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My father passed away in December, and I missed him so much. In March next year, I found a small fur ball in carton box, cold and alone. I took her home, and my mother couldn’t say no to my request. She agreed for me to have a small dog that doesn’t shred. Well, this was a big dog with long fur all around the house. Nut was my comfort, my reason go out, my joy. She lowed water, see, lakes, just to swim. She run away from me just to come back, half an hour later, completely wet after a good swim in the sea. If there was no water nearby, she didn’t need the leash to be by my leg. She loved my nieces, and other dogs, but loved to be by my side, especially when I wasn’t feeling well. They had to put her on the leas to take her out of my bed. We battled tumors for six years, and she was brave and courageous. Her last year, she hardly walked, but in water she was healthy, young and happy dog. I still miss her, but I keep all the joy and unconditional love she gave me and memories of her swimming.
One Sunday on the way home from church I noticed a cat and some kittens at an unoccupied house. My plan was to trap them & find homes for them. We were easily able to trap Tori & snatch up her 2 kittens, but upon closer inspection, we realized that someone was feeding multiple strays at this house. It turned out that the former next door neighbor had been returning to feed the strays, but had no idea how to handle all the ferals that were breeding there! After some investigating, I was able to leave a note & got the person to call me. We eventually trapped about 19-20 cats and either released them or found homes for them. After a few months, the owner of the house decided to move back in and didn't want the remaining 2 cats there. Now our task was to get these last 2 cats--a long-haired tortie girl with a necrotic right rear leg & an orange tabby male both of whom we had already trapped, neutered & released. Finally, we were able to get them. We took the tortie to the vet for leg amputation and the male we set up in a cage in our garage. The plan was to release them near our house & continue to care for them. We already had multiple cats inside & didn't need more. We released them on Saturday morning & didn't see the tortie, Missy again until Sunday night. She had figured it out & had decided to stay. The male, Mel had apparently left the area although we did see him a couple of more times (He actually finally made his way back to the original house & I occasionally see him there.). Missy has become our "deck cat" and is a little love bug. She loves to be held, brushed & petted. Apparently, she is very appreciative of our saving her. We can't image how she would have survived in the condition she was in.
When I was in middle school, we lost our tabby to kidney failure. We got him when I was three, so it was devastating, especially since we had lost our tuxedo three years before. I begged my parents for another cat, so about a year later, we started going around to various shelters. We came across Garnet, a very scared little tuxedo at a no-kill shelter. She was in a room with adult cats, and was not doing well there. Unconvinced that she was a good fit for our family, my mom said no. It was President's Day weekend, and the shelter was doing a special adoption event at Pet Smart. I begged my mom to visit her there the following Monday, and when she was in her own enclosure, we were able to see how sweet she was and that she liked to be held. We got her, knowing she would be a lot of work. After signing the adoption papers, we found out we were the second owners, that she was brought back for not "warming up".
She was terrified when we got her home and would shrink back whenever we walked by. We would give her attention when she was calm, but for the most part, let her come to us. We've no idea what she went through at her previous home, but it wasn't good.
Garnet, now called Belle, did eventually warm up to us. She loves to be held and cuddled. She is definitely a lap cat, although with me, she'd rather be on my face than on my lap. She also likes to sleep pressed up against me at night, and we cuddle in the morning. She's extremely healthy and likes to play and run around the house, in spite of being eight years old. I cannot describe with words what a bond she and I share. She's been my buddy for years, from middle school to college, and will probably move out with me. Oh, and like her namesake, she's a princess. At least she thinks so.
I grew up with cats, but hadn't had one since I moved out of my childhood home. Once I settled down in a home of my own, I knew it was time to bring a kitty back into my life. My father called me because he knew a breeder near him who had become ill and needed to find homes for her cats. I drove 5 hours to my dad’s house when I heard about Amy.
When I first met Amy, she shared an outdoor dog crate with a male cat who relentlessly attacked her. She was four years old - a small, beautiful, blue-eyed Balinese. I took her out of the crate and she seemed relieved, like she knew I was there to help her. I fell instantly in love. That night, Amy slept with me, and the next morning spent the next 5 hours in my lap as we drove home.
The second day Amy ran around the house with joyous abandon. Having never been let out of her cage, her back legs were slightly twisted. She was overjoyed with her new found freedom. A couple weeks later, I came home to Amy screaming and panting. I called the emergency vet line and spent the entire night on the bathroom floor with her while she miscarried her kittens. We survived the night and were inseparable from that day on.
Amy was the most loving and playful cat I had ever had. Whenever she had an audience she used to put on little shows for us by throwing her toys and chasing after them. She developed quite the personality. She was my constant companion, and I made sure she never again saw the inside of a cage. I was fortunate enough to have her in my life for 12 years, and although she’s no longer with me, she still lives in my heart and I miss her everyday. Amy was with me through many difficult times. I know I rescued her, but she rescued me many times in return.
I had been desperate for a cat of my own since moving out of my parents' house, but my apartment was nominally pet-unfriendly. Others in the building had dogs, and the landlord didn't care, but the clause in my lease against pets meant most shelters were understandably leery.
Then I found a woman working with a city shelter who was willing to loophole me through and said she had a cat in mind. I met her at a Manhattan vet's office, where the cat in question was recuperating from a disastrous past: locked alone in an apartment for two weeks, drinking out of the toilet to survive, after her original owner went to jail.
The day I saw this cat ('Cims', for 'cat of incarcerated man'), she was sitting half in her water bowl, nose healing from being scraped against the cage bars in an attempt to escape. She was the saddest, fluffiest cat I've ever met, and when I picked her up she kneaded my arm so desperately she broke the skin. No surprise - I took her!
Now renamed Bubalah (Yiddish for grandma, because that face is a grandma face), Bubby is the best thing going. She licks me nonstop, especially when it's 7 in the morning and she's decided she's starving. She's a mini-Maine Coon(ish) who sheds EVERYWHERE. She's a bit too fat and incredibly dopey, she meets me at the door no matter how late, my friends like her better than they do me, and she sleeps on my feet every night. I've had her for almost two years - for her adoption anniversary we threw her a party, complete with her face on a cake! It's hard to imagine her wasting away in an abandoned apartment or a shelter...reason number one thousand why you should adopt, not shop!
I always wanted a pug, but i refused to go to a pet store and buy one, so I l searched and found a rescue place and asked them if they had a pug available. they said not now, check back or you could go on a waiting list, which is what i did,
4 months later, i get a phone call they have a pug that was 18 months old , I had found out he was placed with 2 other homes and had 2 other names, and so i went down and had a visit with the pug, and fell in love. I changed i his name to Mylo
Brought him home, and few years later i broke up with my boyfriend it was pretty brutal, but the best thing in the end and the only reason i got through it, was because of Mylo. he is now 12 and a diabetic, and has cataracts i am trying to make his time on earth pleasant as can be. My grumpy old man.
Tallulah, my Carin Terrier needed a companion. I found a group that handled only Carin Terriers and began the adoption process. I received a 17 page questionnaire. Was I trying to adopt a dog or applying to Harvard graduate school? I heard back from them – I didn’t qualify. What?!!? I called and an officious sounding volunteer huffed, ‘On page 12 of our questionnaire you admitted to leaving your dog off-leash. We can’t have that!” I felt like Michael Vik! I t assured her that I lived in a no-car neighborhood – IN THE COUNTRY!! I pleaded, ‘Did you notice that every dog, cat and bird that ever lived with me died of old age??’
A small dog rescue organization contacted me, ‘We have a cute Carin Terrier mix.’ I looked at a blurry picture of a terrier. Now why didn’t I notice he really didn’t look Carin-ish in the least?
Her truck driver husband would meet me half-way between Oklahoma and Ann Arbor at the loading dock of a car assembly plant. My first impression of the dog was, ‘he looked like a carnie’. Not a showbiz dog who worked in a circus– but those tough guys with nicotine stained fingers with a pack of cigarettes rolled up in their tee-shirt sleeve - the guys who run the Tilt-a-Whirl.’ Yikes!
What part of Carin Terrier was this dog? He had an odd mix of hair – and fur. The hair covered the top of his body, his feet and half of his long curled up tail – it looked like a bad toupee! On the top of his head was a two- tone floppy Mohawk and he had an under-bite. He also looked like a Wookie from Star Wars – but not in a good way.
He peed on my car tire, jumped in the car and sat on my lap. Who could resist?
Jake and Tallulah are both 11. Jake’s hair still looks like a bad toupee. Maybe I should change his name to ‘Trump’?
My friend at the time saw on Facebook that there was puppy's to give away so we went to see them.. There was 5 in total. We saw that the children there was abusing these puppies so my two friends took 2 of the girls and we left I decided I wanted to go back and get lily and her brother but they wouldn't give her brother up(he was the runt). I immediately fell in love with this adorable little puppy and named her 'Molly'. Had her for a bout 3 weeks then I took her and her twin sister Marley up to see my friend and then she fell in love with 'Molly's' twin Marley and when we got home we got the food and her toys all packed up and took the puppies back to my friends later on that day.. Made a mistake and "mixed Molly and Marley up" we have my friend Molly and not Marley but she still fell in love with my dog, she was then renamed 'Lily' and I still got to see her and everything.. I ended up moving in with my friend and Lily and we got kicked out of our place a few months later and ended back up with my dog again but eh oh well still love her today as I did when she was 13 weeks old!!:) she is now 11 months old. Still a caring and loving German Shepard husky mix, still puts a smile on my face. Thank god for her!🐶
My mom and my step dad had a series of beloved cats over the years, all of which died too young due to health reasons. After the last one, Molly, died of cancer, my stepdad said no more, because he just couldn't take losing another one. So for a short time they didn't have any, then my mom got really sick herself. She struggled at home for a while, and then had to go into hospice towards the end. My stepdad was devastated, of course. They had married very late in life, and it was his first marriage. My mom was the love of his life, and he felt so lost without her.
Shortly after she went into hospice, a big orange tabby showed up on his front deck. Their house is way out in the country with few close neighbors, so this was unusual. It was a bitter Minnesota winter, and my stepdad, ever soft-hearted, but still insisting NO MORE CATS, made a shelter for him against the cold. Then of course he put out food. Then it got even colder, so inside the cat came. And once again, despite his best intentions, my stepdad had a cat.
He named the cat Goldie because of his markings and all through that winter and early spring while my mom was in hospice, Goldie was waiting when my stepdad came home from visiting her, offering purrs and snuggles and giving my stepdad someone to care for. Goldie slept with him and kept him company in the long evenings. And when my mom eventually passed, Goldie was there for my stepdad.
I know we talk about recusing cats, but really, they rescue us. I know Goldie was sent by some higher power at just the right time to give my stepdad what he needed to get through a terrible time. They're both still doing fine, keeping each other warm and a little less lonely.
A few months ago, my 9 year old tiger Apika hadn't come home for 3 days,which was nothing unusual. That night, my boyfriend and I heard a cat in distress on the parking lot behind our apartment building. We found an approximately 7 month old kitten who seemed lost and hungry. We felt terribly sorry, but couldn't take her in, in case Apika would come home. She was a very dominant cat, and wouldn't allow any other cats in her territory. So we fed the kitten and left a blanket out for the night.
The next evening, Apika still hadn't come home. It was pouring rain and the kitten was back. This time, we decided to take her in and bring her to the local animal shelter the next day.
I brought her to the shelter, but they were completely full and they asked me if I could take care of her for a few more days. As I was walking out of the shelter, my boyfriend called to announce me the sad news that he found out through facebook that Apika had been hit by a car a few days back (she wasn't chipped, a mistake I'm never going to repeat). I was devastated, but fortunately this beautiful tiger lady that we had already named Kiwi brought me/us some great comfort on one of the saddest days of my life. I brought Kiwi to the vet for a check up and vaccinations.
Kiwi already had a spot in our hearts, but we didn't know if anyone was missing her. We called shelters, radio stations, and posted pictures on animal rescue facebook pages. No one claimed her and we were sure Kiwi would stay.
Kiwi is terrified of the outdoors, so we decided to get her a friend and make them indoor cats. An elderly lady was giving away kittens, so we adopted Sky. They got along almost instantly and they are a source of great pleasure.
(Captain Kiwi and Sky Pashmina on the left picture ; Kiwi on the right picture, on the night we took her in.)