26/10/2025

ON SUNDAY October 26, 2025 theSunday Special XII

Too often, adoption is romanticised as a redemptive arc – for both the pet and the person. You sign the papers, post a photo with the hashtag AdoptDon’tShop and IHHO OLNH \RX¶YH FURVVHG WKH ¿QLVK OLQH %XW really, you’re only at the starting blocks. The reality is far messier. That dog with trauma may never be “normal”. That cat, once familiar with cruelty, may never enjoy being touched. That senior dog might come with vet bills, arthritis and occasional accidents on your newly PRSSHG ÀRRU They don’t need a saviour. They need a carer – someone who will wake up early, clean messes without resentment and accept that gratitude might never look the way you imagined. Healing doesn’t follow a timeline. Not every story ends with the animal curled at your feet in perfect peace. Yet, the quiet victories – the first tail wag, the ¿UVW WLPH WKH\ HDW ZLWKRXW IHDU ± DUH IDU more meaningful than any social media applause. It’s not about heroism … it’s about showing up In Malaysia, adopting a rescue animal isn’t always straightforward. Many animals up for adoption are strays or mixed breeds with unknown histories. Some have lived their entire lives outdoors. Others have survived car accidents, illnesses or abuse. Rehabilitation can take months – some times years. Behavioural challenges can push even the most patient owners to their limits. Adoption centres, while doing mean ingful work, sometimes oversell the H[SHULHQFH LQ WKHLU GHVSHUDWLRQ WR ¿QG homes. They underplay the challenges, hoping the warmth of a home outweighs the risk of return. But when adopters are unprepared – emotionally, financially or logistically – the consequences can be severe. Pets are returned. Or worse, neglected behind closed doors. Then there’s the unspoken culture of guilt. In the rush to promote adop tion, people who purchase pets – even responsibly, from ethical breeders – are often painted as morally inferior. But an adopted pet in a negligent home is QRW EHWWHU R̆ WKDQ D SXUFKDVHG RQH LQ D

Adoption is more than a weekend decision. These questions aren’t meant to scare you off – just to make sure you’re stepping in with both eyes open. • Why now: Is this a response to emotion or a carefully timed decision that fits your life? • What do I know about the animal: Have I asked about medical history, temperament, past trauma or trig gers? • Can I meet their needs consis tently: Do I have time, energy, backup care and financial room for the unexpected? • What’s my plan if things get tough: Will I invest in behavioural help or medical care or give up when it’s hard? • Am I adopting for the animal or for me: Would I still do this if no one ever praised me for it? If you can answer honestly and still feel ready – go ahead. But if hesita tion lingers, wait. Sometimes the kindest thing you can do is pause until you’re truly prepared. A quick gut check before you adopt Adopting a pet doesn’t make you a hero. Being there for that pet – every day, through tantrums, trauma and time – does. So if you’re considering adoption, take your time. Ask the tough questions. Prepare your home, your wallet and your heart because this isn’t just about rescuing a life. It’s about honouring it. That, more than any moment of ap plause, is what truly makes you noble. responsible, loving environment. Ethics matter. But so does readiness. Are you doing it for them or for you? The conversation shouldn’t be about guilt. It should be about preparedness. About long-term capacity. Because the pet doesn’t care how you found them, they care how you treat them – every day after. Before adopting, it’s worth asking: Am I doing this for the animal or for myself? Am I ready to build routines around their QHHGV QRW PLQH" &DQ , D̆ RUG YHWHULQDU\ care if things go wrong? Do I have a plan if I travel, move or struggle with work–life balance? These are not deterrents. They’re acts of kindness – the kind that begins before you bring the animal home. None of this is meant to discourage adoption. Quite the opposite. When done with clarity, humility and commitment, adoption is one of the most beautiful things you can do. When you look at a scarred animal and say, “I see you. I choose you.” When you adapt your life to accommodate theirs, not the other way around. In Malaysia, such stories do exist. People have taken in blind cats, rescued senior dogs from drains or rehabilitated feral strays into loving companions. These aren’t tales of heroism. They’re stories of TXLHW FRQVLVWHQW H̆ RUW 1R KDVKWDJV -XVW presence.

The trouble with good intentions We mean well when we adopt. But pets with trauma, medical needs or behavioural issues require more than warm feelings – they need unwavering presence

T HERE’S something deeply appealing about the idea of res cue. It paints a beautiful story: You saved a life. You gave an animal a second chance. You’re a good person. And you probably are. But sometimes, adoption is treated like a moral accessory – a feel-good DFW ZLWK OLWWOH UHÀHFWLRQ DERXW ORQJ term consequences. It becomes more about how the act is perceived than the reality that follows. In urban centres like Kuala Lumpur and Penang, animal adoption drives have become as familiar as weekend bazaars. Pop-up booths and well-meaning volunteers often draw in passers-by who, moved by the stories or the eyes of a trembling dog, make an impulsive decision to adopt. The emotional pull is strong. The pressure to “do good” is subtle, but very real. Yet rescuing is not the same as raising. The moment of rescue is only a doorway – not the home beyond it. That initial act of kindness does not automatically translate into a lifetime of care, nor does it guarantee understanding, patience or the willingness to adapt.

BY CECELIA FONG

Being noble isn’t about what you post on social media. It’s about what you practise.