Between Good Intentions and Rigid Systems

Dumped Domestic Rabbits

I didn’t expect to walk away from helping a rabbit rescue feeling this frustrated.

I live nearby, and when I saw a Facebook post about abandoned domestic rabbits, I didn’t hesitate. It was around 9 PM, the start of a thunderstorm, and I geared up and started walking their way with food just to see if I could spot them. Brian said absolutely not, we are not going outside looking for rabbits in the dark/storm. But when we arrived, and he saw the little stinkers, he was the first to grab some food and try to approach them.

I commented on the Facebook post right away, offering to help. I said I could assist with catching them, provide foster if secured, and that I’d be back over the next few days with cages, x-pens, whatever was needed to actually get them to safety. I even took a day off from work so I could keep popping back over.

That post ended up connecting me with a rabbit rescue that wanted to organize a team in London. From there, everything continued. Over the next few days, I kept showing up. I walked through brush, in the rain and rough weather, for hours. I came back again and again. By the end, I have bruises, scratches, and sore legs that are making me realize just how out of shape I am (to be fair, I was quite literally running through brush, climbing over and ducking under various logs).

To the couple who also spent hours out there with nets and a live trap, and who also offered the rabbits a permanent home if caught - thank you. I appreciated having people there who were fully committed to doing whatever it took to get the rabbits safely rescued.

The Capture and the Shift in Tone

When one of the rabbits was finally caught, I thought the hard part was over. I offered to foster. I offered to cover vet care. I work in veterinary medicine. I have experience. I have the setup. I was ready to take responsibility immediately. The only response I received from the rescue was a link to their foster application. There was no acknowledgment of the effort. No “thank you.” No conversation. No curiosity about who I was or what I could offer. Just a form. And that’s where something didn’t sit right with me.

I understand that rescues have protocols. I understand why screening exists. Animals need protection, and not every well-meaning person is prepared for the reality of long-term care. Systems exist for a reason.

And I also want to be honest with myself here: sure, I could have responded with a clarifying message or gone ahead and filled out the form. That was still an option. But the issue for me wasn’t just the existence of a process... it was the tone and the disconnect. I had just said, in plain terms, that I could immediately provide a free foster home with covered veterinary care for a rabbit that had just been caught after days of effort from multiple people. And the only response to that was essentially, “Here’s a Google form.” That lack of acknowledgment is what landed poorly.

Adding to that, in a group message afterward, several people who had helped were tagged and thanked, but I wasn’t included in that acknowledgment. My efforts were certainly overlooked, and that felt discouraging and honestly, disappointing.

I also experienced firsthand how rigid these systems can become, and how they can push away the very people trying to help.

I felt like I was good enough to be an extra set of eyes. Good enough to spend hours physically helping. Good enough to be part of a group effort when it was needed most. But when it came time to actually step up and provide care, suddenly I was just another name on a form. That disconnect is hard to ignore.

I don’t think the issue is that rescues have requirements. The issue, from my perspective, is when those requirements are applied without flexibility or awareness of the situation in front of them. When no distinction is made between a complete stranger and someone who has already demonstrated commitment, experience, and capability.

Both Rabbits Are Safe

Since then, there has been an update: the second rabbit has now been caught as well, and the pair are bonded. That means they will need to stay together moving forward, which adds another layer of responsibility for the rescue in terms of placement, foster care, and ongoing vet funding.

Looking at this outcome in hindsight, I can’t help but reflect on the moment when that first rabbit was secured. At that point, I had already spent days on-site helping with the search and capture efforts, and I had clearly offered to step in immediately as a foster with veterinary care covered. Instead, the only response I received was a link to a general foster application.

With where things are now, two bonded rabbits needing coordinated foster placement and funded medical care, it’s hard not to wonder whether a more direct, situational response in that moment might have changed how smoothly the next steps came together. After four days on the ground and a “here’s a Google form” response, Forest City Rats is now unavailable to assist with this rescue moving forward.

No Barriers at FCR

This is something I’ve thought about deeply through my own work with Forest City Rats. At FCR, my entire approach has been built around reducing barriers, not responsibility. I don’t require applications. I don’t create red tape. That doesn’t mean I’m handing out rats for free or placing them carelessly. It means I’ve made myself approachable.

Instead of filtering people through long forms, I’ve structured things differently. My rats are priced appropriately to discourage impulsive decisions and feeder purchases. The people who reach out are typically serious, prepared, and willing to invest in proper care.

For my Second Chance Program, I plan to keep that same philosophy. I’m not against all forms of verification; I do require vet references or personal references for adopters. But that’s simply to confirm that someone is who they say they are, not to put them through a drawn-out, gatekeeping process. I will never require someone to fill out a lengthy application that feels more like a quiz than a conversation.

Because to me, there’s a difference between protecting animals and creating unnecessary barriers.

Rescues Are Full

I also couldn’t ignore what I saw around me. Rescues are overwhelmed. They’re asking for help, for fosters, for donations. They’re stretched thin. And yet, in moments where help is right in front of them, real, immediate, capable help, it can feel like barriers go up instead of doors opening.

Most of all, I think there needs to be better acknowledgment of the people on the ground. The ones showing up in bad weather. The ones putting in hours of effort with no guarantee of outcome. The ones who care enough to keep coming back.

A simple “thank you” would have gone a long way. My efforts were certainly overlooked, and that’s what stayed with me most.

This experience didn’t change how I feel about helping animals. If anything, it reinforced it. But it did change how I view some parts of rescue culture. It made me realize that structure without flexibility can push good people away, and that appreciation isn’t just nice to have, it’s necessary.

I still believe in rescue work. I just think it can be better than this.

Protecting My Peace

So for now, I’ll continue being Haley at Forest City Rats. I love animals. I love people. And I’ll continue to work independently, building things in a way that aligns with how I believe care, trust, and access should work. I will always treat others how I wish to be treated.

As I continue to protect my peace, I’ll keep focusing on the spaces where collaboration feels respectful, communication is open, and the work actually reflects the care behind it.