Trusting Your Intuition: When the Right Decision Doesn’t Look Good on Paper
Meet Bear, my 13-year-young senior Ragdoll mix that I adopted from the Animal Humane Society, surrendered after his human passed away. I wanted to share his story because it was so... fated. I had just quit my corporate job. No backup plan, no next chapter mapped out. Just the certainty that I couldn’t stay another day, and the particular kind of quiet that fills a house when you’ve finally done the thing you were afraid to do.
Let me back up.
Like some of you who have had to say goodbye, after I lost my Charlie, a sassy chunky Sphynx, I swore off pets forever. But when the house started to feel empty, I got the itch again. After some contemplation my logic became clear: I couldn’t make a 15-20 year commitment, but I could commit to a few years. I landed on the idea of adopting a senior kitty. Bear is my second senior baby using this new logic.
I remember scrolling through profiles on the Animal Humane Society website late one night when I came across Bear (those eyes!). I had just decided to leave my corporate job, so money was top of mind. I wondered if adopting was prudent; if taking on a new expense was wise. We've all been there - should I, shouldn't I? Yada yada. So I threw it up to the universe and asked for a sign. The next morning, I called a cat whisperer friend to take a ride with me.
The Sign I Asked For
When we arrived at the shelter, the place was nearly empty. Just us and one other woman. After a few minutes, she approached me and asked if I was adopting a cat. I said yes. She asked if I was adopting the senior cat. Again, yes.
She then asked if she could pay for the adoption in full.
Say what now?
When I asked why, she explained that this day was the one-year anniversary of her mother’s passing. Her mother, Diane, had always adopted senior cats from this same location. She was there to honor her mother’s memory by paying for someone else’s adoption.
We both got choked up. I accepted because I wanted to be a part of honoring her mother. I also saw it as a pretty clear and loud response to my request for a sign. Synchronicity at its finest.
Bear and I recently celebrated our Gotcha Day and remembered a woman named Diane, whose daughter continues her legacy and love for animals.
What Bear Taught Me About Trusting Your Intuition
Adopting a senior pet is not for the weak. The timeline is short; you have to be comfortable with the circle of life. It sucks. It hurts. It’s also one of the great privileges of life: to be present for those last moments.
The costs are real, too. Like us, senior pets have particular needs. Vet visits, medications and supplements, prescription foods, accessibility tools, and pet insurance (read the fine print!) all add up. If you like to travel, older pets may not handle out-of-home kenneling well.
And the more set in their ways they are, the more you’ll be tested. Remember: it’s not about you, it’s about them.
What you get in return: lower cortisol, higher oxytocin, lower blood pressure, companionship that doesn’t ask much of you and gives more than you planned for.
Bear has taught me beautiful lessons in patience and presence this past year, while offering an even greater invitation to practice empathy, compassion, and meeting another being where they are. None of that showed up in any spreadsheet.
People say adopting a senior pet is doing the animal a favor. I don’t see it that way. I’ve gotten far more out of this than Bear has. I learn new things about myself each time I do this.
What this experience has taught me about decisions that matter: Sometimes the "right" choice isn’t the one that looks best on paper. Sometimes it’s the one you make with eyes wide open about the realities, and room for something you can’t quite quantify: intuition, timing, signs from the universe, whatever you want to call it.
I follow an informed, intuitive approach. I check in with my body to see what it's telling me. I validate my gut with research. I run the numbers. I look at the actual costs, not the imagined ones. I examine my relationship with money so that my decisions align with my values, even when those decisions break from convention or challenge the "should". Adopting Bear was one of those decisions for me. The budget was tight. The timeline was uncertain. The practical concerns were real. And so was the feeling that this was exactly what I was supposed to do.
The best decisions, whether about money, careers, relationships, or senior cats, require us to honor both the spreadsheet and what the spreadsheet can’t capture. To trust ourselves while planning thoughtfully, in that order. To define “smart” on our own terms. It only needs to make sense to you.
If you have a big decision weighing on your mind or have tips on managing Ragdoll hair (seriously, I’ll take them), reach out. Bear and I would love to hear from you.
