When I was 23, I took my parents’ cat to the vet for them. They had a scheduling conflict, but their cat was unwell and I had the day off, so I filled in. As I stood at the front desk to check in, I heard an unearthly yowling coming from the lobby behind me. In a condo in the corner was the ugliest, loudest Siamese cat I had ever seen. Naturally, it was love at first sound and I asked to meet him. He was cross-eyed, knock kneed, had a broken tail tip and bat ears. When I left that day, I took him with me. A few days later, I returned for his bonded cat friend who had been in foster with a staff member of the vet practice. They were the perfect pre-made cat family for my first adult pets; they had been together since they were kittens, had lovely house manners and even answered to their names.

At first my new cat’s sniffles didn’t concern me too much, but as we did vet visit after vet visit, medication after medication and he continued to sneeze very gooey sneezes, I started getting worried. We went to our local specialty practice and he was diagnosed with hyperplastic rhinitis. I was able to pay for that because I had wonderful parents who were both in a position to help me and willing to do so. Otherwise, I would have had to bring him back to the vet I got him from or to my local shelter as the specialty vet costs were well outside my just-out-of-college budget.

My wonderful Siamese Phantom was only with me for three years before he was euthanized due to complications from his condition. My options were treatments every other week for the rest of his life to the tune of $800 a treatment or to euthanize him. I chose the latter because it was the humane decision and because I could not have possibly found the money; it was what I made for an entire two-week paycheck. I still miss him almost 20 years later and I am so grateful I got the time with him that I did, even if it was far too short.

The cat he was bonded with, Banshee, lived to 16, and in the 13 years I had him, he became diabetic, developed hyperthyroidism and eventually kidney disease. He was the gentlest, sweetest cat in the whole world. He greeted me at the door every time I came home, curled up in my lap every time I sat down and slept in my armpit every night. I got a credit card I kept just for pet emergencies after my experiences with Phantom. Banshee put that credit card to work, but I regret none of the money spent.

Per Shelter Animals Count, in 2023, 6.5 million pets entered U.S. shelters and rescues, pets just like my two cats. Six hundred and ninety thousand of them were euthanized. Keep in mind that reporting data to SAC is voluntary and many shelters do not participate in data collection. The actual number of euthanasias is higher.

With that in mind, let’s reexamine the idea that if people cannot afford a pet, they should not have one. What does “afford” mean? Does it mean that someone should be able to buy food and supply annual vaccines and a vet exam? That seems reasonable, and I determined that I was able to do that before I adopted my cats. Does it mean that someone should also be able to pay for a specialty vet practice after visits to their regular vet do not garner answers? In 2003, those visits and diagnostics for Phantom cost almost $1,000. Per the inflation calculator, that would be roughly $1,700 now, and that is in addition to the vet visits and diagnostics I had already done and the medications I had already purchased.

Being able to provide for any and every possible need at all life stages for any pet is out of reach for many Americans. I am a lifelong nonprofit worker and providing for my pets at that level has been out of reach for me for a lot of my life. As someone who has devoted her life to pets, I am well aware of the irony. I worry that as a society, we are making pet ownership out of reach for many loving homes. Would it have been wrong for me to say that I couldn’t afford Banshee’s ongoing medications and testing needs for his diabetes? No, it was very expensive. I ate a lot of store brand box mac and cheese to afford his insulin at the pharmacy. Is it wrong to adopt a pet and hope that nothing significant goes wrong? I would argue no. Until no more pets are being euthanized for a lack of shelter housing space, I think that giving a seemingly healthy pet a chance in a home is better than not trying. If something goes wrong and they go back to the shelter, at least they got to be a part of a family in the meantime, which cannot be said for at least 690,000 pets last year.

Jess Townsend is executive director of Midcoast Humane.