A Warm Retirement for Feline Friends
Bruce and Terry Jenkins, both 80 years old and residing in Tampa, Florida, have created a comforting oasis for senior cats, allowing them to enjoy their final years in peace.
Through their non-profit, the Cat’s Cradle Foundation, this is more than just a shelter; it’s a safe haven where cats can relax, be loved, and truly live.
“We want people to come here to live, not just wait for the end,” Terry shared. “They know they’re safe. They know they’re loved.”
Their journey began in 2014, sparked by an unexpected moment at a veterinary clinic. Terry was picking up medication for her dog when she met a woman who was considering euthanizing her late mother’s cat.
“She asked me to take her cat,” Terry remembered. “I couldn’t say no.”
That encounter marked the start of their mission. As their children grew up and moved out, they transformed their one-acre backyard—once a playground—into a paradise for cats, complete with a rope bridge, cozy little houses, toys, climbing platforms, and plenty of spots for naps.
Many of the cats they care for were saved from shelters where they faced euthanasia, while others were referred by vets who couldn’t bear to put down healthy older animals.
Those in the know appreciate the second chance the couple provides.
But it goes beyond just feeding them and giving them space.
“They want love and they need love,” said Terry, a retired office assistant from the New York Yankees. “These older cats often come from backgrounds filled with affection only to lose everything.”
“They lost their owners, and their world turned upside down.”
The couple, both former IBM executives, estimate the sanctuary costs around $27,000 annually, which includes hundreds of pounds of food each month.
A visiting veterinarian takes care of vaccinations, tests, and medications for the cats.
Initially, they covered the expenses on their own—Bruce joked about not needing a 401K—but now they rely on donations from caring supporters to sustain their efforts.
To keep things manageable, they limit the number of cats to about 30. Newcomers, at least 10 years old, might find the environment a bit noisy at first, but soon enough, it feels like home.
It appears older cats lack the energy for drama. They seem to favor naps over any type of squabble.
“They’re past all that,” Terry chuckled. “They just want peace.”
The premises are securely fenced, not to keep the cats in but to block any small animals from entering since these seniors have no desire to escape.
The residents dine together twice daily, sharing space and surprisingly coexisting quite harmoniously.
When it’s time for their final rest, they are gently moved to a quiet hospice room, surrounded by compassion and tranquility.
After they pass, the cats are cremated and remembered in a “butterfly garden” with a plaque honoring their lives—a gentle reminder of the joy they brought.
“They’re getting older, and we’re getting older,” Terry reflected. “We understand each other. We are in this together.”
