Top image: Zachary Tang / RICE Media
This story is part of RICE Media’s Storytellers initiative, a mentorship programme for budding content creators to learn about the art of creative non-fiction. This piece is a product of a partnership between RICE Media and Singapore Management University (SMU) for its Professional Writing module.
“Come find me in your next life; I will be your friend again,” Jiawen whispers, her voice trembling with grief as she gently caresses Bruce’s head.
The air in Rainbow Paradise’s cremation room feels heavier than usual. Bruce’s frail, lifeless body is lying on a cold metal tray. Jiawen had witnessed countless shelter animals cross the rainbow bridge, but this was different. This cat was special to her.
“He used to hiss and tremble at the back of his room whenever he saw a volunteer,” she recounts. “I spent months sitting nearby, speaking softly and letting him sniff my hand so he’d know I wasn’t a threat. The day he finally pressed his forehead into my hand, I knew he trusted me.”
Volunteers gather around the skinny tuxedo cat, covering him with soft, colourful petals—a final gesture of love for a cherished resident. As the furnace door opens, tears stream down Jiawen’s face.
Bruce’s death is one of the many cases in Singapore’s overcrowded animal shelters, where death often outpaces adoptions. Many animals—cats, dogs, and more—live out their days confined in cages, never knowing the warmth of a forever home.
Overburdened and overpopulated shelters are just a symptom of a deeper issue: a society placing diminishing value on nonhuman life.
In 2023, Singapore recorded a threefold year-on-year increase in pet abandonment cases and a 79 percent rise in animal cruelty incidents—an 11-year high. Harrowing stories dominated headlines: a domestic helper hammering a dog to death, a pet groomer’s negligence suffocating another, and the notorious Ang Mo Kio cat abuser finally being prosecuted.
These incidents reveal the darker side of progress. As Singapore prospers, the neglect and mistreatment of animals expose a society leaving its voiceless members behind.
Invisible Third-Class Residents
Singapore’s focus has always been on economic growth, urban development, and human welfare, with animals seemingly relegated as afterthoughts.
Once a literal jungle, the nation’s natural habitats have been eroded to make way for high-rises, roads, and manicured parks. This displacement forces wildlife like otters, macaques, and wild boars into human territories, sparking human-animal conflict.
Complaints of “wildlife encroaching into our living spaces” often ignore the irony: these creatures were here first. Instead of removing or relocating them, co-existence should be the goal, achieved through education and promoting proper practices.
Singapore’s ‘Garden City’ vision was never intended to foster authentic green spaces where wildlife can roam free. Pragmatism often leads to ‘efficient’ solutions with ethical blind spots.
Culling operations, strict pet policies, and the confinement of stray animals in overpopulated shelters exemplify this approach. Recent pigeon-culling efforts—using poison that causes slow, painful deaths and endangers unintended animals—shines a spotlight on the harm of these methods.
The pandemic and post-Covid lifestyle trends have also exacerbated our mistreatment of animals.
During the lockdown, a surge in pet ownership reflected a desire for companionship. But as we entered the endemic and the population returned to offices, pets were cast out like old toys. The commodification of pets exacerbates abandonment, with some owners releasing them onto the streets—a virtual death sentence—or overwhelming already stretched shelters.
Yet, despite indifference and apathy, Singapore’s animal welfare volunteers and community feeders remain beacons of compassion. But how long can their fire burn before it fades out for good?
Volatile Volunteers
“It’s like trying to fill a bucket with no bottom,” Jiawen offers, describing the endless demands of shelter work.
She and her fellow volunteers clean enclosures, groom animals, and administer medical care, but the influx of abandoned animals outpaces the rate of adoptions or deaths.
“Sometimes, owners guilt-trip us into taking their pets, even when we’re over capacity,” she added.
Resources are limited, and shelters often rely on public donations. Volunteers frequently dig into their own pockets to cover costs. But the greatest challenge is manpower. After the pandemic, Jiawen’s shelter saw a surge in abandoned animals. With fewer than ten active volunteers, they care for over 150 animals.
The physical and emotional toll of such a heavy task drives many to quit. “Some days, it’s just two of us managing everything,” Jiawen says.
Many of Singapore’s animal shelters are also situated at The Animal Lodge along Sungei Tengah Road, which is highly inaccessible by public transport and far from residential areas.
“New volunteers often don’t realise how inaccessible it is. Without a car, you need serious willpower to come back week after week,” she explains. The Animal Lodge, with its drab concrete buildings, houses thousands of animals in isolation. It reflects Singapore’s “out of sight, out of mind” approach to animal welfare, Jiawen comments.
Despite these challenges, Jiawen and her team persist. Many volunteers in her team have grown attached to the animals and feel a strong sense of responsibility to provide as much care and love as possible.
“We’re all they have. If we don’t do it, who will?”
The Cost of Compassion
Community cat feeders like Michele face similar struggles. For nearly a decade, she’s fed, rescued, and rehomed strays, enduring heartbreak at every turn.
“I want to kill the abusers, but I can’t,” she says quietly, her voice heavy with frustration. Stories of animal abuse keep her awake at night.
“We work so hard to keep these cats safe, and then someone takes it all away. I can’t imagine how the cats must have felt in their final moments. Living on the streets is hard enough.”
Michele’s dedication borders on the obsessive. She’s not a morning person, but she rises before dawn to clean up after stray cats and dogs, ensuring they aren’t blamed for messes.
Yet her efforts often feel futile in a society where animals are seen as nuisances. The dedication and resolve needed to do this consecutively and daily for a decade are almost unfathomable.
The increased stray cat population has placed enormous financial pressure on Michele. The cat food that used only to cost her S$100 to $200 monthly has ballooned to over S$2,000 these days. This, coupled with the rising costs of cat food, transportation, animal boarding and vet fees, has placed her in debt.
“I’ll tell you, all rescuers are in debt; not one is not struggling financially.”
Many of Michele’s friends send her money to help alleviate her financial woes, but she rarely accepts their donations.
“I tell them, no, no, no! It’s a loan. I will pay you back.” She feels guilty about having others help carry the financial burden of caring for Singapore’s stray cats and does not wish to impose this on anyone else.
Michele has had to make many lifestyle changes and sacrifices to sustain her community cat feeding schedule. With each feeding session taking four to five hours, much of her day is spent feeding community cats.
She no longer works full-time, opting for more flexible, part-time jobs. She also finds balancing family time with her feeding schedule challenging, saying she is frequently late or has to leave early for family events.
“Yeah, it’s challenging… But I believe all of us cat feeders and rescuers do it with a cheerful heart.”
The Case for a More Humane Singapore
In Singapore, volunteers and feeders work relentlessly to care for stray animals—beings many dismiss as insignificant. Why prioritise animals when human issues remain unresolved?
This question reflects a belief in human exceptionalism: the idea that our needs always come first. It justifies cruelty, framing animals as expendable.
In a nation built on economic pragmatism, this logic thrives. Singapore’s success is tied to its people as its only resource; animals, seen as non-contributors, are relegated to the margins.
But this burden shouldn’t rest on a handful of volunteers. A truly progressive society doesn’t measure compassion by convenience. How we treat animals mirrors our values. Kindness isn’t a distraction—it strengthens who we are.
The solution starts with leadership—Member of Parliament Louis Ng has pushed for harsher, swifter penalties against animal cruelty. Progress will only come when authorities take the lead and set a new standard for compassion.
“Animal life is so cheap here. I hope the Singapore government can wake up. Animals (are) also alive; we must respect all living things and value their lives!” Michele affirms.
When strays and wildlife are often viewed as pests, public attitudes also need a reset. Education—whether through schools or public campaigns—can instil empathy and normalise coexistence with native wildlife.
Jiawen believes using social media to promote volunteerism and animal welfare will encourage more animal lovers to step forward. She feels that working together and having one voice as a community will be far more effective in promoting positive change.
Michele echoes this belief, pointing to the repeal of Section 377A as a testament to what a united community can achieve. “We must show that we are strong and will not give up.”
Ultimately, this isn’t just about animal welfare; it’s about the society we want to build. As Gandhi said, “The measure of a civilisation is how it treats its weakest members.” If Singapore can lead in innovation and efficiency, it can lead in humanity too.
Michele puts it best: “Kindness costs zero dollars, correct?”
