A card, handed to you by someone who knows you.
Someone handed you this. That's the whole idea.
Look at the cats. Sign the card's guest book so it remembers where it's been. Then give the card to somebody else — especially if you're not looking for a cat yourself. Passing it on is the help.
I foster cats. When it's time to find one a permanent home, the usual move is to post online — a listing, some photos, a form. That works, more or less. It also means whoever adopts is a stranger who found a stranger, and the only thing connecting us is a website.
A card moves differently. It only travels if a person decides to hand it to another person. So by the time it reaches whoever adopts, it has passed through people who actually know each other. That chain isn't decoration. It's the safeguard — someone vouched, at least a little, at every step.
It's slower, and it reaches far fewer people. I think that's fine. I'm not trying to reach everybody. I'm trying to reach the right few, and in my experience they're one or two conversations away from someone I already know.
Each cat has a page: what they eat, what they're like, what sends them under the bed, and a quantity of unremarkable video of them being cats. The page keeps going after they're adopted — whoever takes them can carry on posting if they'd like to. I like knowing how they turn out, and so does everyone who met them on the way.
There's no account to make, no mailing list, and nothing tracking you. The guest book asks for a name and roughly where you are; both can be as vague as you like, and I read every one before it appears anywhere. If you want to ask about a cat, there's a form, and it comes straight to me. I'd rather have a conversation than run you through a screening process.