08/04/2026
It was December of 2024 the first time I walked into the shelter. I had decided for the birthday that year I was gifting myself a cat. Our family had always had 4-legged friends in it, but they were never mine. I had seen this one cat's profile on the Shelters page and I just knew I had to have him. At the time I thought it was because he was going to be my little buddy, which he is at times. But now I know that there were bigger plans ahead for me and the shelter, and that by adopting my sweet boy Java I would make one of the greatest decisions to improve my own mental health. I had no idea what impact volunteering could have for your mental health or how beneficial it all would be. Before we had even finalized the adoption I decided we should volunteer. That first official volunteer shift was a nerve wracking day, I had no idea what to expect, would the people like me? But I put on a brave face anyways because I was doing this for my kids, for their mental health. Or so I thought at the time. We had just been through one of the hardest years of our lives, and we needed something good, something to look forward to every week. But that didn't change the fact that it was a scary new thing for me. We walked into the shelter to be greeted by a new face, not the same person who had done our orientation the week before. This was the Shelter Manager, and immediately he tells me he over booked himself, and throws us in with another volunteer to show us how they did things. At the time I thought nothing of it, it's not like feeding and scooping cat litter was hard but now I know that's generally not how things are done. That first shift came and went, we did what we were told, and chatted with the other volunteer throughout the shift. The kids enjoyed themselves and so I thought this will be good, we will be back.
As a therapist who takes care of other people's mental health day in and day out, it's even more important that I take care of my own. I have my own therapist, I take walks for my mental health, I relax and get out in nature. But the idea that volunteering could become a huge part of my own mental health healing wasn't in my mind. Like I said before, I was doing this for my kids. So when the months started to pass by and I started to get to know the people, the organization, the process it came as a surprise to me how much I actually enjoyed helping. Cat's and other animals are helpless, kind of like babies, and although many of them have loving homes, so many more have heartbreaking stories, being left to die, or abandoned on the side of the road. There is something very fulfilling watching an animal come into it's personality after being first brought into the shelter. I couldn't believe how much I enjoyed being a part of those animals stories, providing a safe and warm place, where they can learn that humans can be trusted. I also found friends(who I now call family), people who were kind and caring, who also either worked or volunteered for the Shelter. I found my Shelter family. That day when I decided to adopt Java I had no idea that nearly 2 years later I would be a huge part of the Shelter family, spending my weekends doing adoption events, cat care in the shelter. Taking on more responsibility both with in the shelter but also by joining the board of directors, and the one thing that continues to be true, no matter how busy I am, is that working and supporting this cause has improved my mental health more than any other one decision I have made in my life.
Lets go back, prior to my time at the shelter. I was living in a place of chronic stress, and in active burnout. I was struggling with anxiety, depression, dealing with trauma and just over all being emotionally exhausted all the time. Nothing brought me joy anymore, and my life felt chaotically out of control all the time. It was like I was one of the abandoned cats, who had just been dumped on the side of the road. My whole life had been turned upside down that year, and I felt abandoned and alone as I am sure every single cat that comes into our care feels. There was so much pressure to hold everything together at all times, but that meant I was falling apart on the inside. When I started volunteering I thought that last thing I need is one more thing on my plate, but I pushed through those doors week and after week anyways because it brought joy to my kids life. And for those 3 hours I could turn my brain off, and simply take care of the cat in front of me. It was simple, and easy and predictable. There was order, routine and clear expectations. There is something profoundly healing about being around animals, especially those in a shelter. They don't care what letters come after your name, what you do for a living, or whether you've had a productive day. They don't expect you to have all the answers or hold everything together. They simply respond to how you show up in the moment. Shelter animals, in particular, have often experienced loss, fear, neglect, or uncertainty. Their trust isn't given freely, it has to be earned through consistency, patience, and gentle presence. As a therapist, I couldn't help but notice the parallels. Healing, whether in people or animals, begins with safety. When we offer calm, predictable care, we create opportunities for co-regulation, where two nervous systems help each other settle. Sitting quietly with a frightened cat naturally pulls you into mindfulness, asking you to slow down and be fully present. There are no shortcuts, no perfectly crafted words, just the steady work of showing up. In many ways, the attachment that develops with shelter animals reminds us that trust grows one safe interaction at a time. Their resilience, honesty, and ability to slowly lean into connection became a powerful reminder that healing doesn't happen because someone is "fixed." It happens because someone finally feels safe enough to believe that connection is possible. This all reminded me that healing isn't linear, and that trust and safety CAN be rebuilt after you've lost it. It reminded me that life after trauma and stress can still be happy. Animals often arrive scared, shut down, or reactive. Sometimes they won't eat, or pull away from a kind touch. But with patience, consistency and kindness they will start to trust again. In so many way I related to those animals, being scared and abandoned, not knowing where or how I was going to survive. And just like those animals slowly over time I started to feel joy again. Watching cats come and leave to their forever homes. Watching volunteers fall in love with animals. Watching the staff put so much of themselves into taking care of the animals whether they were in the shelter for a few hours, and then returned home, or weeks sometimes months before finding a forever home. Watching kittens scale kennels with the most epic zoomies ever, makes me smile every time. Watching sad pathetic cats come in and turn sweet, loving and energetic. I saw tiny victories in those 4 paws, and I began to see tiny victories in my own life.
While my experience at the animal shelter felt deeply personal, it turns out there's solid science behind why it made such a difference. Research has shown that interacting with animals can lower cortisol, the body's primary stress hormone, while increasing oxytocin, the hormone associated with bonding, trust, and feelings of connection. Spending time with animals has also been linked to lower blood pressure, improved mood, reduced anxiety, and a decreased sense of loneliness. But I don't believe it was just the animals that helped me heal. It was the routine of showing up each week, the sense of purpose that came from knowing I was making a small difference, and the community of people who shared a common goal of caring for vulnerable animals. It was the physical movement of cleaning kennels, and carrying supplies. It was the moments of quiet, and the opportunity to step away from my own worries and focus on another living being. Healing often isn't one big breakthrough, it is the accumulation of small, meaningful moments. For me, the shelter became a place where science and compassion quietly worked together, reminding me that sometimes the simplest acts of caring can have the most profound impact on our mental health.
Working at the animal shelter didn't just support my own mental health, it changed the way I think about healing as a therapist. It deepened my empathy, not only for my clients but for the different ways people learn to trust, connect, and feel safe again. Watching frightened animals slowly relax through consistent, compassionate interactions reinforced what I already knew intellectually: our nervous systems are always paying attention. Healing doesn't happen because someone tells us we're safe; it happens because we begin to experience safety over and over again. That experience has strengthened the way I approach nervous system regulation in the therapy room, encouraging me to slow down, prioritize connection before intervention, and recognize that meaningful change often starts with simply feeling seen and accepted. It also renewed my appreciation for the powerful role animals can play in the healing process. My own journey reminded me that some of the most transformative moments don't happen during deep conversations, they happen while sitting quietly beside another living being, sharing a moment of calm, laughter, or connection. That understanding has become one of the driving forces behind KAT (Kitten Assisted Therapy) at Soul Connection Counselling. Espresso Bean, one of my resident therapy kittens, isn't there to replace traditional therapy; he's there to complement it. His playful curiosity, gentle affection, and ability to bring people into the present moment can help create an environment where clients feel more relaxed, regulated, and open to the therapeutic process. While kittens aren't the answer to every struggle, they can help create the conditions where healing feels a little safer and a little more accessible.
Perhaps the greatest lesson the shelter gave me is this: healing doesn't only happen inside a therapy office. It happens in the quiet moments of caring for another living being, in finding purpose outside of ourselves, in feeling connected to a community, and in allowing our nervous systems to remember what calm feels like. As therapists, we can guide the journey, but healing often continues in the spaces between sessions, in the places where life gently reminds us that we are capable of connection, resilience, and hope.
You Don't Have to Volunteer at an Animal Shelter: Healing through animals can look like:
-Walking a neighbor's dog
-Fostering
-Visiting a cat café
-Spending time with your own pet
-Donating supplies
-Supporting local rescues
-Simply watching birds at a park
The goal isn't the shelter. The goal is meaningful connection.
The animals probably don't know they helped me. They just needed someone to feed them, clean their space, or sit quietly beside them. But somewhere between the meowing, the purring, I found pieces of myself I thought I'd lost. I found peace, love and a family! Healing doesn't always begin with finding the right words. Sometimes it begins with finding something, or someone, to care for until you're ready to care for yourself again.
The Therapist Chair- and Animal Enthusiast.
We are so glad that you’ve found us & we look forward to working with you & those you love! We want to make it as easy as possible to access the support that you need.
