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This bundle of fur picked me out at the local SPCA. He came out of his cubicle and climbed onto my shoulder and pretended to be a fur collar to my shirt. Needless to say my wife and I adopted him and he has been with us for almost a year. He is only 3 years old but he loves curling up on the footrest of my recliner when I am sitting there.
I am a retired film editor, and being retired means I have to fill my time. I do so with a lot of hobbies. Among my many hobbies, I am a writer. But I have cat, a beautiful Tortie named Scout who has little patience for my sitting at the computer. She wants all of my attention and is more than willing to edit my work by walking across or plunking herself down on the keyboard. Here is a verbatim sample of her work. (Hers picks up when it starts not to make sense. But I'm sure you already know that.)
"And it doesn’t help that the paper’s online presence is just another news feed sp 09imt.,c-]sdbe,a'kkkkkkkkkkkk" Like I said, a prolific typist, but a lousy editor.
When they were about 1 year old, in 2005, my husband and I adopted a brother-sister pair of Maine Coon cats from the local Humane Society. He named them perfectly: Adams and O'Keefe, after Ansel Adams and Georgia O'Keeffe (I didn't realize we'd spelled it wrong for years). O'Keefe was the Investigator, the bold one who always went right up to visitors expecting to be petted. Adams was the Shy Boy, quiet and unassuming, staying in the background. My husband died in 2006 and my two kitties were such solace. When I retired in 2011, I grew to love them more and more. Gradually, Adams came out of his shell. I give O'Keefe a Royal Brushinating daily, but it was months before Adams decided to jump up onto the Brushing Hassock and try it out. Over months, he went from allowing only a few strokes of the kitty brush to jumping right in there if O'Keefe didn't answer the call immediately. He and I grew more and more bonded as he showed more and more of his golden heart.
Then, in October 2016, he died. He was happy and healthy (his annual vet exam a couple months earlier showed him to be in the peak of health), and the next minute, literally, he was gone. The vet said it was most likely a stroke. It was such a shock, I'm still mourning Adams. I have a file on my laptop of hundreds of pictures of our cats and sometimes I just page through them to watch them all do their cat things again: napping, sitting in boxes, playing together, watching birds out the window. And then I came across this photo. I don't even remember snapping the picture. But it is the perfect portrait of Adams. Gentle, loving, calm and beautiful. It is Adams. He was an excellent little soul. I'm glad we were able to give him 11 years of love and care. And he will be in my heart forever. O'Keefe is still with me, and I treasure every moment with her.
My sweet Louie - (black and white tuxedo kitty) was adopted in June of 2010 as a fur-rend to me and a companion to Scott Joplin (black kitty). For 8 years I had Scottie's mama Lucy and before being spayed, she had given us 5 adorable kitties including Scott's brother Brahms. 3 kitties were adopted to good homes and Scott and Brahmies and Lucy and an older kitty Gussie Cat remained as a precious family. In a short period of time Brahmies disappeared one day, I lost Gussie to old age, Lucy to a sudden illness. Our hearts were broken and Scottie was alone. 3 weeks after Lucy passed away, I adopted Louie Reese in 2010. After a minor adjustment period, he and Scottie became beloved friends and he and Louie's antics make everyone laugh. Scottie tries to boss but sweet Louie stands up to him in the cutest wasy.. 8 years later, they are still together...
Cooper came to us as part of a stray cat litter eight years ago. We were able to get all of his siblings adopted, as they were lovable little fur-balls. Cooper, on the other hand, had an attitude. He would fit in the palm of your hand, and when you picked him up he would go into full on hiss and swat mode. Nobody wanted the "devil cat".
We knew if someone did take him, it might lead to a shelter life, so we decided to adopt him and give him a good home. Little did we know that over the years he would claim EVERYTHING in the house as his, including the couch and TV remote
At least his attitude has improved!
After some rough years, I wanted to have a small partner to spend time with. So I went to an adoption event at a nearby pet store. There was a little male tuxedo kitten sitting all alone. He looked up at me, and I melted. Only about 6 weeks old, he went home with me that day.
On his first day with me, I sat down to play with the little guy. He liked to play with my hair, and he also got spooked easily over absolutely nothing at all. Well, he got spooked and jumped over my head. I saw his tummy patches of white against the charcoal gray of his coat streak by, and I knew what his name was. Streak!
Streak was a real trouper. He ultimately travelled with me across country twice, travelled up and down the California coast, and moved with me to five different places over 9 years. At every place, he found himself at home. Streak taught me a lot. He was remarkably patient with me as he taught me, through trial and error, how best to treat him. He also taught me to love again. Several bad relationships had made that necessary. He was patient and kind that way, too. He knew I needed to be taught that it was possible to love again. He did that by making it easy to love him, and by loving me. We were near constant companions for 17 1/2 years. In his last summer, he was diagnosed with severe renal failure. In a relatively short amount of time, he deteriorated. Finally, that fall he let me know that it was okay to send him on his way. When he was about to be put to sleep, he touched my hand gently, as if to say, “it’s okay, Daddy.” I love you Streak. Wait for me over the Rainbow Bridge.
This is Honeys story. She was a puppy mill dog sold from a pet store to someone who didn't know what they were doing. By 2 years old she came into rescue. The mother told her girls to take the dog into the desert and tie her up. The girls went through a park and called out free dog. Someone grabbed her and brought her to Rescue a Golden of AZ in which I volunteer. She was adopted out twice and brought back quickly. So I adopted her, I told her I would never give up on her. We went through many and all behavior problems, that took years. At about 6 years old we decided to try agility. We love it! She got her first championship at 11 1/2 years old, she just got her second at 12 1/2! She is now retired but will still do classes like hoops or barrels for fun. She was the best teacher for me and I love her very much!!!
When my Mom passed last August part of my inheritance were her pets. Rosie a Japanese Chin and Sir Thomas Cat. Both were rescues.
Today with many tears I brought home Rosie’s ashes. She had been suffering from heart failure for the last few years. With the help of her vet Rosie left us.
Rosie had lived an interesting life. She had run away from home 8 times. Two boys found her and brought her to my Mom’s house asking if the little dog was hers. She took Rosie in and called the animal department. The female officer recognized Rosie right away. She told my Mom her story and my Mom said to notify her if she went up for adoption. My Mom got the call a few days later.
When they brought Rosie to her my Mom said, “That is not the right dog. The one at my house was black and brown.” They told her they had given her a bath and she was now white and tan.
Anyone that met Rosie loved her. She tended to have a one sided smile, a tail that never stopped wagging held high like a flag, and a little prance as she walked or ran.
I was very blessed to have had her with me for the last 8 months. She was 3 months short of her 16th birthday. When I knew she was failing I carried her for a last walk on the warmest day, I sat on the floor next to her and talked to her when she ate, I petted her and told her how much she was loved as she crossed over the rainbow bridge to once again be with my Mom. Please adopt senior animals it is well worth it. I miss my sweet girl.
We are very lucky to have a wonderful Humane Society and a compassionate Animal Control in our small town.
I saw Kate's picture in an email from the Humane Society. I couldn't get her of my mind.
I just knew she had to join our family. I thought she looked very similar to
my first dog who had passed many years ago he was Husky/Collie/Shepherd..
I finally filled out my application and went to meet Kate. When they brought her into the greeting room
I was shocked. She had looked so big in their photo, but she was a short, stocky girl. I took her for a
walk and she didn't seem to care about me one way or the other, but I had already fallen for her.
(I had her DNA tested, she's half Shiba Inu and half American Eskimo)
I should also say the Kate was 11 years old when I adopted her in 2014. After a few days she became
my shadow. She is wherever I am. She loves to go for rides but never gets near the windows. She
loves to destroy stuffed animal toys. And today at 15 yrs. old she is still going strong.
Remember old dogs have so much life and love to offer.
When my 17 year old calico passed away I had a hole in my heart needing to be filled. I went to the local shelter determined to save an older cat. A grey tabby named Sandy clearly chose me, but it was a little black feral, around 4 months old, who stole my heart. So both came home with me that day. We named the feral Bosco, because in sunlight his coat looked chocolate brown instead of black.
Bosco spent the first few days hiding, coming out only to eat and use the litter box. But Sandy pulled him out of his shell, becoming his "mommy." He'd curl up with her and let her groom him. It took a lot of love and TLC on my part, but over time he warmed up to me and my partner, rolling over on the floor for belly rubs. When Sandy passed we got 2 girl kitties to keep him company.
While he never became a lap cat, and didn't like to be picked up, for some reason he felt safe when we were in bed. He'd jump on the bed, purring loudly in my ear and licking my arm demanding to be petted. If I ignored him he'd head butt us, and then make biscuits in my long hair. He would walk over, and even ON, Dave's head to get in between us. He'd then go to sleep there, and stay the entire night. If one of us got up in the night to use the bathroom, Bosco would immediately slide into that person's spot, forcing us to have to move him, as if he was saying "this is MY entire bed."
3 years ago he was diagnosed with several health issues, including renal problems. So I had to give him sub-Q fluids daily, and several meds. He tolerated it, but not happily. Other than that he was still my baby boy.
Bosco crossed the Rainbow Bridge on Easter Sunday at the ripe old age of 18 1/2. My heart is broken as there will never be a boy like Bosco.