Last week, I was in one of the buildings housing cats with feline AIDS and had two strapping big lads (Fergus and Tyler) on my lap within minutes so poor little Annie, a tiny tabby had to fold herself into a neat little package on my chest, where she stayed for well over an hour. I was almost deafened by the raucous purring of the three of them.

I've spent enough time with the sanctuary residents to learn their names and personalities and, like people, they're all very different. Georgie was the first cat I met and he immediately planted himself on my lap and each time my hand stopped scratching his chin, he reminded me with his rusty hoarse meow that he was still there and waiting for attention. That's Georgie in the photo with me. While I was talking to Georgie, Franko draped himself across the table in front of me, reaching out to bat my hand every now and then to get my attention. And then there's little Bunny, a little tortoiseshell girl who can't stay away from me but bites my hand when I try to pet her. Fortunately for my hand, Bunny doesn't have a tooth in her head and her hard little gums clamp down on my fingers in vain. She often sits on my lap and will growl at any would-be interlopers. Then there's skinny little Martin, an elderly gent living out his days in bliss. He's between 12 and 15 years old and his poor old body's giving in to the vagaries of old age so he's winding down. When I first met Martin, I thought he'd been rescued from an abusive, neglectful owner because he's literally skin and bone with a few tufts of fur. I'm glad he's in a place where he can receive medical treatment for his failing kidneys and live out the rest of his days in comfort, surrounded by love and kindness.

I feel so lucky to be able to spend time with these animals and the few hours I'm with them every week just light me up. I love it so much, I don't even mind the 2-bus journey each way.