On a particularly sunny day in late August, I was sitting on the floor in the front room of my sweltering apartment with my sweet Ragdoll cat, Alpine, sitting nearby. She was gracefully allowing me to feel my feelings, and boy was I. Fuming with righteous indignation, I complained to her about how my best human friend had bluntly called me to account for my month-long wallowing session. My friend agreed that my circumstances were unfair and hurtful. She agreed that what happened was difficult to make sense of. And then, to my annoyance, she went on to say what happened was in the past, and I needed to move beyond my navel gazing and self-pity. She urged me to get outside myself, but she didn’t stop there. She told me I needed to do something for someone else. And I was angry because the responsibility for my happiness had just been shifted to me.
“Can you believe her nerve?” I asked Alpine, who sweetly met my irritation with her Zen-like gaze that seemed to say, “Why can’t you just stay in the moment?”
Then she rolled onto her back to show me her white tummy fluff.
“What am I supposed to do?” I pleaded. “I mean I don’t have anything to offer anyone.” (That was my depression talking). “I’m hurting. How dare she expect me to do anything other than what I’m doing?” Alpine rolled to the other side and looked over her shoulder at me, and then it all fell together. I could help with cats because I really did love cats, especially my sweet girl.
Thus began a life of service to feline companions and those of us who adore them. For my first volunteer gig, I signed up to socialize cats at the local Humane Society. After helping for a month or two, I was asked to participate in a program that coordinated taking animals to visit assisted living facilities and nursing homes. I was often moved, almost to tears, by the little ladies who shared stories about the cats they had loved. I was 
also amused by the old men whose weather worn faces would melt into tender smiles as they held kittens and talked baby talk to them. I felt happy and hopeful after these encounters, and I also realized I had something to give to make others happy and hopeful too. My journey as a volunteer has been a long one, indeed, and I won’t bore you with the entire chronology. At present, I am helping EveryCat by using my professional skills as a writer, editor, and grammarian. Cats and words—for me, nothing could be better.
I’ve also been fortunate in getting to participate in person with EveryCat education. I got to play trivia at the EveryCat table with folks at the Colorado Springs CatFest this past spring and especially enjoyed getting to engage with the reticent adults. I sincerely appreciated coaxing them into playing the game and seeing how astounded they looked when I handed over their prize. I’m also looking forward to going to the next Colorado CatFest in Denver this coming November, where I’ll be doing whatever is needed. I’ve even been able to draw my husband into help. While he enjoys our three cats, he’s been reluctant to advertise that he’s a cat daddy to others, but seeing all the feline-infused joy at these events I keep dragging him to has loosened him up. He’s coming around and enjoys participating.
The EveryCat Feline Health Foundation is especially dear to me as I have had to help three of my beloved friends cross over the Rainbow Bridge. One succumbed to diabetes, one to a urethra that closed again after a major surgery, and one from a botched new pet introduction. Sadly, I have had to move on from my many mistakes and try to do better. And I can do better because I have more resources available to me because of the good work that has come out of feline health research. The lives of my three current cat companions—Sheba, Waldo, and Jellybean—will be better, too.
I continue to rediscover that I have so much to learn myself, but I’m also not alone. There’s considerable information we don’t know about the species—yet. I’m hopeful and grateful to have the ability and the good fortune to participate as an EveryCat volunteer and as part of the solution to making the lives of cats and those who love them even better.
~Sharon Graham Ellis
Sharon Graham-Ellis currently shares her home (and her reading chair) with three felines and her husband who is a loving cat daddy. She has cared for cats most of her life and has been fortunate to have been a life-time guardian of four feline folk who have now crossed over. She has volunteered at local shelters and promoted Trap, Neuter, and Return (TNR) programs as well as assisted with directly saving several cat lives. She is most delighted in having rescued six tuxedo cats and getting them all placed into loving forever homes. As a professional editor and published author, Sharon looks forward to using her talents to better the lives of every cat through her service for EveryCat Health Foundation.