I first started working with Woodlands in spring 2024. I'd recently become self-employed after 25 years in digital marketing and operations, having been made redundant. I'd known Vickie for several years, as we had worked together beforehand, and when she asked if I'd help set up a new database, I jumped at the chance. Not just to work with her again, but rather finally to do something with real - world impact after years of corporate work.

How little I understood then how much it would change my outlook on society and welfare.

My business was only a few months old with a handful of clients, so I told Vickie that any spare hours I had would be given voluntarily to the sanctuary. There was so much to be done with such a brilliant but small team facing mountains of challenges. I was more than happy to help however I could.

Soon I began seeing sanctuary life beyond the data, systems, and websites; beyond the nerdy stuff I was essentially there for.

I'll be honest: despite being an animal lover, my reaction to the usual rescue stories wheeled out on TV generally ranged from "oh, that's sad" to "ah, how cute", nothing much before, in between, or after. Still, the more I saw of Woodlands, the more my standpoint shifted to "why does this happen?", "what can we do to stop it?", and "how can I help?". Attending the Association of Cats and Dogs Homes conference that year only strengthened this combination of frustration and resolve.

I think it was during conference one evening when Vickie leant over and said: "Just wait until you get the first case that really sticks with you."

I didn't know what she meant, my role wasn't even hands-on in terms of rescuing and rehabilitating animals, yet the comment had indeed intrigued me .

It wasn't long afterwards that the team got called out to a factory belonging to a large, well - known company. Two kittens had been found, days old, starving and on the brink of death. Abandoned by their mother, covered in grease and grime.

The rescue team sent me pictures to upload onto the website.

When I saw those first images, it broke my heart. Two defenceless little kittens with matted fur, barely enough energy to hold their own heads up, though trying their hardest to lean into each other for reassurance. Stretching out a paw for familiar comfort in this strange new place.

I wasn't what you'd call a cat person (we have a pet tortoise), but their story spoke to me as if they were my own children.

This was also the first time I'd see what truly goes into rescue and rehabilitation at Woodlands. After emergency syringe feeds to rehydrate them, the kittens were carefully cleaned and checked before being given tailor made, round-the-clock observation and feeding. I watched this dedication unfold with amazement over the next few days as the kittens gradually gained strength.

Their chances shifting from unlikely survival to touch-and-go, then finally to great relief once they were out of immediate danger. Out of danger but not out of Woodlands, well not just yet.

The focus then shifted towards care and socialisation so they could discover what being kittens actually entails. Their sibling bond remained as strong as ever as they learned to play and chase, growing in character and strength with each passing day.

Just before they were rehomed, the kittens, now called Fred and Wilma, were photographed as close as ever, forming a heart-shaped cuddle. As devoted and reliant on each other's bond as the day they were found. No pose could ever be as fitting for the two.

To me, this story went beyond abandonment and rescue. It was the story of a caring public who provide the much-needed funds to ensure animals get the treatment they required. Likewise, veterinary staff who identified the urgent steps needed in those early hours. Of fosterers and volunteers who helped feed, clean, and socialise them to leave behind their trauma. Of the rehoming team who found them a beautiful family to spend their lives with.

It was the story of what makes Woodlands and what we do.

Suffice to say, Fred and Wilma stirred something in this old dinosaur. On reflection, I think I saw a reflection of my own recent challenges in their story. Before I began working with Woodlands, I'd also been in a big corporate world. Then redundancy stuck with its inevitable sense of being abandoned to fend for myself and my loved ones.

Like Fred and Wilma, Woodlands had become my salvation, one of a small few to give me a chance, helping me find myself and endowing me with a sense of purpose.

To this day, 18 months on, despite the various financial challenges of rescue life, the fundraising projects and curveballs like appearing on BBC Breakfast or launching our first ,ever shop in just two weeks, and out of the hundreds of rescue stories we've covered, Fred and Wilma's is the one that sticks with me.

Whenever things look tough, and they often do, either from a charity funds perspective or the sadness of a particular rescue, their story reminds me how the many all pull together to give a second chance to animals whose future rests in the hands of fate.

It’s kind of my own star of Bethlehem when things look lost and we’re in need of purpose. As Vickie said, ‘wait until you find the case that really sticks with you’. She wasn’t joking!