Where did I come from?

Last night I watched Cats: 101 on Animal Planet. It has a fascinating segment on each of the main breeds.
I, of course, am a stunningly handsome Persian: one of the oldest and most distinguished of Royal breeds. Persians and Himalayans (a Persian-Siamese cross-breed) make up the majority of residents here at Chatopia.

The programe talks about how cuddly, soft and loving we are, and that we're the most popular breed in the world today. The only problem is that no-one mentions where we come from.

Easily half of the cats here at Chatopia were rescued from breeders who didn't care for them properly. Cramped in tiny cages, never cleaned, not fed properly and inbred. Not all breeders are like this, but how can humans shopping at the pet store know where we came from? They buy a little kitten seperated from his poor Mom before he was even finished weaning. Meanwhile the Mom is forced to have another litter, and another, and another. Her life is short and exhausting.
I never even knew my Mom.

Those kittens soon grow up and the humans who bought them lose interest or don't want inanimate objects in their house scratched. Can you believe some humans think their sofas are more important than us living, loving cats? We're chucked out on the street - defenceless and starving in Quebec's freezing winter.
That's where animal charities like Animal Adoption Montreal, The Humane Society and SPCA find us. They rescue us and we are added to the countless other abandoned souls who need a home.

I overheard one of the volunteers saying that 20-30 abandoned cats are brought to the main shelters every day.

I have enough cuddle-power in me to supply a whole house full of humans with daily doses of love. Why do humans still go to the pet store when there are so many of us here: waiting for them to take us home?