It’s been a rough couple of weeks, hasn’t it? I feel like every time I turn on anything – the television, Twitter, Facebook, my phone, the toaster – there’s bad news that’s going to break me a little inside. If you’re feeling a little raw or sad like I have been, I hope this post gives you a little boost.
PREPARE FOR EPIC FUZZY CUTENESS. MAXIMUM CUTE FUZZ HAS BEEN ACTIVATED.
Avon wants to celebrate Jill Shalvis’ first contemporary romance with them, Sweet Little Lies, book one in her new Heartbreaker Bay series, and they’d like to give one of you a $100 gift card to the bookstore of your choice, AND donate $100 in your name to the San Francisco SPCA. Nice, right?
Here’s a little information from Jill as to why:
In my family, we have a long history of being suckers for animals in need. When I was little, I brought home anything that seemed even slightly abandoned. A bird with a bad wing and a matching bad ‘tude that I fed with an eye dropper. A guinea pig that showed up at our back door demanding food, loudly (have you ever heard one of those things squeal?). A snapping turtle rescued from a pond (I still have a scar from that one…). A very pissy old cat that didn’t necessarily want to be domesticated but did enjoy the softness of my bed. If it needed rescuing, I was all too happy to do so. My parents, not so much. But they never said a word to discourage me.
I’d been dating Alpha Man approximately one week when I found the duck in the middle of the road in Los Angeles. He drove an ambulance at the time, and I called him and said I needed help. When he arrived, I’m pretty sure he was surprised to find himself helping me nurse an injured duck but he was game. In fact, it was only a few months later that he himself rescued an abandoned dog who’d been hit by a car. We took him to the vet together. Poor little guy needed surgery and a good home. We named that dog Max, for Maximum Amount Of Money Ever Spent On A Dog, and he lived fifteen wonderful years and was the love of my life for every single one of those years.
We went on to rescue many more animals over the years. During this time we also raised three daughters. Our oldest, a chip off the old block, volunteered at our local humane society one summer a few years back. No one will be surprised to know that I got a call that started with “mom, there’s this two day old abandoned kitten…”
Who can say no to a two day old abandoned kitten? Certainly not me. We’ve had Satan— er, Sadie, ever since.
These days my oldest daughter fosters kittens and puppies for the San Francisco SPCA. She takes in abandoned animals and takes care of them until they are old enough and weigh enough to be neutered and can be adopted. She uses her own money for kitty litter, bedding, toys, etc. She puts her heart and soul into providing these scared, homeless kittens with some desperately needed love, and every time they get adopted, she cries over the loss. And then starts the process all over again.
And honestly? I couldn’t be more proud. I’m also, as I type this, holding a teeny, tiny baby bunny that we found in our yard today, apparently abandoned. The cycle never ends….
Get ready. It’s CUTENESS TIME. Here are just some of the 65+ puppies and kittens Jill’s daughter has fostered.
You might want to sit down. Ready?
PUPPY TOES AND POLKA DOTS!
SO TEENY!
SMALLEST EARS EVER!
HAI!
KITTEN WITH SHOES. Must go lie down. Excuse me.
TOO MANY TOES. OVERLOAD OF TOES.
Well, I feel better. I hope you do, too! And if not, here are a few more rescue pets, though these are full grown.
Right before we moved, our last remaining cat, Spawn, died suddenly, so for the first few months in our new home, we had no cats. It was weird. Then we adopted two rescue gentlemen who have lived mostly under The Futon of Concealment. They’re finally coming out during daylight hours!
This is Orville.
This is Wilbur, Orville’s brother, who throws a huge house party every night and sleeps all day. Tell me I’m not alone and that your cats are like this. He’s weird, I tell you.
That’s Zeb, who desperately wants to be BFFs with Wilbur, who is not interested unless he gets to chase Zeb. Their relationship is weird.
And this is Zeb (front) and Buzz, who are likely brothers, and are also rescues. Buzz is scared of everything (including the camera, hence the floppy front ears) except Zeb, who is his best friend in the world.
What about you? Who are your favorite furry friends? Do you have a fuzzy creature picture that lifts you up? Just leave a comment and tell us about your rescue pet, or the animal you love most in the universe. I know a lot of you have rescues, too. If you’d like to share a picture, please do, but please make sure it’s less than 600 px wide. By commenting, you’ll be entered to win a $100 gift card to the bookstore of your choice, and have a donation to the SF SPCA made as well. Thank you to Avon and to Jill Shalvis for the prizes and the pictures!
Standard disclaimers apply: Void where prohibited. Open to US residents of 18 years of age and over. We are not being compensated for this giveaway except with a massive dose of adorable cuteness. Animals in mirror may be closer than they appear. Belly rubs always appreciated. Thunderstorms can go away now. Comments will close on Friday 23 24June around 12pm ET, and one winner will be selected at random.
Cuteness: GO!
ETA: We have a winner! Congratulations to tikaanidog! You’ll be receiving a $100 gift card to the bookstore of your choice, and a donation in your name will be made to the SF SPCA. Yay!
But most of all, thank you to everyone who entered, and made this thread such a fuzzy, warm, lovely place to share stories about our furry friends and family members. This comment thread has been a solace and wonderful reading experience. You and all your furry friends, past and present, are awesome.
My cat, Mel, was a tiny foster kitten when I first met him; he’s now 11, and he first became a lap cat rather than a couch-sharing cat about three years ago.
1 dog, 2 cats, 2 ratties — all rescues! Lucy the dog was 9 weeks old when we brought her home as a sub-10-pounder, and is now (at 2.5 years old) a ridiculous Heinz-57-lb-goof. We’re pretty sure she’s a pittie-Husky-who-knows-what-else mix– I just took her for a 30 min walk, and she is now DEAD because it’s HORRORS above 70 F. SO HOT. 😀
We were grieving the death of our last, greatest Newfoundland when I heard someone had a litter of Otterhound puppies. The house he was in reeked of, gees, everything and I couldn’t wait to get him out of there.
The first order of business was a bath, which he tolerated, barely, unusual for a water dog. But he was so scared and shivering so much. I wrapped him in a big towel, held him close as I sat on the floor, and we both fell asleep.
He was named Guinness because he was black and tan and goofy.
A couple of weeks ago we had to put our oldest cat, Phineas, to sleep. He had kidney failure. It was almost 18 years to the week from when we found him.
We were driving home from the store at about 9 pm, taking a back route along residential streets. As we were passing an overgrown area my not-yet-husband (the passenger) said “I see cat eyes glowing by the side of the road!” We circled back around and drove slowly, looking for what he saw. Sure enough there were two tiny kittens sitting by the side of the road, with a torn paper bag next to them. We stopped and scooped them up into our car, and took them home. We settled them in the garage for the night, with food, water, a towel and a cardboard box with some litter.
The kittens were cute–one gray tiger on top and white on the bottom, the other brown tiger with tabby markings (circles rather than stripes)–but we already had two cats. I called our vet in the AM, who referred us to a cat rescue group. I called then and arranged a pickup in the afternoon, at my office. All morning the kittens (now id’d as boys, approximately 5 weeks old, by someone who had a cat with litters in the past) were passed from person to person, with everyone oohing and aahing but always unable to adopt for one reason or another. After lunch, the gray one crawled into the carrier to sleep but the brown tiger insisted on sleeping in my lap while I worked.
I reluctantly gave them both to the rescue person, but a week later I called back and reserved the brown tiger, assuming he was healthy. On July 4th weekend I picked him up. Phineas was not scared of the big cats in the house, and made his place with them.
Phineas was a very pretty cat with big round green eyes. He was always my baby and would climb on my shoulder as I worked at the computer. The last few years were hard, with all the peeing that goes with kidney disease. I don’t miss the pee, of course, or the stink of cat pee–but I miss him.
Oh goodness. And I thought my rescue dog was the most expensive ever – two days after adopting the stray pit bull, we discovered she had parvo. $1500 and a year later she ate a Tylenol that had fallen to the floor. More money and another year and she ate a seed out back that was poisonous…more money and two years and she nearly drowned in the backyard pool. Thankfully, since then all we’ve had to do for her is love her and treat her hip displaysia and subsequent arthritis. She’s still making our lives better.
There were many before and after but she has been the priciest one so far! And she still has the cute going on, even in her dotage!
We got our current kitties from the “used kitty store” (shelter) in October and they’re freaking adorable. Gato and Neko are a bonded pair…so even though they look nothing alike, they act like brothers.
A few months after we had to put down our rescued cat Peanut (the
funniestdumbestcutest cat in the world – story to come) we went to get a dog from our local rescue, and settled on an adorable dalmation named Elvis (coolest dog name ever). But Oldest (then 5, and in kindergarten) was worried that he might jump on him too much. So we looked at a beautiful Golden lying down near Elvis. We went over and she stood up – lo and behold, where the hell were her legs? Turns out, she’s a Golden/Corgi mix. Those Corgi legs are a pretty dominant trait. After a home check, she settled in perfectly with her new name Teddi (what else would a 5 yr old name a pup?) and her trusty best friend, Bowl.Teddi was great for the first year (although the jumping thing? CHAMP), and then a visit from someone obviously triggered something in her past. She bit the home appraiser (needless to say, our house was appraised at slightly less than its value). And from then on, if she knew you before “the bite” you were family. If she met you after, you were the enemy, and to be eaten. Thus sparking her nicknames Cujo and Sybil. We stuck with her, bringing in a doggie psychologist (we’re SO L.A.) and never having a stress-free moment in the past 16 years if someone other than family was in the house.
She’s now 18, still gong strong, and has seen one child through college graduation (we’re hoping she’ll make it til Youngest graduates as well). Thankfully she’s mellowed a lot in the past couple years, and now is the toast of the town. She finally realized she gets cookies for not biting. Who knew?! Bowl is a bit worse for the wear (ok, actually, really disgusting) but she won’t give Bowl up because Bowl is still her best friend in the world.
Still to come… the story of the
funniestdumbestcutest cat in the world.I LOVE my Yokie Zoey, she’s so much work but worth it. Before her we had two Labs a chocolate Hannah and a yellow Jessie. They both lived to a ripe old age and were were very good friends to each other and the kids.
All of our pets have been rescue animals–mostly cats. But about 12 years ago, my girls decided they wanted a large, goofy dog; we connected with a golden retriever rescue agency that operates here (Oregon). We’ve had three absolutely amazing dogs since then, all of them at least eight years old when they came to live with us. Watching our old dogs interacting with a parade of cats/kittens has been priceless. Our current dog, Maple, is the first boy dog we’ve had. He adores my teenage daughter and follows her around. When her friends are over, he finds the middle of the party and falls asleep. He went Christmas caroling this past year with her chamber choir. He’s chased away at least one coyote. And the way he runs for the garage door when he hears my daughter’s car come home is epic! Best. Dog. Ever.
My cat, Pumpkin, was a stray before he was rescued by my neighbor. She gave him to my landlady who promptly gave him to me when I moved into my apartment. Because he was a stray during his formative years, he is very independent, but he’s also very low maintenance. He’s more like a roommate than a pet in some ways, but that works well for both of us :).
One day while the Man of the House was off on a business trip, the household twins cornered me: “Mummy”, they said in all earnestness, “could we please go pet the kittens?” This of course is code for “We must go RIGHT NOW to the Humane Society and adopt a cat or three!!!”
“We are JUST ADMIRING cats today. We are NOT ADOPTING.”
Well, of course, Thing One fell in love with a scrap of black fur the size of his hand. But, being made of sterner stuff, I reminded him of the JUST ADMIRING rule, and home we went, kittenless.
Of course, once we got home, they ganged up and somehow got me to agree that on Monday (three days hence) we would go back, and if that exact kitten was still there, we would adopt him. Because what are the odds that exact kitten would be still there after a weekend that featured an adoption event?
Well, of course we went back on Monday. And of the twenty four kittens, four remained. Every kitten had been adopted except the black ones. So Thing One happily scooped up his kitten (now perversely named Sunny) and we went home.
A week or so later, Thing One confessed that he couldn’t remember which kitten he’d originally fallen in love with, but he was pretty sure he’d gotten the wrong one, because HIS KITTEN could not possibly be a pint-sized serial killer, which it seemed Sunny aspired to be. But we weren’t about to return the wee psychotic thing, because who would ever want him?, and so we decided to hope for the best.
It’s been eight years, and Sunny is a larger serial killer now, as it turns out. He races across the roofs of the neighborhood impersonating Death of Rats, looking for all the world like a live action Bagheera from The Jungle Book. But he adores his people, and shares his catch on a regular basis (and in a neighborhood with citrus and urban chickens, there’s plenty to catch). So it’s all good, and Thing One will definitely miss him when he goes off to college.
Our other big rescue story is about Peanut. So named, because she had a brown nose and fit in the palm of Hub’s hand. Back in the 80s, we lived in a fairly seedy apartment. We walked outside and in the gutter, saw this tiny ball of fluff. Obviously the runt, and left behind, still too young to be weaned, she captured our hearts. We tried to find her a home, honest we really really did, but it was too much cuteness to handle. So we kept her, and bottle fed her til she was old enough to wean.
Peanut was the cutest, but the absolute dumbest kitten around. Many days, we’d find her hanging from the curtains from 1 leg when we came home, looking at the door as if to say, “A little help here, please!”. In her 15 years, she never did learn how to retract her claws once she got them into something. She’s the cat who actually played out Christmas Vacation. Yes, she electrocuted herself on the Christmas tree lights. Like I said, dumb as a doornail. But she was soooo cute. If you tried to walk to the bathroom, she’d stand guard in front of it and hiss her ferocious teeny tiny hiss. Once a friend was scared to go past her (bwahahaha), so we had to point out that she was about 10 inches long and 5 inches high, and he could just step over her. (That friend was nicknamed “Duh”).
One day, she went into heat (dammit, we didn’t catch it in time). Well, our other rescue cat (who had FUS early on, and now had girl plumbing) still had a tiny bit of testosterone pumping through his pituitary and he decided it would be the perfect time to get him some. So he did his best, but without the equipment he was a poor performer. Peanut would turn her head and glare at him while he tried to mount her as if to say “Jeez, is this all there is?“. Needless to say, we got her spayed immediately after and that was the end of both of their sexual experience.
Boy, I miss having a cat. Especially a dumb one.
Too many cats and I loved them all. We are down to one unless he decides he would like a friend and invites one home.
My especiallist love was Diego who only lived 6 years, but he lives large in my heart. (How do I add the photo?)
I am unable to have a pet, but I enjoy dogs. That being said, I have always been enamored with Big Cats and when I was a kid, I always wished for a tiger!
Ahhhhh…. the critters! Why are you doing this to my ovaries when I’m PMSing?? I’ve been thinking about adopting an older dog. I’ve never had a dog when living alone, so I think a puppy might be a little much, but I miss having the whole routine of walking a dog, snuggling in the winter, etc. I also miss having a cat and THESE KITTENS! Gah, SBTB is leading me down a dangerous path today
our most recent rescue was a Golden Retriever. He was missing one of his front legs. We named him Lefty.
Our last rescue pet, Suzie Q, was a wonderful Akita/lab/and something smaller mix, with a spotted tongue and a curly tail. She was so special…loyal, gentle, kind, smart. The kids grew up with her. The grandkids grew to adore her. When she left us a few years ago, it was after 18 years of love and devotion. We’ll never replace her. But we do plan to get another rescue dog this year. I enjoy Jill’s books and I love those pet pics. Thanks.
My favorite rescue was a black and white tuxedo cat named Oliver. He lived until just past his 21st birthday and I miss him every day. He had big green eyes. Here he is looking a little like Puss-n-boots asking why his food bowl is empty.
Trying once more. [IMG]http://i68.tinypic.com/dysyhj.jpg[/IMG]
Stella Luna is our adopted cat, and she’s definitely the queen of our household. She’s a beautiful tuxedo cat with the intrinsic knowledge that she should be worshipped as a goddess. She has kept me company, made me laugh, and guarded us against many invading lizards over the years. When my husband moved into our apartment, she became his partner in crime, sitting in the chair beside his and lording it over the living room. I adopted her about 12 years ago now, and she’s our old lady with arthritis and diabetes (two injections a day, poor girl). She has her good days and her bad days now, but she’s our Stella, and we love her very much.
My wonderful, favorite animal friend is Mortimer the English Bulldog. He’s the light of my LIFE (I guess my husband and the dog share that spot, but whatever)! He’s so funny and snuggly and smart.
Both our girls are rescue cats, adopted out just before the local shelter shut down due to a virus ravaging through the shelter that caused most of the pets to be put down. Both our munchkins were ill, and one required so much intensive round-the-clock care that the vet was amazed that we were able to keep her alive. Both are happy and thriving now, content in knowing they are the queens in their castle. They are my fur babies.
We adopted our first dog from a shelter. He was a pitbull/labrador mix who was very playful and loving in his youth and more chill towards the end of his life. He had been returned to the shelter for biting but he never bit us. He passed away a few years ago but I still think of him anytime I see a big happy dog.
My cocker spaniel, Harvey, is the cutest thing ever even with a bad eye. He’s a bit of a scaredy dog, but he loves playing with toys, being told he’s handsome, and eating. He has helped me through so many bad times in the nearly ten years I’ve had him. He is definitely my fur baby.
All but one of my kids were foundlings. My first dog, Flippy, a beagle-ish, found me, part of a litter of puppies disposed of by abandoning them throughout my neighborhood. She was my close companion for a dozen years. A year after she died I found my second dog, Muffin, some sort of shih tzu, in the parking lot at work. She had evidently gotten lost, but we never found out where she came from, and I had her for 14 years. I decided to her a roomie to keep her company all day while I worked, and, since she did not like other dogs, my sister came up with a free-to-any-home-just-get-them-out-of-the-barn tiny sick little runt of a kitten who grew up to be a beautiful black panther named Tuxedo Junction. It turned out that Muffin did not consider a kitten an adequate companion and Tux was lonely, so when someone abandoned some kittens at a friend’s house, I took the brown tabby, named her Chloe, and took her home to Tux. He thought she was the best toy I’d ever given him, and she adored him. It was years before she’d give me the time of day, and then only at dinnertime. Then Muffin died and my sister found a guy who had a litter of shih tzu/Maltese puppies, and I took my Trinket. Tux raised Trinket as he had raised Chloe, but he died when she was 6 months old. A couple of months later there was this little red tabby tiger under my car at work. I did try to find where he lived, but no one admitted to knowing him, and I took him home, named him Charlemagne, and he and Trinket became best buddies. Chloe lived a very quiet 18 years (she was a hider), and a year after that when I was walking Trinket I used to meet this beautiful long-haired white cat, who used to walk along with us, talking all the way. It was several months before I found out that he was actually homeless. Since I had an opening for a cat, I invited him in. He looked around and decided to stay, and deigned to answer to Jasper. Trinket was very old by that time and she ignored him; Charlie was convinced he had cooties, but as long as they tolerated each other, it was all good. Trinket died almost 3 years ago, but I didn’t want to add another animal to the mix while I still had Charlie. It’s been a year now since he died at 19, so I’ve been waiting for another dog to find me, but it seems that I’m going to have to be more proactive about the search. I don’t think it’s good for Jasper’s character to be an only pet (he disagrees), so I’m ready to step up my search. Wish me luck!
I started fostering kittens for Independent Animal Rescue about 4 years ago. We’ve gotten over 30 adopted, but two ended up being part of our permanent collection.. Ashputtle (puddle), a sweet but dismally dim white cat who lives to roll around in dirt and shed fur and sleep in the sun. She doesn’t really understand how to cat, but we love her anyways.
And Firefox, my dear Mr. Snuffles – he was a bottle baby who came to me when weaned, developed horrific ocular herpes and had to go back to the vet for a while. They managed to save both eyes, but one has permanent scarring and is a bit goopy as a result, so nobody wanted him although his personality is A++++ Snugglebomb. Like most bottle-babies, he thinks people are his mama and needs snuggle time every day. He also shirt-suckles, and makes little snuffling noises instead of purring (hence his nickname). After about a year we just gave up and decided he was ours forever – no regrets!
(Now, about the two manxes who have been with me for more than a year now – they need to get adopted! I am missing kittens. They are wonderful and lovely but four full-sized cats is a bit too many.)
We adopted a rescue bunny rabbit, Paisley, a few months ago and are slowly getting her to trust us. She’s part hotot, which makes it look like she has fab eyeliner on. She loves blueberries and fresh cilantro, and her favorite place in the house is under the couch where she can keep an eye on everybody’s toes
We have 4 cats now & all are rescues who were either born on the property where we live or else showed up here & were taken in. Our oldest is Bumblebee, a ginger girl who is now 9 years old, whom we bottle fed when we found her abandoned in our garage at 3 weeks old. My husband & I fed her every 4 hours, with him staying up until midnight to do his last feeding & I’d wake at 4 a.m. to start the process all over again. He was home during the day & so fed her way more than me & consequently, Bee thinks he is her mother & adores him. She tolerates me & lets me live in the house with her & the favored human!
My current dog is not a rescue, but my last one was. In 2006 I lost my dog to cancer and it was so traumatic. She was the first dog that was mine, not a family dog, and if had her since I was 16. She was only 10 and I felt that she was way too young. She was so healthy until she suddenly wasn’t. And I was not ready for another dog at all after she died. I couldn’t even vacuum one corner of my living room because it had scratch marks from her in the carpet.
But a month later a friend told me about a dog at the shelter that needed a home. He was old and had been at the shelter multiple times. So I had no interest really but thought maybe I’d just give him a home for a few years since he was already 11. I adopted him but told the shelter if anyone else was interested they could come meet him.
I brought him home but felt immediately like I’d made a mistake. There was no attachment feelings and I felt like he was an interloper in my house. But something changed that first week and I started to love him. He wasn’t my previous dog, but he was himself. He had cataracts and was going deaf, but just full of love. I called him my little old man dog. When I’d come home he was so deaf and he’d be sleeping soundly so I could wake him up by waving treats under his nose.
I had him for 3 years. Putting him down was so hard. I’d never intended to get so attached to him. He was just the type of dog who wormed his way into my heart. And if I didn’t have so many cats right now I’d get another rescue dog in a heartbeat.
We adopted a cat that our vet was fostering about 2.5 years ago. He was a small black kitten that we named Sirius Black. Now he’s a 16lb monster, who is sweet but not overwhelming– unless you are a guest at our home, and then you are his favorite person in the entire world and he must smother you with love and attention.
My coworker had a rescue dog, and when she first got him she brought him in to work every day. Initially he was afraid of everyone and slow to trust, but he came around. His favourite activity was joining people in impromptu downward dog poses, then licking your eyeball when you were defenseless.
We have two cats…not really rescues although they were adopted from the local APL. Their names are Osiris and Isis (they are brother and sister) and they are the light of my life. They are amazingly kind to my children (Osiris lets my daughter carry him around like a baby…I keep trying to tell her that not all cats would go for this). Isis guards my children when they are asleep.
I’ve loved reading all the comments, SBTB are a very kind bunch of people!
All our cats are rescues-3 we have gotten from the vet clinic my husband works for, and our latest is one my daughter adopted from a shelter in her college town.
Sassy was brought into the clinic covered in motor oil, a boy had found him on his way to school, and had him in his backpack. The teacher brought him to my husband for grooming so she could take him to the shelter. Sassy purred all the way through his first bath, and my husband fell in love. He was a few months old, and now is going on 19-sadly diagnosed with a brain tumor in the beginning of May-but with prednisone every day, still hanging in there, and still a purr monster.
Simba was brought to the clinic to be euthanized, he had something wrong with his chest-his ribs were collapsed in. One of the doctors decided to treat him, and through the miracles of veterinary science-rigged him up, and expanded his rib cage a bit each week. Simba needed a home at the end of his treatment, he came to the house so my daughter and I could meet him, and he and my daughter fell in love at first sight. He lived a happy, healthy life until we lost him due to a blood clot in January.
Mewlan was part of a litter than was found one winter night, one kitten had already frozen to death. The litter was bottle fed, and then adopted out-Mewlan was the last one left, my daughter had left a month before to college, and though I was hesitant, best decision I ever made. She is a real pistol, but she is the most beautiful cat-full of personality.
Evie was at a no kill shelter my daughter visited to get in some furry friend time during the semester-she fell in love with her, adopted her and brought her home for the summer. Still some question if she will be able to go to school with my daughter or not, if not she has settled in fine here at the house-although Mewlan doesn’t agree that we needed a new member of the family.
Our retriever mix, Gavin, is a rescue. He’s a bit neurotic (like a lot of us, meaning me), but so sweet. I can’t imagine being without him.
We have a 7 year old wonderful rescue dog named Ikey. His first two years were hard – never inside and picked on by all the other dogs. He has the scars to show for it, but he has the sweetest, most mellow temperament. He is so grateful to be in a safe, loving home, and has been my velcro-dog/faithful companion for the past 4 years. He’s wonderful with children, and has been a fantastic compliment to our family. He’s our 3rd rescue dog in the last 20 years – I wouldn’t do it any other way. They all seem to be around 65-70 lbs of mixed origins. Ikey is a hound-lab-??? mix. He needs to be an only dog, so I have to get my puppy fix from friends or great pictures like these. Oh, and Ike is allergic to cats (as is my brother-in-law) so they have to be admired virtually too.
Cats have been a constant my entire life. The occasional dog was in there, but there was always a cat or three around. Our current two are Xena and Gabrielle. They were rescues. I also volunteer at the Humane Society Silicon Valley in the kitten nursery. Talk about buckets of cuteness! 🙂
My rescue kitty’s name is Mia and she is the grumpiest little chubber ever. I rescued Mia the day after I got my wisdom teeth out – I was sad, in pain, and wanted a snuggle buddy. She and her siblings were feral, born in a barn and not happy with people at all. Mia was the only kitten that would sit near me, while the others were hissing from a corner. I picked her up and snuggled her to my neck. She’s been with me for 7 years (this month!) and has settled into chubby, domesticated bliss. She loves when the shower is on, primarily because she likes to drink water from the shower and play in the tub. She hates her belly rubbed and loves her ears scratched. Mia is a great cat and I am so glad I rescued her.
When I was a kid, we brought Lucky home from one of the local animal shelters. He was the cutest little Corgi mix and the best dog ever. We had him 19 years. I still miss him.
I have two rescue cats who are the best decisions I’ve ever made. The first is a beautiful calico tabby who was rescued from death row at a city animal shelter by a rescue group hours before euthanasia, and who then spent 8 more months at a Petsmart before we adopted her. She’s tolerated every crazy twist and turn life has thrown at her humans, including being the perfect world traveler on two 20-plus-hour airplane rides when her humans had to move to the other side of the planet for work.
The second cat was rescued by my aunt, who found a black-and-white fluffball hiding in her flowerbeds one winter and let her into the house. My aunt suddenly passed away a few months later and nobody knew what to do with this stray cat. Relatives were on the verge of surrendering her to the local (not no-kill) animal shelter, so I adopted her. It seemed like the best way to honor my aunt’s memory, even though I had reservations about sharing my tiny apartment with two cats. This cat wouldn’t have been very adoptable in a shelter setting – she’s very fearful around new people – but has blossomed into the biggest love-sponge you can imagine. Can’t imagine life without either of them.
I used to foster cats and in fact my first cat is a failed foster. She will be 11 this summer. Was always a dog person until this brown and white tabby stole my heart!