(My friends and I are a bit bored, so we decide to go to our local cat adoption center to hang out with the cats. Usually the ladies there are more than happy to have people come in and keep the cats company, but today they have a new woman working. I’m speaking with one of the older workers about how I want a kitten someday in the future, and telling her about my current cat.)

Lady: “You want a cat? Well, what is your current cat like?”

Me: “Well, she’s a bit old and grumpy. She doesn’t really get along with other cats very well, but—”

Lady: “Was she raised around other cats?”

Me: “No, she was mostly raised around dogs. She doesn’t get along with other cats. That’s why—”

Lady: “Well, is she stuck in one room all the time?”

Me: “She likes to stay in one room. If we let her roam she tends to pee on carpets, especially if there are other animals in the house. So I was planning—”

Lady: “Well, she sounds very territorial. It sounds like you want this kitten for yourself, not for your cat. If you really want an application, I’ll give you one, but you shouldn’t be introducing a new cat into your house.”

(I try and get a word in, but she just shoves an application in my hands and walks away. My friends and I are all very confused, and I turn to the older worker I was speaking to previously.)

Me: “But I’m not even planning on getting another cat until after my cat is gone. I just wanted to pet the kittens.”

Worker: “Oh, don’t worry about her. She gets angry when people come in to pet the cats because she says you’re ‘getting their hopes up.’ I think it brightens their day to have people to play with!”

(I had a great time with the cats, but I won’t be back to adopt a cat while that lady is working. Hopefully she’s gone when I’m looking to adopt a cat in a few years!)

I work in an animal shelter, and I know how difficult it is to find owners for certain pets. The older a pet is, the harder it is to get them adopted.

One day, a man walked in to give up an animal, and I sighed inwardly because it was an adult female cat. They are some of the hardest to find homes for. The cat was a beautiful torbie, young and in perfect health, but absolutely terrified.

She never really calmed down around us. She did nothing but hide and freak out whenever someone got too close. We could tell that she wasn’t doing well, as she was losing weight, and her fur was getting a lot thinner.

Then, after almost two months, a girl walked in. She looked like she was about to cry; she was shaking and biting her lip and blinking rapidly. She asked to look at our cats, especially if we had any nervous females. I was surprised and confused by her very unusual request, but I immediately thought of the torbie and took the girl to see her.

As soon as the girl saw the cat, she broke down in tears. To my surprise, the cat responded by letting out a meow, the only sound I’d ever heard her make, and instead of trying to run away, she started to carefully sneak closer.

I couldn’t think of anything to do but watch silently as the girl grabbed the cage, sobbing and blubbering incoherently, and the cat pressed herself against the girls’ fingers.

It took close to twenty minutes before the girl calmed down enough to explain things to me. The cat used to be hers, but her dad gave it away, because neither the cat nor the girl got along well with the rest of the family. Apparently, the cat was a stray that had snuck into their house and stuck around, eventually growing close to the girl, but never really settling in with the rest of the family.

The father had threatened to get rid of the cat and eventually went through with it. Now, the girl had moved out and she’d been looking all over for her cat, desperately hoping she was still alive.

I was overjoyed to see the cat return to her rightful owner. By pure coincidence, I ran into the girl a few months later at a grocery store. She showed me pictures of the cat in their new home. She had adopted an older female cat who got along famously with the first one, and both cats looked like they loved their life. The girl was even buying a grilled chicken just for her cats!

I was working at an independent non-profit animal shelter. We’d gotten a few new adult dogs in that day. A man came in to visit and found a dog that he liked. He filled out the application and said he’d be back later in the day so his wife could meet the dog. This is common and usually goes fine, so mentally I figured that dog would be going home that day.

When the wife came in, they visited with the dog, but then the wife asked to visit with another dog. So, the husband was in one room with the first dog, and the wife was in another room with a different dog. They went back and forth between the two rooms. I thought that the wife must have changed his mind, and they’d be taking home the other one instead. Not a big deal, though I was starting to feel kind of sorry for the first dog. But then the couple came up to a coworker and me and asked, “Could we introduce these two dogs? We’d kind of like to take them both home.” We said we’d be happy to do it, but it was a busy dinner shift, so they’d have to wait a little bit. The couple was very patient, and spent their time visiting with the two dogs individually.

After a little while, my coworker and I were able to take the dogs to a play area and introduce them. They were immediately friendly and playful! They started running around the play area. They got along great, and the couple took two dogs home that day.

(I work at an animal shelter. We have several different buildings on our site, and different rooms for the cats to be in. Our frequent volunteers know some of the longer-term resident cats really well and notice when they are adopted or pass away.)

Volunteer: “I saw that [Cat #1] was adopted!”

Me: “No, she is right here.” *points to [Cat #1]*

Volunteer: “I mean [Cat #1] out in [Room #2].”

Me: “I don’t think we have a cat by that name in [Room #2].”

Volunteer: “With the squished face? She was moved to [Other Adoption Center].”

Me: “Oh, you mean [Cat #2]?”

Volunteer: “I call her [Cat #1].”

Me: “Okay, I was unaware of that.”

Volunteer: “Or sometimes Amanda because her eyes look like Amanda Bynes.”

Me: “…”

(I volunteer at a cat rescue shelter. Our manager sends an email around, warning us of a lady who has been dropping by every day, asking about discounts on the price of adopting cats. [We charge $100 for vaccinations, grooming, and a basic medical checkup, to ensure the cats are as healthy as can be]. Lo and behold, this woman [who looks to be in her mid 60s] indeed drops by during my shift and tries the same spiel, claiming she deserves to pay less for adopting our kitties.)

Woman: “These are MY cats! Well, they’re clones of them at least!”

Me: “I… uh… clones?”

Woman: “Don’t look at me like that! I know how this works! You pay the vets around the state to send you blood samples and DNA from the felines they treat, and then you grow clones in the back there!”

(She points at the door to our onsite vet.)

Woman: “You’ve got, what, six or seven tanks back there? Enough to keep these cages full?”

Me: “Ma’am… I… I can assure you, these cats are rescues! They were sent to us, not grown here!”

Woman: “Yeah, right, look at this one!” *She gestures to a cute calico that’s staring at her from its basking hammock on the window.* “That’s clearly a clone of my precious Bertie! It’s got the same coat color, the same eyes…”

(She then proceeds to stab her finger into the poor cat’s belly. As expected, the cat doesn’t like this, and swats at her.)

Woman: “Even the same foul temperament! You clearly just took a sample of Bertie’s blood from when I took him to [nearby vet] and made a copy of him!”

Me: *trying very hard not to laugh* “Ma’am… that’s… I promise you, that’s not the case. Many cats have similar coats, eyes, and other attributes.”

Woman: “That’s my Bertie! Ugh, look. I’ve got myself a new sugar daddy! Plenty of money to sue the s*** out of you unless you give me back all the cats I’ve lost and you cloned!”

Me: “Ma’am… look… if you want to adopt one or more of these cats, we’ll happily work with you. If you feel the adoption fee is too high, that’s something to discuss with my manager.”

Woman: “Fine! I’ll come back and try again tomorrow. Mark my words though, I WILL get my kitties back from you!”

(She left and I immediately called my manager to tell her what happened. The woman then proceeded to come back for the next three days and repeat the same spiel of us housing cats that were actually clones of other cats, though she wavered between them being her cats or the cats of her friends, and how her new sugar daddy would provide all the money she needed to sue us. After that, however, she apparently grew bored, because we’ve never seen her since.)