If the salary was the same, what job would you be doing right now and why?

This one didn’t take me long to answer.

I’d probably be working with animals.

There was a brief moment where I considered saying giraffes, because I absolutely love giraffes.

There’s something wonderfully ridiculous about them.

They’re basically proof that nature occasionally just makes things up as it goes along.

But then I thought about it properly.

And there was really only one answer.

Cats.

Definitely cats.

More specifically, I think I’d like to run a foster home for elderly and terminally ill cats that are currently in rescue centres.

Because there’s something about the idea that really gets me.

Imagine being an older cat.

You’ve already spent much of your life being someone’s companion. Maybe you’ve known a warm home, a comfortable sofa and someone who loved you.

Then, for whatever reason, you find yourself in a rescue centre.

Surrounded by unfamiliar smells.

Strange noises.

Other cats.

People coming and going.

And perhaps, because you’re old or poorly, nobody chooses you.

Everyone wants the kitten.

The young cat.

The one with years of life ahead of them.

And I understand that.

I really do.

But those older cats still have something to give.

They still have love.

They still have personalities.

They still deserve a warm lap, a comfortable bed and someone to tell them that they are a very good cat approximately seventeen times a day.

So, if money wasn’t the deciding factor, I think that’s where I’d want to be.

I’d have a house full of elderly and terminally ill cats.

There’d probably be blankets everywhere.

Cosy beds in every room.

Furniture specifically chosen according to feline requirements, obviously.

And enough scratching posts to make the place look like a particularly eccentric furniture shop.

And cats.

Lots and lots of cats.

The giraffes might have to wait.

Because what I’d really want to give those cats is something that every living creature deserves.

Comfort.

Not necessarily more time.

Sometimes we simply can’t give them that.

But we can make the time they have left better.

If a cat has only weeks or months left, I’d rather those weeks or months were spent somewhere warm and safe, surrounded by affection, than sitting in a cage because nobody wanted an old or poorly cat.

And perhaps that’s what appeals to me most about the idea.

You wouldn’t be saving every cat.

You couldn’t.

Nobody can.

But you could make a difference to this one.

And then the next one.

And the next.

Sometimes we get so caught up worrying about whether we can change the whole world that we forget we can make one tiny corner of it better.

For one person.

And if I could spend my working day doing that?

Honestly, I think I’d consider myself incredibly lucky.

There’s that saying:

“Find a job you love, and you’ll never work a day in your life.”

I’m not sure that’s entirely true.

I suspect cleaning litter trays for twelve elderly cats would occasionally feel very much like work.

But if the reward was knowing that, for however long they had left, those cats were warm, comfortable, loved and safe…

I think I’d cope with the litter trays.

After all, what better way could there be to spend a life than making another life a little bit better?

Even if that life happens to shed fur on absolutely everything.

Stay safe,

BC