Animal Rescue Stories

Quality of life, not quantity of time

My husband and I had just bought our house in 2015 and were determined to fill it with adopted kitties. We had Salem and then came Giorgio Armani. On a whim my husband visited our local animal control and saw Jack the Ripper; an enormous, adult black cat with luminous green-gold eyes that kept bunting the glass whenever my husband got close enough. He called me at work and told me to go straight over and ask for "Jack the Ripper" but not to be fooled by his name. If I liked him we could adopt and take him home that night. Sure enough, I fell in love with Jack and we bonded instantly. When we got him home we noticed that something wasn't right. He didn't jump onto the furniture but literally clawed his way up. We took him back to the shelter as any medical issues noticed during the first 14 days were to be cared for by the shelter. We were told that they didn't have the equipment or staff to figure out what the problem was and if we wanted, we could bring him back and be refunded our adoption fees. Well, that settled it and we took Jack to our vet. After blood tests and xrays, the vet said that he had a spinal fusion of the lumbar vertebrae but was in otherwise good health. He became my cuddle-buddy with his loud, deep purr and huge biscuit-making paws. I called him My Bubba and carried him like a baby everywhere I went. Of course, we adopted others after Jack, but that’s another story.
In early 2018 we began to notice that Jack wasn't eating as much as he used to, was losing weight at a dramatic pace and walking, let alone using the litter pans, was becoming difficult. He was also going blind. Back to the vet. After some blood work and more xrays, the vet diagnosed immune-related myositis; she said there was a possibility of myasthenia gravis but the testing was too invasive and in the condition Jack was in, it would have been too stressful and painful. So we put him on steroids, added more protein to his diet and started physical therapy. Through it all, Jack was a trooper, never losing his sunny disposition or craving for snuggles. Our vet was hopeful but guarded and reminded us, "You can give him quality of life, not quantity of time". The meds helped for a while but in June he seemed to backslide. So back to the vet again for more tests and we ramped up the meds; he improved again.
Around Thanksgiving, Jack took a turn for the worse. The meds no longer seemed to be helping and his appetite had fallen off. Our vet continued to monitor him but was not optimistic. By Christmas Eve we were hand-feeding him wet food mixed with kitten formula and literally carrying him to the litter pans 4-5 times a day. On the Friday before New Year’s Eve, we made the decision to help Jack to Rainbow Bridge before he became uncomfortable and life had no quality. All that week we had "Jack parties" and "Jack meals" and "Jack trips". We lay in the sun and took naps and went outside (he was always an inside cat), we shared tuna salad and Greek yogurt; all of the things he loved to do, we did. And on January 4, 2019, Jack went into the light with his head on my hand and "I love you" in his ears. Because of Jack, the cats we’ve welcomed into our home since 2015 have been the ones with qualities that made them “less desirable” adoption candidates: older, health issues, behavioral issues, and of course, black coloring. Jack taught us that love isn’t always pretty or neat or painless but it is always worth it and always forever.

CATHERINE D.
SPRINGFIELD, IL

Making a difference in the way people view cats

The foster care coordinator at No-Kill Pima County, called me saying that there were six kittens that needed to be fostered immediately. The kittens had been found in a Rubbermaid container in the Sonoran Desert. It was established that they were around three weeks old.

When I arrived, I looked in the container and was immediately enamored with the ALL of the kittens, but especially a long haired ginger tiger with an attitude.

That was Samson. He had a gleam in his eye the other 5 kittens didn’t. When you took a picture, he was looking straight at you, not away or down.

I had just lost my short-haired ginger tom cat, and wanted another ginger to come into my family. About a week after I had said I was ready, Samson appeared. I knew I was going to keep him, and I found homes with people I knew for his siblings.
As an animal communicator, I wanted to show that cats can do most everything dogs do, they just have to be exposed to that type of lifestyle. I decided to take Samson with me when I traveled, and to treat him like he was a sentient being.

Samson did silly things, like playing with his feet, while his brother totally took care of Sam’s grooming routine. I was concerned that I would have to keep “Ziggy” to be Samson’s man servant. Luckily Ziggy was adopted the next week, and Samson trudged thru learning his own personal hygiene. He got good at it by default.

Samson knew that he enjoyed being around people more than most cats. He loved travel, riding in cars, luxuriating in hotel rooms. When he spoke of this to other cats, they thought Samson was crazy because they preferred staying home.

Samson realized that to travel in cars, pose for photos, go to strange hotels in strange cities, was an avenue for him to share the plight of kittens in animal shelters. Seventy percent of the cats killed in shelters are kittens, innocent creatures with a lot of love to share.

Samson knows that animals come into our lives for a purpose, a purpose that is loving & profound. Of course, it is the human’s choice on whether or not to embark on the journey of that purpose with the kitten, or walk away. Every kitten in a shelter is a love affair waiting to start.

He knew he was to be a spokes cat for fostering kittens from shelters of all kinds. Samson wants to share with the world the love a rescue cat has to give.

Samson has been very busy proving his core belief, that cats heal. He went to a conference called “BlogPaws” in Phoenix when he was 2 months old, was held and loved by all the conference participants. He got to be a “Taster” for new cat foods & treats, along with whipped cream that he thoroughly enjoyed. Samson LOVES being admired as a beautiful cat, feeling the love the people give him

Samson has sunglasses he wears at appearances, and working his sunglasses brings a smile to the biggest curmudgeon! Samson has a tight bond with his mom, any place they are together is home.

Samson has modeled at Global Pet Expo for WellPet, again attended BlogPaws, in Myrtle Beach, and worked SuperZoo17 for @CatsRule.
Then attended the last two years to keep up on products as an influencer. He has modeled for numerous companies since his first year.

He had a wonderful time meeting cat lovers, giving them great tips about how to make your cats happy. After sitting in his stroller all day, Sam loved a great game of “running thru the hotel rooms” and letting loose.

Samson’s biggest accomplishment in 2017 was becoming a certified therapy pet with The Southern AZ Humane Society PetVIP program. Samson was the only cat among over 500 dogs in the program. Sam just re-certified as a therapy pet in 2019, and met another cat graduating as a therapy pet. He welcomes the company!

Samson uses the pet therapy opportunity to bring attention to the fact that cats can travel, walk on a leash, stay in a hotel, just like their dog counterparts. Being a therapy cat that shows people the love a shelter cat has to give is right on target for Sam.

With sunglasses, a “Catitude” and several hats, Samson never fails in delighting the patients he visits in a behavioral health facility. He also appears at events for the Humane Society, and other specific pet therapy events.

Samson just turned three. He also modeled for the series of paintings I am doing for my foster kittens. Every kitten I have had I am making a “AllSoulsDayKittenz” portrait of them to bring awareness that cats are sentient beings, and also that we need more people to pick up the slack and foster kittens that aren’t old enough to eat on their own.

Samson’s painting is a take on the “American Beauty” with him laying on a bed of red roses.
Samson is on Instagram; he loves grooming, playing and being a big Uncle to all the foster kittens!

Ann Marie Hoff
TUCSON, AZ

Kerouac

Driving into my garage after overtime shift, I saw a blur run into my garage. I also heard a woman screaming curses and acting crazy.
I turned off my vehicle, carefully came out of garage.
The woman was across the street, fighting with no one!
The blur was a grey kitten that her son owned.
The cat had been out of doors lately. She was screaming that she was going to burn the house down, AND set that cat on fire!
I quickly closed the garage door, picked up the cowering kitten and went inside to call the police.
When they arrived, she took a swing at an officer. She was cuffed and taken to jail.
I kept the kitten in quarantine until I could get it to my vet for a check up. I already had 3 females.
Mr Kerouac, after Jack Kerouac, is now a healthy, loved, 20 lb love bug. Long ago, the vet said he was underweight, matted, and had ear mites. Told the vet to get him spruced up for his new life.
5 years later and still greets me at the door when I come home.

Beth
LAS VEGAS, NV

In the Nick of Time

I saw her photo on a Facebook posting - she was on "death row" at a high kill shelter in Southern California and wouldn't someone rescue her? The shelter had classified her as a Chihuahua...a death warrant at the majority of California shelters. I knew instantly that she was at least part Jack Russell and that she was wanted in our home. Problem was, we were 500 miles away in another State. I emailed Jack Russell Rescue CA telling her story and asking their help in saving her, to which there was an auto reply that they would respond within 24 hours...too late, as she was scheduled for euthanasia the next morning. Panic set in...30 minutes later, a message from Jack Russell Rescue hit my inbox saying they had pulled her from the shelter and when did I want to come get her? Fortunately, my nephew was in CA on business and a quick phone call to him (and a rented car) got her on her way home. Tootsie has turned out to be Jack Russell/Italian Greyhound and is absolutely the sweetest, most loving girl who adores her brother and sister (both rescues) and brings light and laughter into our lives every day.

Jessie T
PRESCOTT, AZ

Left to fend for himself on the road

When my last furry tyrant died at 19, I was determined not to get another for a while. I was going to save money, travel, not have to make arrangements for a cat if I went out to stay with friends overnight. However, the rest of the family staged a serious protest. The house was empty (it didn't seem to matter to them that the humans were all here). It was boring without a pet.

So I rather glumly consulted the internet for small local rescues, and found a photo of a raggedy cream and white longhair who was living rough and being fed by a couple of kindly locals. He was 'tailgating' through cat flaps, clearly desperate for a settled home. He had been neutered by one of the rescues, but they were all overflowing and he was on the wait lists and had been for a long time. It was coming up to autumn and it was pretty clear he would not make it through another season. Before I could change my mind, the rescue caught him and ferried him straight to my door. He was underweight, his coat was a mess and he was riddled with fleas. He had been outside for at least eight months, through rain, wind and winter storms.

Two years on, he rules the house with a velvet paw. He is the most polite cat I have ever lived with He uses his litter tray and scratch post perfectly, doesn't damage furniture or carpets, has a soft meow which he rarely uses, enjoys being groomed and lets me sleep in. He always comes when called and is very loving but not needy,

Someone must have taught him manners, but they didn't care enough to have him neutered or microchip him. We named him 'Hatton Gardens' after the famous jewellery quarter in London, because he was a rough diamond. If it were not for the dedication of a network of rescuers, we would never have met and my life would be much poorer.

KD EALE
London, United Kingdom

Chirp and Twirp

April 10th was a dreadful day for me. A widow, I heard the devastating news that Cheeto, my elegant and beloved orange tabby, my little 24/7 pal my late husband and I had rescued 11 years before, had cancerous tumors in his abdomen, no doubt the reason for his gradual loss of weight. Like most animals hiding illness or pain, he remained alert, chipper and loving throughout the course of his disease, just a bit slower. At 15, that would be expected of an older kitten. But the x-rays were definitive--the quality of life was rapidly diminishing. So I gave the dreaded nod, and held him tight as he slipped over the Rainbow Bridge.

I wasn't planning on another pet for awhile as grief held Cheeto tight in my heart. But eventually I tentatively started looking on local shelter sites. And then, one day, there they were in the Marshfield Area Pet Shelter (WI): two tawny-colored brothers, litter mates who'd been inseparable their entire ten years, looking for a new home after their owner had passed away. I kept going back to that site, then would think, no, not the right time. But when is the right time?

I have wonderful neighbors, a couple who took Cheeto into their home whenever I'd go away, They were equally devastated when Cheeto died. So I showed them the picture of the two brothers, and between the three of us, decided a road trip to check these two out was in order. Off we went on a warm summer morn to the shelter two hours away. We had decided it had to be a unanimous decision as they were willing to kitty-sit any new cat I chose.

It didn't take us long to realize these two rather portly gentlemen were very friendly, sweet and quite playful. They had been at the shelter about two months, and had been on display in the front window of the shelter for some time. Part of their history was that they became "barn cats" after their owner passed away, but it must have been for a very short experiment until they were brought to the shelter. Perhaps their age, maybe their size, was against them, but we three decided we liked them and would give them a new chance at a loving home. Homes!

They've been with me about three months. I live in Wisconsin's Northwoods, where eagles, fishers, foxes, coyotes, wolves and bears roam freely. Needless to say, they do not go outside! I love them, and so do my neighbors, who have had them one time for a week. The cats are crazy fun, not shy with visitors, busy all the time, and play-wrestle each other if nothing else is going on. They do NOT meow, only chirp, especially when it's time for a meal or treat. (They definitely know why kitchens exist!)

Because they do not have normal cat vocalizations, they were renamed Chirp and Twirp, which fits them perfectly. Chirp is the noisiest with his chirps, while Twirp lives up to his impish name. As I write this, Chirp has settled into my lap while his brother, Twirp, sleeps in a nearby chair. They are here to stay.

Michele Bergstrom
EAGLE RIVER, WI

The little black kitten I couldn't just let die

I was working at a shelter in Washington when a man came in with four blobs in a baseball cap. He explained that his mother's cat kept getting out because she had Alzheimer's and the cat got pregnant but he couldn't keep the kittens. He also wouldn't give us the mother cat so we could spay her because he was afraid to separate her from his mom. We begged him to keep the kittens until they were weaned but he would not agree. No one else could take them, so I did. Three of the four took to a bottle right away but the 4th I could not get to eat at all. I tried everything I could think of. They wouldn't let me tube feed her and told me to just let her die. But I just couldn't do that. As luck would have it, a queen with 5 kittens came in at another shelter and I was able to nurse the kitten off the other mom. Little Bina survived, as did her fatty brother Binx, and two wily twin tabbies. Around the fourth week, Bina ran out of her bathroom confinement, straight into my 27 pound nasty Maine coon who oddly took an immediate liking to her and licked her from head to toe. They became fast friends and we ended up adopting her. They had a wonderful life together sleeping in the same bed and cleaning each other daily for 7 years until he crossed Rainbow Bridge at the age of 10. Bina was never the same but later came to accept a little kitten as her new sibling. Now they run up and down my stairs all day wreaking havoc and helping me when I foster other lonely kittens.

Lisa
VISTA, CA

Mr. Crabby? Really?

I had just lost the last of my cats from a previous generation, 17 year old Max. I was hesitant about getting another cat, because I'm in my early 70's, and not meaning to be morbid, I didn't want a furry friend to outlive me. But my then 31-year old daughter decided, as usual, that she knew more about what I needed than her father did, so she started scanning PetFinder. She soon found a likely young fellow at the Massachusetts SPCA, a tuxedo, which is my favorite breed, and she put a reserve on him and called me to go pick up my new cat. He was a stray who had been picked up on the street and brought to the shelter. The shelter named him Mr. Crabby, because he didn't appear to be too enthusiastic about his temporary quarters. They drew the conclusion that he was a street cat and had never been socialized. But when I got him home and let him roam the house, it became obvious they were wrong. He obviously was very comfortable being a house cat, so Mr. Crabby became Calix, which is Greek for "very handsome". Which of course he is (and knows it).

Now three years later, he has me very well trained in keeping him happy, and he pays me in head butts, leg rubs, and other signs that our contract is a good deal for both of us. And my daughter, of course, always reminds me of who brokered the introduction.

Alan Holbrook
GROTON, MA

Texas, a black male cat, not the state

Texas came to live with me because his owner's father was beating him and threatened to kill him if she didn't get rid of him. Our housemate already had two cats of her own so my husband and I took him to care for. He was indeed a mistreated cat, he flinched when a move to pet him was to quick. I assured him hands were meant for loving and I proceeded to prove it to him. He now purrs and leans into being petted and is a happy, contented cat. He has become a well loved member of our family.

Linda Graves
INDEPENDENCE, MO

My cockatiel flew away

Hi! I read about another family loosing their cockatiel,Fatso,and getting him back. I have a similar story. The door was open for my husband to go out in his wheelchair. I always clip my bird's wings, but I allowed Chip to keep hers so that she could fly away from my cat. She had a wing broken in the past. She was on my caregiver's shoulder and saw the door open. She flew. I heard her for weeks in the trees across from my house. I was so worried that she would starve to death, it would be too cold and she would die from the elements (it was October in PA), something would eat her, she would be hurt with no vet care and die. I was so upset. It wasn't the caregiver's fault. My husband felt horrible. I went on a good 2 months always wondering where she was. I owned a business at the time. My husband and I were leaving when this man pulled into the lot; he stopped us and said he had some news for me. All I ever get is bad news so I said,"If it's bad news, just don't tell me". His mother (200 miles away) had my Chipper bird at her house. He said she fell in love with her. Chip was a very loving bird. I hated to take her from the woman but I wanted her back. As soon as she saw my husband, she started her little love noises she always gave him. It was Chip, no doubts. We called her boomerang bird. She got out the first time because I was ignorant about trimming wings. The second time she flew off my shoulder when I was cleaning windows. My husband was running the power saw and she freaked. The third time I can't remember anymore what happened. From then on, she had wing trims. She lived to the age of 20. It has been 5 years since she passed.

barb martz
DU BOIS, PA