I’m a wuss. A wimp. A terrible soft soft thing like cotton tissues that break when you use them for a sniffle, or maybe the inside of a Lindt truffle.

I can’t go through with working at the SPCA. I went to the volunteer induction as planned… and quickly lost count of the number of times my heart broke.

Don’t get me wrong, they do amazing work there. I cannot believe they get no government funding. The animals are loved and the staff work incredible hours, and all the volunteers are there because they’re passionate about animals and about change.

So am I. But the sight of all those cats just did me in. And we didn’t even see any of the obviously abused ones.

They have a cat run made up of four joint lounge areas where the cats can hang out and play. Many came running up to the doors and cried out when we walked by. I wanted All Of Them. I want to love them, and name them my squishy, and they shall be my squishy.

In actual fact, I”M the one who’s squishy.

And that was just the ones on the loose. The ones in cages were the worst. Most perked up as we came in, talking away. There was one little tortoishell who came right up to the door and pushed her face up against it, and reached out a paw to me. She couldn’t have said “Take me home!” any clearer if she opened her mouth and yelled in English.

I just can’t deal with that every week. At the moment I’m trying so hard to resist the urge not to bring ONE home, let alone the sixteen I’d inevitably end up with.

So yeah. Sarah the wimp. I’m annoyed with myself, but it can’t be helped. I don’t like like cats, I ADORE cats. And I’m pretty sure I’d end up being more of a hindrance than a help.

If anyone else thinks they can handle it, please check out http://www.wellingtonspca.org.nz/how-you-can-help/hands-on-help/volunteering or even better http://www.wellingtonspca.org.nz/adopt-a-pet/how-do-i-adopt/process