As soon as we arrived, the very first cat to greet me was a frail little grey girl, covered in scabs and sores. Her skin was red and raw in patches, her eyes squinting and irritated, and her coat was patchy with mange. Hanging from her belly were two large masses.

May May—a tiny, scared senior girl, alone and confused on the street. What’s worse, I learned she had already been given away at least once before. Now she was dumped again, left to fend for herself after years indoors. To see an old cat like her, tossed aside over and over, was just heartbreaking.