Tabby’s Place: Where Unwanted Cats are Most Loved

April 23, 2008

RINGOES, N.J. -- It’s where cats’ apparently hopeless endings on death row become hopeful futures in a feline paradise.

At Tabby’s Place, 99-percent of the cats are rescued from being put to sleep at other shelters, which refer cats to the facility. Tabby's Place provides a rare combination of adoption center, medical facility and Hospice for terminal cats, all manned by volunteers.

“We certainly have, for the most part, the most unwanted cats,” said Jonathan Rosenberg, founder of Tabby’s Place. “In the sense that they were pretty much all on the euthanasia list at shelters. Which is about as hopeless as it gets.”

In its five years of existence, Tabby’s Place has adopted about 450 cats, many aging, sick, diseased or handicapped. Those unclaimed live full, happy lives here, despite their shortcomings. We met a very spry 19-year-old, named Hillary, who jumped from an office desk to the floor and back, more closely resembling a far younger cat.

A cutie named Bellis, born with non-functional eyes, was nonetheless cuddling with a volunteer. No cats are more unwanted, yet none are more loved than at Tabby’s Place. The facility is spacious, immaculate, and cat-friendly throughout.

“When you come in and look, everything looks really nice,” Rosenberg said during our recent tour. “You see almost all the cats, there’s nothing hidden or nasty. And where the cats live, a lot of specialized materials and ventilation, to minimize diseases and smells.

“I mean, if you go back in those rooms, they almost never smell despite being filled with cats.”

If this sounds like a special cat shelter, well it is -- sort of. Actually, though, it’s called a cat sanctuary.

“Well, the purpose of calling it a sanctuary is that we figured this is a place of refuge for cats,” Rosenberg said. “So we don’t turn cats away due to age, or almost any disease. And if a cat doesn’t get adopted, they can spend their life here.”

Tabby’s Place is a cat palace. Rather than cages, suites are the norm, viewable through glass in the lobby. Instead of mere index cards listing each cats’ name, as at most shelters, cards with color photos of each cat identify those in a particular suite.

The suites have plenty of cat furniture for lounging, featuring high points for climbing, cubby holes for hiding, and blankets for warming.

A long hallway has a line of suites on one side and a row of corresponding, enclosed outdoor patios across the hall, one patio across from each suite. Cats can go back and forth at their discretion, traveling through a tube that extends across the top of the hallway, connecting each suite to its patio.

“The tubes are clear, so we can see what’s going on in them,” Rosenberg said, as a cat lounged inside one such tube, preferring to be neither indoors nor out, but somewhere in between. “And they also have an access door because some cats like to hide in there, especially come pill time,” Rosenberg joked.

During our visit, several cats were relaxing outdoors, enjoying a sunny, mild day on the patios. Among them was Dusty, whose gray fur was largely shaven off when his cancer recently returned.

The patios are enclosed by transparent Plexiglass, providing cats both security and a scenic view of a spacious rear yard, part of which houses a cat cemetery.

Rosenberg and his wife, Sharon, founded this facility with their own money, honoring their late cat, Tabby. He died of cancer at age 15 in 1999. Grants have since helped, but now most funding here comes from donations.

Tabby’s death caused Rosenberg to examine his life and priorities, he says. He pictured himself on his death bed, imagining what he’d want to do in life that he hadn’t already.

“I thought, you know, if I don’t do something for unwanted cats, I would really feel sorry lying there on my deathbed,” he said. “So I did this in Tabby’s honor.”

Tabby’s Place is typically maxed out at 100 cats. As Rosenberg moves from room to room, he calls out the names of various cats, amazingly appearing to know each one’s name off-hand.

The only cats not accepted here are those that are FIV positive, have feline leukemia, or are uncontrollably aggressive. Some take medication to control their behavior, such as one that’s on -- believe it or not -- Proxac.

An expansion is planned, including a new building. That’s further proof that Tabby’s Place is doing its job of honoring its namesake.

“Someone said they could picture Tabby up in heaven, looking down, saying, ‘That’s my people. I’m proud of them,’ ” Rosenberg said. “And I can see that.”

Tell us what you think about “Tabby’s Place: Where Even The Most Unwanted Cats Are Most Loved” below, and be sure to watch the video of this story at the top of your page. Share your favorite videos by clicking on the ZootooTV tab. Send us your story ideas by e-mailing us at news@zootoo.com or by calling us at 877-777-4204.