Unknown R.
Google
I contacted this organisation hoping to adopt a cat. Instead, I was assessed as if I were a poorly designed building.
According to this process, decades of hands-on experience caring for cats counts for very little. The fact that my cats are insured, regularly monitored, enriched, calm, and arguably better cared for than many children in the UK is, apparently, irrelevant. Welfare here is not about daily reality, but about floor plans.
I have lived with cats for most of my life. I understand stress, slow introductions, behaviour, routine, health, and emotional needs. My cats are not accessories, they are family members. Yet none of this matters if your home does not include a garden and a pre-approved hole in a door.
The logic is impressive in its rigidity. Love, time, financial stability, experience, and commitment are all dismissed in favour of architecture. First floor flat? Case closed. Checklist complete. Human disqualified.
The irony is that adoption was a choice, not a necessity. Buying an animal privately was never an issue and, in the end, that is exactly what I did. I simply thought that choosing adoption might mean something. Apparently, ethics require planning permission.
This feels less like animal welfare and more like a quietly classist filtering system, where compassion is reserved for those with the right postcode and property type.
The cats deserve loving, knowledgeable homes. One can only hope that one day the process values lived experience and real care over square metres and floor level.