My family has had 17 cats in my lifetime. Crazy, I know. We had plenty of space for them, and what started as one quickly exploded into a full-flown pack. My parents’ problem was that they wouldn’t turn them away, and our friends knew that about us. All of our cats are, or were, either strays or they were from the humane society. My parents are compassionate people; it seems to follow suit that I have three adopted siblings. Having so much life in one house is hectic but also nurtured a love of animals in me, and here I am, 10,000 miles from home, with two frisky, furry beasts to call my own.

Most shelters won’t give a pet up to you unless they feel you are truly committed to it. It is unfortunately very common for foreigners and Koreans alike to abandon their pets after seeing how much work they are or how messy they can be. I had to sign a contract stating that I would never harm, neglect, or abandon my cat, and if I could not care for it any longer to return it to the shelter where it was from. It seems a rigorous process to someone from America who got many unwanted pets practically thrown through her front door. It’s simply a sad fact that people don’t take a pet seriously as a life-long commitment. Hence the countless dirty, bedraggled, scrawny felines prowling garbage bags at night.

I never planned on having animals in Korea. Despite wanting them badly back home, I knew that my income, lifestyle and living arrangements were not optimal for caring for a happy, healthy pet. The cost of litter, food, and pet supplies, not to mention vet bills (vaccinations, microchips, spaying/neutering, random health catastrophes) were simply out of the question when working retail and trying to pass your classes at university. But now, teaching in the afternoon and having a steady income, it became more and more of a possibility. First, I began to research traveling with pets—there was no way I was going to leave a beloved pet in Korea once I went home. Traveling to America with a cat or small dog is relatively easy, without quarantine, while in some countries, such as Canada and places within the United Kingdom, it is considerably more complicated. Information can be found at this site, but restrictions per airline can differ. Korean air has its own set of guidelines.

The second step was to find a shelter and check it out. I got my first cat at a shelter in Seoul. Barry,a 7-month old calico met me with green, curious eyes. She wasn’t cuddly and she wasn’t cold to me—merely a moment of curiosity and then disinterest. We took her home, her protesting very vocally the whole train ride back. Two hours of howling and meowing without turning back is a true testament to commitment. However, startling the locals was amusing.

A lot of people in Korea abhor cats and see them as vermin, tearing open garbage with their filthy, germ-ridden paws and creeping around the streets and under cars with the rats (which are not as appetizing as the garbage.) They are poisoned, strangled, burned, run over, drowned and otherwise exterminated here. Most people don’t want them as pets. However, when waiting in the KTX station with a carrier housing the most protesting voice in the whole building, many people came around and peered in with amusement. Some seemed annoyed, but most thought it strange that I would be carrying around a cat. No one was fearful, but everyone seemed curious. I’m hoping that to our onlookers, a “domesticated” cat was seen as very different and much less intimidating than the dirty, dangerous “street” cats.

Barry, adapted quickly to family life. She needed scheduled feeding, as leaving a big bowl of food at her disposal for the day was quickly swallowed up in minimal time. She never had an accident, and uses her litter box daintily, even cleaning up after my other cat would use it. She was clean, friendly, and curious. But she quickly found ways to entertain herself and that sharp mind of hers. She even tried chewing open inedible things in thick plastics because other plastics of the past had yielded rewards. And to top it off, she did not like to cuddle. Ever.

I had never had such a troublesome cat before. And noisy. I talked to the woman who had first arranged the adoption. She seemed to think that Korean cats were more vocal than the ones back in Canada. She suggested that Barry needed more stimulation, and that was why she was being so destructive. So we went out and bought some toys. And a spray bottle.

Barry is a rigorous little athlete. She will play until she pants like a dog. She has boundless energy and is too intelligent to be fooled by tricks. She learns quickly and though dissuaded by the spray bottle to jump onto the counters, also learned that if she does it at night, we’re too tired to crawl out of bed to yell at her. She even sits for dinner on command, after a few weeks of practice. She needs at least fifteen to twenty minutes a day exercising, whether chasing a laser pointer or fishing toy, and she adores jumping through paper bags, hiding in plastic ones, and destroying cardboard boxes. My boyfriend and I save boxes and bags from E-mart just so she can play with them and then tear them apart. She doesn’t cuddle, but she always hovers wherever I go when I’m home. And she lays down in front of the door when I return from work to be pet and otherwise soak up some attention.

For more information on adoption, fostering, donating or volunteering: Animal Rescue Korea (ARK) Korean Animal Protection Society (KAPS): The Daegu Animal Shelter is located off of the Red Line, at the Damyoung Station, Exit 4.

View Korean Animal Protection Society – Daegu in a larger map

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