08/28/2026
The part of rescue work you don’t see.
I think one of the hardest things about running a rescue is how much of what we do is completely invisible.
People see the rabbits. They see the adoption posts, the happy endings and the animals who finally have somewhere safe to go.
They don’t see what it takes to get there.
They don’t see the hours of messages, phone calls, scheduling, veterinary coordination, foster arrangements, transportation, problem-solving and constantly trying to fit more animals into a rescue that is already full.
They don’t see the decisions being made at midnight, the early mornings, the ferry trips, the gas, the missed family time or the mental exhaustion of constantly trying to make everything work.
And yesterday was a particularly hard reminder of that.
Months ago, we were contacted by someone who found a rabbit that had suffered such severe injuries that she ultimately had to be euthanized. It was later discovered she had babies.
They asked us for help keeping the surviving babies stable while they waited for intake.
We agreed to help.
Because we didn’t have the capacity to take the entire litter, we offered to take two of the four babies while helping them navigate the rest.
For months, we answered messages, sometimes at 2 AM. We provided guidance, helped care for the kits, rearranged schedules and eventually committed to taking the two boys into our Rescue.
That meant finding a foster, making space and prioritizing their neuters despite having 20 rabbits already waiting ahead of them.
We did all of that because we had made a commitment.
Then yesterday, after their surgery, we were told they had changed their mind and wanted the rabbits back.
So we cancelled the intake, rearranged everything again and coordinated a meeting to return the rabbits.
And somehow, even after all of that, the conversation turned into questioning why I even do rescue and making the entire situation somehow our fault.
That part is hard to explain.
Because as a rescue, there seems to be an expectation that we should just absorb everything.
People can waste our time. Change their minds. Disrupt our schedules. Use our resources. Say hurtful things.
And if we become frustrated or defend ourselves, suddenly we are “miserable,” “burnt out,” or told maybe we should quit.
How is that reasonable?
We are human beings.
We are allowed to be frustrated.
We are allowed to be exhausted.
We are allowed to say that our time and resources matter.
We are allowed to be upset when months of work are undone in a phone call.
Yesterday, after everything I had already put into this situation over the past month, I went home feeling absolutely awful about myself.
I cried.
I questioned myself.
And then I woke up today and got up again—because the rabbits still need us.
That is the part people don’t see.
There is no salary waiting for us. No overtime. No clock to punch.
Just people giving their time, money, energy, evenings, weekends and sometimes pieces of themselves because these animals matter.
But our capacity is finite.
Our time is a resource.
Our volunteers are a resource.
Our foster homes are a resource.
Our money is a resource.
Our energy is a resource.
When those resources are wasted, they are taken away from another rabbit who actually needs them.
We will always try to help.
But please remember that behind every rescue email is a person. Behind every intake plan are hours of work. Behind every foster placement is someone opening their home.
We don’t need praise.
We just need people to remember that the people behind rescue are human, too.
