Small Acts, Big Shifts: A Story from the Road

by Gerard de Sagun

After cleaning and feeding, we loaded five rescued cats into a jeepney and headed toward New Creation Animal Clinic in La Union. It wasn’t just any jeepney—it was one lent to us at a discount by an elderly couple who run a sari-sari store and, more importantly, love animals as much as we do. Along with our feline passengers, the seats were lined with large water containers up for refill, a quiet display on how much the community received from this kind-hearted husband and wife tandem. After all, they are one of the few community stores that refuse to raise their prices too much out of respect for the meager earning power of this specific community.

We were on our way to have stray cats spayed and neutered—completely free of charge, thanks to the clinic’s outreach initiative. All we had to cover was the transport. And even that, like so many parts of this journey, came softened by kindness. The couple didn’t just offer a service—they offered support. They believed in what we were doing: a small solo-rescue project born from late-night meows, scrapes, and the quiet, relentless ache of knowing too many animals go unloved and uncared for.

As the jeepney rumbled down the highway, I found myself chatting with the driver, a soft-spoken man with sun-worn hands and an easy laugh. We talked about cats first, naturally. He mentioned one of his own, a calico who had once made a habit of curling up in the engine bay before he learned to tap the hood gently before starting the jeep. She, along with a few of his other pets, had actually been spayed through a similar outreach event hosted by the same clinic a few months back. 

He told me how grateful he’d been—not just because it spared his cats from the cycle of constant pregnancies, but because it was something he simply couldn’t have afforded otherwise. A visit to the vet wasn’t part of most people’s monthly budgets out here. “Hindi kasi lahat may pang-gastos para sa pusa,” he said plainly. And so, cats and dogs multiply. Too often, they get sick. Too often, no one knows what to do.

Then he shifted gears—literally and figuratively—and mentioned something I didn’t know: that jeepneys have a queue system. For his usual San Fernando City–Lingsat route, there was a rotation, a schedule to follow. Too many jeepneys, he said, not enough passengers on regular days. But since it was a Sunday, with schools closed and fewer commuters, he was actually earning slightly more by hiring out the jeepney for our trip, even at just 500 pesos (less than USD10).

It struck me then how layered this whole experience was. Here was someone whose livelihood relied on a system that was already stretched thin, and yet he still carved out a way to help us—and by extension, the animals we were trying to care for. Not because it was profitable. But because it mattered. Because he remembered what it meant to receive care for his own pets. Because he loved animals too.

Five cats may not seem like much, especially when there are still so many more weaving through alleyways, resting under tricycles, or mewling behind rice sacks. But every time we take even a few, something shifts. Word spreads. A neighbor peeks out from their gate and asks where we’re going. Someone who once thought stray cats were a nuisance starts leaving out a bowl of water. A pet owner who’d never considered spaying or neutering begins to ask questions—real ones, curious ones.

It’s slow work. The kind that requires patience and repeated conversations and showing up again and again with nothing more than a carrier and good intentions. But that’s how things take root in communities like ours—not through sweeping declarations, but through everyday gestures of care, passed from person to person.

New Creation Animal Clinic understands that. Their outreach efforts may only accommodate a few animals at a time, but they plant something deeper: awareness, empathy, and responsibility. And when people see a jeepney rolling by, not with passengers, but with a handful of rescued cats—groomed, fed, and finally on their way to a better future—they see what’s possible.

Maybe next time, someone else will volunteer a cat. Maybe the time after that, they’ll bring one of their own.

And slowly, five at a time, that becomes enough.

If this story reaches you—whether you're a fellow pet lover, a quiet rescuer, or simply someone who cares—know that there are ways to help, even in small steps. New Creation Animal Clinic’s upcoming mission, Compassion in Action, is happening on May 30 in Badoc, Ilocos Norte. They’ll be offering free spay and neuter services, vaccinations, vitamins, and more to those who need it most. It's not just about medical care—it’s about presence, dignity, and love for the animals who live quietly among us.

Support comes in many forms: spreading the word, donating, volunteering, or simply learning what it means to be a more compassionate guardian to the creatures in our care. These moments—five cats, one jeepney, a morning of shared effort—remind us that real change doesn’t always look big. But it feels big. And it matters.

Let’s keep showing up for them.