Part Three: Where Are All the Cats?

The first time I walked through Palm Valley Animal Center, I was overwhelmed. It wasn’t the size that got me. It was huge, spread over five acres in Edinburg, Texas. It wasn’t the rows of kennels or the noise or even the heat.

It was what I didn’t see.

Where were all the cats?

This was the main shelter in the region, taking in the majority of animals for the entire Rio Grande Valley. That year, they were taking in around 34,000 animals. Of those, 4,000 to 6,000 were possums. So roughly 28,000 dogs and cats. If we assume an even split, we were likely talking 12,000 to 14,000 cats per year.

But on that first walkthrough, I saw one room with cats.

One.

The rest of the property was filled with dogs. Kennel after kennel. Outdoor runs. Rows of barking, jumping, pacing dogs. But cats? Almost invisible.

Eventually, we got to intake. That’s where it clicked.

The intake area was an open-air sally port lined with 20 or so dog kennels. Connected to that were three rooms for cats. That was it. Three. No overflow. No backup space. No auxiliary buildings. Just three small rooms for 12,000 cats to pass through.

Inside those rooms, it was overwhelming. Cages were stacked on cages. Actual metal dog crates were placed on top of cat condos to fit more in. Cats of all ages, temperaments, and health conditions were crammed into every available inch. Cats from different towns were shoved together. Some were friendly. Some were feral. Some were sick. Some were bottle babies.

It wasn’t just overcapacity. It was chaos. It was unsafe. It was unfair to the animals and to the one staff member assigned to clean all of it each day.

Why was it like this?

We found four big reasons:

• No space. Cats had three rooms. Dogs had way more, still not enough, but way more.

• Low adoptions. Cats weren’t getting out through the front door.

• No foster program. We had nothing in place for kittens or nursing moms.

• No TNR. Most cities in the region didn’t allow trap-neuter-return. That meant every outdoor cat was impounded, even if it was healthy and thriving where it was.

This was the system. And it was failing.

So we went to work.

Laying the Groundwork for Change

We started rebuilding the foster program from scratch. We made it easy to say yes. No long forms. No red tape. If someone had a safe place and a kind heart, we gave them what they needed: formula, bottles, bedding, and clear instructions. And we followed up. That kind of accessibility brought people in. Some came back again and again.

Next, we started trying to boost adoptions. That meant improving how we housed cats, how we marketed them, and how we welcomed adopters. Making cats more visible, both in person and online, was key.

And then came the big one: TNR.

Changing Policy, One City at a Time

Palm Valley had contracts with 14 or 15 municipalities across the region. Most of them didn’t allow TNR. Legally, we couldn’t return healthy outdoor cats to where they came from. We had to impound them.

That’s where Best Friends came in. Their team helped us draft model TNR ordinances. Then we started visiting city councils, one by one. We explained what TNR actually is and what it isn’t.

We brought the facts:

• TNR reduces shelter intake and euthanasia

• Returning sterilized cats helps stabilize outdoor populations

• Cities save money when intake drops

• Public complaints decrease when cats are fixed and vaccinated

It wasn’t always easy. These were rooms full of people who didn’t necessarily care about cats. But we kept showing up. We kept bringing the data. And we kept the conversation focused on community outcomes, not just shelter goals.

Slowly, cities started saying yes.

When the first approvals came through, it felt like the tide was finally turning. We had a legal way to return healthy cats to their outdoor homes. It gave the shelter breathing room. And it gave the cats a fair chance.

More Space, More Solutions

At the same time, we turned to our second facility, the Laurie P. Andrews PAWS Center, and opened up more cat housing there. It wasn’t designed for back-of-house capacity, but we made it work.

We had also been building out outdoor cat spaces, hoping for the day we could launch a full return-to-field program. But because we didn’t have legal TNR approval yet, those areas sat unused.

When we finally got the green light, we were ready.

Only, those cat houses didn’t stay cat houses.

They became possum houses.

That story is coming next!

Final Thoughts

This was one of the hardest periods I’ve worked through in animal sheltering. But it taught me this: meaningful change is slow, messy, and rarely obvious at first glance.

Sometimes the problem is what you don’t see, like the missing cats. Sometimes the solution isn’t flashy. It’s policy work, community conversations, and small shifts in access. And sometimes, the real work starts long before the wins.

But if you keep showing up, if you stay focused on the animals and the people, you can move the needle.

One change, one room, one cat, one ordinance, one foster, and one adopter at a time.

More very soon.