Every morning, before anything else, Lisa Hill goes to the quarantine room.
These are the new arrivals: cats who just got here, who don’t know yet where they are or what comes next. Lisa checks on each one. “Hi, new friends,” she says.
It’s a small gesture, but it says something about how New Beginnings Animal Rescue works. Nobody here is in a hurry. Nobody’s on a clock. And nobody — cat or human — is turned away for being a little difficult to love.
Inside NBAR, as it’s known, there are no cages. Two free-roam rooms let cats move, climb, choose their own company, and decide at their own pace whether the humans coming through are worth their time. A quieter condo room serves cats who find the open space overwhelming. The whole operation runs on volunteers, donations, and (as the website cheerfully notes) cat hair. There’s no paid staff.
And here’s the part that surprises most people: you don’t need an appointment to walk in. You don’t even need to be looking to adopt. You can simply come in during open hours, find a bench, and let a cat decide whether you’re interesting.
Adults come in after brutal days at work and decompress in a pile of purring cats. Kids learn to be gentle with something smaller than themselves, to read another creature’s moods, to offer care without being asked. The cats, meanwhile, get socialized by a steady stream of people of all ages and temperaments — which makes them better prepared for whatever home eventually claims them.
Lisa and co-founder Jennifer Fritz have watched the place build community. A man came in once carrying his late cat’s belongings to donate. Lisa asked if he wanted to spend some time with the cats. He said no. She said sometimes it helps. He sat down — and has never really left. He visits at least once a week, and he’s adopted three cats since.
“I think a lot of us in the animal world are a bit socially awkward,” Jen says. “We’d rather spend time with pets than people. Taking that first step into a strange place with strange people is a lot. But I’m so grateful to everyone who finds that bravery.”
During the 2010 recession, Lisa and Jen saw families come into the city shelter to surrender pets they could no longer afford to feed. So they started NBAR as a pet food pantry. Foster volunteers came next, then adoption events, then the building with the black door on Rochester Road.
Lisa’s the self-declared dreamer of the duo. “I’m always like, ‘there’s the star and we’re going for it,’” she says. Jen’s the logical one, the keeper of the foster manual and the spreadsheets. “Being here… it’s just good for my soul,” Jen says.
Of course, some visitors do fall hard enough to take one home. And that's where Lisa's other specialty kicks in: matchmaking. “When people come in wanting a cat, the first thing I say is: ‘what are you looking for?’ Because it’s kind of like a dating service.”
Every cat moves at its own pace. Some take a month to let anyone touch them. One is currently back in the quiet room after ten years in a home, returned because the family’s new baby is allergic. “She doesn’t know where her family is, what’s going on,” Lisa says. “So she’s just back there, pissed off and chilling.” After three weeks, she finally let Lisa touch her.
NBAR has a forever return policy: no matter the circumstances, they take cats back. “Life happens,” Lisa says. “We understand.”
There are also the long-term residents, like Tum Tum. He was with them for three years. He’d let you pet him, briefly, and then he’d let you know you’d gone too far. Nobody could figure out what to do with him: he’d lived indoors his whole life and wouldn’t survive outside.
Then a man walked in from a Berkley retirement community and announced, “I’m a cranky son of a gun, and I want a cranky son of a gun cat.” Lisa introduced them and stepped out. The man returned shortly, asking for a band-aid. Lisa offered to show him some nicer cats. He wanted Tum Tum. Lisa refused to charge him anything; she was just relieved Tum Tum had found a home.
A week later, the man came back, put twenty dollars on the counter, and wouldn’t take no for an answer. “We had a bit of a disagreement,” he reported, “but we worked it out. He’s sleeping in my bed.”
“There’s a cat out there for everyone,” Jen says. “It’s not hyperbole or cliché. We see it.”
So whether you’re having a hard day, or you just feel called: walk into that building with the black door on Rochester Road. You’ll feel better.
And you just might make a new friend.
New Beginnings Animal Rescue is at 2502 Rochester Road in Royal Oak. Open Wednesdays and Thursdays from 4 to 6 PM, and Saturdays and Sundays from noon to 2 PM. The Pet Food Pantry runs Sundays from noon to 2 PM. To adopt, foster, volunteer, or donate, visit nbarmichigan.org or call 248-543-4070
“…it’s kind of like a dating service. There’s a cat out there for everyone. It’s not hyperbole or cliché. We see it.”