Justice: All Lives Matter

Not every soul arrives into this world with comfort waiting.

Some are born into fear, into fight, into survival.  Some never know the softness of a hand, the warmth of a home, or the safety of a name.

Until, maybe, they do. Even if just for a moment.

We recently said goodbye to a cat who lived his life outside.  On his own. He was likely 6 or 7 years old, nearly a senior by feral standards. For all of those years, he had survived without human touch, without a home. I had seen him occasionally near my colony feeding station over the years, but he was elusive. Trapping him for vet care or TNVR (trap, neuter, vaccinate, return)  had been impossible.

Until it wasn’t.

This Spring his visits became more regular.  One night recently, we saw him about a block from the feeding station.  So we set a trap - just in case.

He walked right in.

We've been community cat advocates for 15 years and have worked with a LOT of cats.  They don't just walk right in.  Until they are ready.

That night, he stayed in our sanctuary space. We couldn’t pet him, but we spoke softly. We surrounded him with warmth, calm, and love. He was no longer just a nameless feral face. He had a name now. We called him Justice.

At the vet the next morning, our intuition was confirmed. Justice was very ill - his body weary from a life spent dodging coyotes, owls, people, traffic, hunger, weather, and the indifferent edges of the human world. It was clear that the most compassionate act we could offer was a peaceful transition.

The vet and their team reverently held the space for his transition as he passed. He may never have lived inside a human home, but he left this life wrapped in the energy of care. He was seen. He was loved. He was not alone.

Justice was the 78th cat we’ve helped since 2010 through TNR, adoption, or foster. But numbers don’t capture the truth of what that means. Each one is a life. Each one a soul.

And Justice? He made a conscious choice that day. He walked into that trap as though it were an off-ramp from the freeway of a life spent surviving. As though he knew there was kindness waiting. I believe he trusted us with his exit.

That is an honor I do not take lightly.

If there is a message in this moment, maybe it’s this:
Look around. There is always someone—furred, feathered, or human—who could use a little mercy. A little kindness. A little justice.

Sometimes we don’t get to change the whole arc of a life.
But we can change the ending.

And sometimes, that’s enough.