Sampson & Mr. B are Sensational!

Julie Czulewicz sent us this touching Shelter Story about her two cats:

I just recently read the stories that people have sent in about their animals, and I wanted to tell you a brief story about two cats of mine.

In 1997, a friend of mine found two abandoned kittens in a storm drain near the office where she worked. She was leaving work one day and said she heard this pitiful meowing. She followed the sound and found two tiny, soaking wet twin balls of fur huddled against one another for warmth. Being an animal lover herself, she picked them up and brought them home. While she knew she could not keep them, she had every intention of finding a good home for them. If not, she said she would take them to the Humane Society and hope that they could find them a good home. She nursed them back to health and bottle-fed them several times daily.

One day my husband, David, and I were visiting her for dinner and she decided to show them to us. David instantly fell in love with them and so did I. Before I knew it, we were taking them home with us that night. They were only 5 weeks old. They cried constantly at night until we would pick them up and set them on the bed with us. Then they would quickly settle down for the night. Needless to say this became a nightly routine.

I have not been able to have children in all my years of marriage, so Sampson and Mr.B, as we decided to name them, became the loves of my life. Both boys seem to know when I need them. When ever I am sad they can sense it, and climb up on the couch, sit on my lap and purr. On the day that David, who is in the US Navy, left for the war in Afghanistan I cried my eyes out with worry over his safety. Both my boys sensed my sadness and jumped up on the bed next to me and began to take turns licking the tears from my face and cuddled up to me and began to purr. While David was away, Sampson and Mr.B crawled under the covers and slept next to me every night. Whenever I would write to my husband, they seemed to know, and would jump into my lap and put their paws on my letter to remind me to tell their “daddy” that they wanted said “hi” too.

If I sleep late in the morning, they take turns sitting on my chest and purring until I get up and feed them. In a sense they have become my alarm clocks. Every day when I come home from graduate school, they greet me at the door with meows and purrs. When David is home from tours of duty, they fight over sitting on his lap while he either watches TV or works on the computer. He calls them his boys. I call them my angels.

It has been 7 years since they came into the life of David and I. They are no longer tiny balls of fur. Sampson and Mr.B now weigh about 15 pounds each. They curl around each other like yin and yang symbols when they sleep. They can hear a can opener from the other side of the house and race each other to the kitchen in order to investigate whatever treat they might discover. They love to play with their catnip toys and amuse my husband and I constantly with their antics. I begin each day by being greeted with good morning “meows” and end each day with affectionate purrs. They have traveled with us to every place the Navy transfers my husband and I to. They have enriched the life of both my husband and I in ways I cannot begin to describe. I thank God every day for sending them to me. I just wanted to share their story with other Mutts readers, so everyone can know about two of the best things that ever happened to me.

Little Richard is a Star!

Here's a Shelter Story from 'Nay and Sham about their eccentric adopted cat:

My name is René ('Nay). I am a Certified Research Administrator and Contracts and Grants Analyst for University of California. I am forty-something, and Sam (Sham) is fifty-something.

In January, 4 years ago, my husband was out in our side yard getting wood for our fireplace when out popped this adorable kitty who immediately started purring and brushing against Sham. Now, understand, at the time Sham disliked cats with a passion. However, this kitty was just skin and bones, and it was perhaps 35 degrees and raining outside. So, Sham put this kitty in the wheelbarrow and gave him a ride to our back door. This cat was so pathetic, I had Sham bring the cat inside, toweled him off and fed him some leftover cooked ground beef. Well, kitty ate the beef and wanted more. He must have been starving. He only weighed 8 pounds. We posted pictures and our phone number all over our neighborhood without any response. The rest is history, he's been with us ever since — turning Sham into a cat lover in the process! These days we feed Little Richard Eukanuba for dinner, and he's now tipping the scale at a more healthy and active 13 pounds.

We named kitty Little Richard for the noise he makes as a greeting to us. It's as if he's singing — a bit like a high pitched rolling of R's like the singer Little Richard in his songs. Sham can't go anywhere around our house without his little shadow. Just last week Sham painted our house and Little Richard had to "help". We cleaned him as best we could, but he's had one grey paw from trying to stir the paint, and one whole side of him white from brushing against a freshly painted wall.

Little Richard has his own little pink sock. I spend plenty of time hunting for it, and usually find it under Sham's side of the bed. Little Richard still enjoys rides in the wheelbarrow.

This is a picture of Little Richard playing dominos with Sham and Sham's dad. They tell me Little Richard won that game!

Yesh! We love Mutts, and are especially fond of Mooch, Chickpea and Chickpea's Brother.

Mighty Maggie!

Jennifer L. Walsh of Denver, CO sent us this Shelter Story about her special-needs dog companion:

I am a profound animal lover of all kinds and I love to snuggle with my mini dachshund under a nice warm blanket.

Maggie is a 3-year-old miniature dachshund that I adopted on December 05, 2001. I wanted to send in a photo and her story because she is a very special little dog. She was born partially blind, and later my dad and I found out that she was totally deaf. I believe all animals deserve a chance to be happy, so we spoil her all the time. She reminds me of Mooch (we always say Maggie is really a cat inside) because she pounces on the squirrels, has her little toy she drags around, sleeps on top of the couch and of course she loves cheese. No questions asked, I would adopt another animal with disablities — they make some funny noises! Dog NOSE best ;]

Danny is Dynamite!

Rick Blanke sent us this Shelter Story about his special-needs dog companion:

My name is Rick Blanke, I'm 48 and live with my wife, Lynn, 3 cats (Teaser, FyreKat, and Kat-Lassie) on 1/2 acre. Our most recent addition is a dog named Danny. Danny is almost completely blind, and is limited to seeing only slight amounts of light and shadow. We adopted Danny off a rescue site, English Springer Rescue America, after reading his story. He was found abandoned in the woods by a hunter in December 2003, and taken to a vet. The vet placed him with the Springer group, who placed him with a foster mom. We saw his ad and instantly felt a bond with him.

He's about 10 months old, and very playful and loving. His blindness is a genetic disorder, and he'll probably lose all of his sight as he gets older. Blind dogs are kind of interesting—dogs actually do quite well with very limited or no sight. We even play fetch, rolling a ball across the ground to him. Danny tears around the back yard, full of trees and shrubs, never running into anything. The cats are still a little leery of him, especially when he gets excited and woofs (such as in the early a.m. when I get up for work and go to the pantry for food) but generally ignore him. They have figured out he can't see but don't torment him.

The picture is of Danny with his "seeing-eye" cat, FyreKat.

Mutts has been my favorite strip since its inception, and I hope it continues on for many years.

Supernatural Seymour!

Kate Musselman, a 33-year-old writer and adjunct teacher, and her partner, Melanie Fordliving, sent us this story about their three "dream cats." They write:

If you asked me if I believe in psychic phenomena, I'd say I was a skeptic. But sometimes, you have to believe. Nine years ago this month, my partner Melanie had a dream about a kitten. And the next day, her dream came true.

At the time, we already had two cats—brothers named Handsome and Boo that we'd adopted as kittens two years earlier. When a woman in Melanie's office came in with a box of kittens for adoption, we talked it over, but decided we couldn't manage another cat. One of her officemates decided to take home a kitten as a surprise for her fiance, and she took the last little fellow in the box. Melanie couldn't shake her bad feeling about it, since it's rarely a good idea to give an animal as a gift. That night she had a dream. In her dream, her officemate returned to work with the kitten. She said she didn't like him and she wanted to give him back. Melanie felt so bad for the kitten that she brought him home and all was well. When Melanie told me about her dream, we wondered if it was a sign that we should have adopted one of the kittens, but they'd all found homes, and we weren't sure our cats would welcome a new member of the family.

By the time I got into work that morning there was already a message on my desk from Melanie. When I called, she said "Remember that dream I had last night?" It turned out the woman's fiance didn't like cats, and the woman herself wasn't so crazy about them, either. She didn't want the kitten, and she'd brought him back to work.

We named him Seymour, and he moved in and took over. At first, Handsome wasn't entirely certain he liked the interloper; Seymour was bug-eyed crazy as a kitten (probably feral, according to our vet) and had a tendency to tear up the place. Boo, on the other hand, took Seymour in hand and taught him all his tricks. These days Seymour has calmed down—but he still has that wild streak in him and he likes to shake things up. He's also a wonderfully affectionate cat; he's always by my side or on my lap, and he sleeps curled up right next to me every night. He's playful and sweet, and, the occasional wrestling match aside, gets along well with his brothers; you can often find the three of them snuggled up together in a heap.

Jasper is Just Perfect!

Heather Millsap, 34, sent us this wonderful tale about how she acquired her best friend:

I have always rescued dogs from horrible circumstances, or adopted puppies from friends’ litters so they wouldn't get taken to the pound. Most of my life I have been a foster pet parent for wayward doggies. I have never bought a dog from a puppy mill or breeder, and I never will. Growing up, I never got to keep the dogs that my family saved. But finally, as an adult in my own home, that changed.

In '97 I was living in Arizona, and watched a local news show called "Pets on Parade" where they feature different animals that are at the Humane Society waiting to be adopted. I saw a Great Dane featured that day that melted my heart. My boyfriend at the time said "Let's go see him," and off we went to the Humane Society in Phoenix.

When I got there, my heart broke to see this dog. He was 8 years old, terribly underweight and would not come to me no matter how hard I tried. I almost cried. He was not available for adoption until the next day. My boyfriend wandered off and kept running up to me to tell me about this or that puppy, but I was too sad about this Great Dane to care. I finally tore myself away from him to walk around a bit.

While walking the inner kennels I noticed in a dark corner there was a big, black dog. All of the other dogs were barking and jumping on their cages as I walked by and talked to them, except this one. All he did was watch me, and when I got near him he walked up to me, sat down and put his paw on the fence. I sat down by him and my heart grew, and tears fell down my face. He had picked me out right then and there.

I took Jasper home an hour later, but I couldn't stop thinking about the Dane that was still at the shelter. "He's old,”; “He's sick," I kept telling myself. But I also thought "If he's only got a short time left, he should be in a home that loves him". I called the shelter the next day to find out if anyone had adopted the big boy, and sure enough FIVE families had put in for him, and he was going home with one of them that very day.

That was almost 7 years ago, and my boy is almost 9 now. He has been my sunshine ever since I laid eyes on him. His previous owners said he showed no potential, and I still don't know what they were talking about. He is a beautiful, smart and lively companion who never fails to make me smile. He is even the reason that I volunteered time at the Animal Welfare League. He and I try to never miss a pet charity dog walk or wash in our neighborhood. He's my tall, dark and handsome best friend, and babysitter for his two kitty sisters as well.

I love my pound puppy.

Yeah, Baby, Yeah!!

This story was submitted by Patricia S. and Neil R. of Washington Crossing, PA., animal lovers and huge Mutts fans.

Austin Powers, AKA “Professor Chompers”, is a 15+ year-old male feral cat. He wandered around our property for years in search of food. He was caught in a Havahart trap in September 2002. In the beginning, he had trouble eating due to a bad tooth, laid around a lot and was severely underweight. Since Patricia caught him, he has had that tooth pulled and has been restored to full health, as well as getting all his vaccinations up-to-date.

We named him Austin Powers after the Mike Myers movie character because of his bad teeth. He has an interesting habit of moving his mouth like he's talking for a minute or two at a time. We figure that he has accumulated a lot of wisdom through his years which he gives when he chomps, hence his alias, Professor Chompers. He is pictured in mid-chomp.

*Update: We are sad to report that Austin died of natural causes on July, 20, 2005. We wish his family the best.

Dearest Daisy!

Alex Boyd of Champaigne County, IL, had this to tell about his shelter experience:

My name is Alex, I'm 25 years old, and I teach English at a community college. Here is my shelter story:

Last spring, I was doing some volunteer work at my local animal shelter (the Humane Society of Champaign County, IL). I had already adopted 1 dog (Sunny, a six month old lab/pointer mix) and two cats (Emmett and Emily, 1 and 7 year old domestic longhairs, who came from the same household and had to be adopted as a set because Emily cries when they are separated) from the shelter and was not planning on adopting any more, even though I was often tempted when volunteering.

All that changed one day when I was sitting at the shelter's front desk and saw a police officer walking a liver-and-white ticked pointer through the front door. I don't know why, but I turned to the person sitting next to me and said, "If that dog's owners don't come to claim her, I want her." She was scared, very thin, and smelled bad. I was sitting on the floor petting her when the police officer explained that they had fished her out of a drainage ditch.

At first, it didn't look like I was going to get to keep her—we had a lost report for a male pointer, and when we called, just in case, we discovered that they weren't entirely sure which of their dogs was lost—they could be missing a female instead. When they came in, sure enough, my dog was their dog. The dog did not seem very happy to see them, and stood at the very end of her leash, as far away from them as she could get. The shelter employee told me, "If you really want to keep this dog, I'll see what I can do."

It turned out that the original owners were not all that keen to have their dog back, since she was gun-shy and not very good for hunting, and was getting a little old for breeding. When they found out that they would have to pay heavy fines for allowing their dog to run loose and for not having her licensed and vaccinated, and that the shelter already had a home lined up and would not put her to sleep, they decided to give up the dog. After giving her several baths, I took her home that same night, and took her back to the shelter to be spayed a few days later. (Normally the shelter requires animals to be fixed before they leave or that the adopter use their own vet, but since they knew me they allowed my new dog to leave and come back for surgery.)

Since Daisy had been an outside dog all her life, housebreaking her was a bit of a challenge, but eventually she caught on. And I will never forget her joy when she discovered how to jump onto the bed. She is a bit neurotic from her hard life—afraid of thunderstorms and obsessed with kittens—but she is a wonderful pet.

Shelter Twins

Dana Brown recently sent us the following, heartwarming story.

Long before Chickpea and Her Brother appeared in “Mutts” there was another pair of golden tabby siblings looking for a home.

In the summer of 1985, before many muttscomics.com members were born, I was a young mother with two sons: Ian, 5, and Alex, 2-1/2.  Almost a year before, my beloved red tabby, Rocky, had died of kidney failure, and I was heartbroken.  Our other cat, Pixie, was alone.  So one day I asked Ian if he’d come with me to the West Los Angeles Animal Shelter to choose a new companion for Pixie.  We proceeded to the Shelter with one carrier.  There we saw a pair of lively littermates, 10-12 weeks old, in a cage together.  I said to Ian, “Well, we have a girl cat at home: shall we take the boy?”  He thought for a couple of minutes, and said, very seriously, “Mommy, wouldn’t it be a shame to take the brother without taking the sister?”  Out of the mouths of babes, as they say.  So of course we headed home with two happy kittens.  And two little boys were thrilled to have new, soft, funny, purring members of the family.  (Pixie, who I’d rescued years before from a dumpster, was less than thrilled—but coped.)

We gave the kitties easy-to-remember names:  Goldy for the girl, Tigger for the boy.  My sons, already very close, had their own relationship reinforced by their cats’ loving behavior.  G&T groomed each other, slept cuddled so close that they looked like one giant cat, and ate and drank from the same bowls.  Whenever they had to be boarded, they stayed in an enclosure together.  Their personalities were different:  Goldy was so sweet; she never once scratched, bit, or hissed at anyone.  Tigger, sweet too, was also incredibly smart:  could stretch up and push down on handles to open doors, could detect ice cream being served from several rooms away, and was a willing, friendly ambassador to visitors.  Both cats were muses to the kids with their homework and piano playing, collapsed many Lego structures, and knew when the kids needed to be comforted.  No night went by without G&T sleeping with the kids; until the boys were 13 and 11, all four of them shared a room, you could say.

After 10 years had elapsed, Pixie was gone, and a friendly neighborhood tuxedo kitten, already named Gizmo, adopted us.  But Pixie and Gizmo were “my” cats, whereas Goldy and Tigger were the precious pets of Ian and Alex.

With very heavy hearts, we said goodbye to Goldy in January 2002, when she was 17+.  Tigger never got over her death, and, for the next year and a half, wandered around the house, meowing very loudly, looking for her.  It was devastating for us when we had to bid farewell to him last July, at the age of 18+.  Alex, by then a man of nearly 21, held Tigger in his arms as we wept and our vet ended Tigger’s struggle.  

Goldy and Tigger enriched our lives and taught us things no parent, institution, or instruction could.  Simply put, for me, the “golden years” were when we had our golden tabby cats.  They will live in our hearts forever.

Sincerely and with love for all pets,

—Dana (aka “ShweetLady)

P.S.  I never thought of going to a pet store, because I disliked the way the “living merchandise” there was caged—besides, my childhood cats had been adopted from neighbors, or as strays.  I expect to “steward” cats for the rest of my life, and will make sure that I rescue or adopt them—or they adopt me.  Shelters rule!  Please adopt from them, and support them. 

P.P.S.  Another note:  a caring veterinarian is worth his/her weight in gold.  Such a person is our vet-for-life, Dr. Richard Palmquist of the Centinela Animal Hospital in Inglewood, California, who is a hero and all-around wonderful human being!

Dobby is One Magical Cat!

Karin Mielack recently sent the following story.

My name is Karin and I live in Berlin, Germany. I am an engineer, and work in a small company which produces parts for power stations. My daughter is named Jennifer, and she is 19 years old. Our cat is named Dobby, like the house elf from Harry Potter. I gave him this name because of his very big ears. I don't know how old he is. I was told that Dobby was 6 years old when I adopted him, but I don't believe that because he is so playful. Dobby also has a tattoo in his ear. He was formerly an alley cat. In Germany, shelters will often catch alley cats, sterilize them, and release the cats again. In order to know which cats have been operated on they give them a tattoo (only a spot).

But when they found my Dobby he was sick, so they took him back to the shelter, where I soon found him. It was discovered Dobby was positive for FIV, but the moment I saw him I knew I wanted him, regardless of his illness.

In the beginning of our relationship Dobby was very vicious. His experiences with people had not been good ones I imagine. He would come after me, and dig his crawls into my skin. He also had a voracious appetite, and wanted food every hour. The moment we gave it to him it was gone in no time. But after a year of patience and love he became familiar with us.

Dobby is now very talkative and playful. He meows (in german we say "miau") everytime he sees somebody walk by. Due to his illness, he is not allowed to go out, but thankfully he has yet to show any signs of the illness affecting him. My daughter Jennifer also loves Dobby. He sleeps at her feet every night (when she is home, otherwise he sleeps at my feet). In June he will have been here for two years. He has put on lots of weight, and he's become civilized.

Before Dobby I had another cat for over ten years. His name was Jamie, and he was also adopted, in 1991.

I had been visiting the shelter only for fun. It was a special visiting day — I don't know the word, it is something like "Open Door Day". While I was strolling to the cat house an employee came down from the hospital, and I saw Jamie in his arms. I followed them, and the man put the cat in a box, and I forced him to take away the name plate with all the information of the cat, so nobody else could adopt him. I bought a transport box and paid for the cat immediately — and Jamie was mine!.He was a very nice cat. But I couldn't take him on car trips often as he used to become very, very sick. That was the only problem I had with him. He had a very nice life with us. He died when he was 14 years old.

—Karin

Bumper is the Best!

Michele and Bart Boutwell live in Jacksonville, Florida, and are the proud Mom and Dad of 6 rescued kitties and a rescued bunny. Michele is a Quality Manager and Bart is an IT Director.  Both love Mutts and work hard to feed their zoo crew! Yesh!!!!!!!!! They write:

Bumper came to us in September 2003.  He was a skinny, homely tom cat — tattered ears and patchy fur.  He was so thin, we just had to feed him when we found him hovering around our garbage cans.  We named him Bumper because of the way he "head butts" us to show affection.  After a week or two of daily meals and fresh water, he trusted us enough to walk into our kitty carrier and allow us to take him to our vet.   

He was a scant 6.7 pounds, and the poor little guy tested positive for FIV.  The vet wanted to know if we wanted him "put down".  After much crying (Michele), we decided to give Bumpie a chance, but, not wanting to infect our other 5 kitties, we decided to build him his own apartment in our converted garage.

Bumpie now has his own space, with heat and a/c, of course, a futon couch/bed, TV and DVD, plus a window seat on the world.  We found out a few weeks after bringing him home that Bumpie also has a bad case of heartworms. We have taken him to specialists to explore surgical options, but it looks like his only chance is to fight it out.  We give him daily medication, and more love and affection than he has ever known.  He is the most precious pumpkin in the world—he never loses his good humor and fun loving attitude. Last vet checkup, Bumpie weighed in at 15.2 pounds, and our vet is constantly amazed by how good he looks, how well he's doing, and how well he is handling his myriad of illnesses.  He is a miracle kitty, and we are happy to have him for as long as he's allowed to stay on earth.  :-) Love conquers all!

*Update: We are happy to report that Bumper is in his 18-month of being "heart-worm free," and being weened of his medication regime. Bart and Michele have also fostered 6 more kittens who became stranded in their backyeard during the Florida hurricanes this past September. Keep up the good work guys!

Voodoo and Shogun Steal the Show!

We recently spoke with Tim Dagg about his adopted cats Voodoo and Shogun.

Tim Dagg is a 33-year-old computer artist who works for an international newspaper located in Winnipeg, MB, Canada. His cats, Voodoo and Shogun, are two shorthaired domestic cats rescued from a local shelter in May 2000.

Tim says his experience at the shelter left him "nothing shy of wanting to take all the animals home with me," though one thing in particular stood out—Tim remembers that the shelter wouldn't permit him to take home the kitten he originally wanted. Apparently, the cat had a respiratory infection and adoption wouldn't be permitted without a vet's clean bill of health. "I thought this was very responsible of them," Tim said, "as other places don't do that."

Regardless of that minor disappointment, today Tim is very pleased with his choice. "My cats are my best friends," Tim said. "They are friendly, playful, and spirited. They are indoor cats and have only been outside in a travel kennel. Their favorite time of day is when I'm going to bed, as they will curl up in my arms untill I go to sleep, and then they get up to play for the night. "

We can understand your satisfaction, Tim. From the photos you sent us, it appears yours cats are as photogenic as they are nice!

Sage Jacobs sent in the following story.

"I help with party promoting and PR for BARC Shelter in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, NY, and also run a program that provides hand-knitted, crocheted, sewn or store-bought blankets for NY shelter animals, called the Critter Knitter Coalition. It is our goal to not have any city shelter animal have to sleep on cement, concrete, metal, or newspaper. These blankets provide much-needed security, comfort, and warmth, and also give the shelters a 'homey' feel, thus making shelter animals more adoptable.

"My two cats are named Sadie (otherwise know as Tayto) and Dahlia. Both were adopted from Whiskers Holistic in Manhattan. Sadie's paperwork says the CACC, and I believe she may have been pregnant when the CACC found her, which was probably her only saving grace as she had an eye and nose infection, which Whiskers was treating when I adopted her. Dahlia is feral and probably was a feral kitten and was adoptable. She has made great improvements at being socialized, and after a year, finally likes to be stroked! It is wonderful to watch her change and enjoy finding out about humans more. It has been extremely rewarding.

"Both cats are calico, the first I have ever had, even though I grew up with at times almost 30 cats in my house! (My mother has run an animal shelter in Randolph, NJ, since I was born 31 years ago).

"Sadie is an older cat, and I cannot say enough great things about older shelter animals! Although kittens are adorable, the energy they take is too much when you work the amount of hours I do. Sadie is my forever companion, sleeping on my bed, head, or pillow about 21 hours a day and loves being as close as possible to me and my boyfriend. I cannot imagine a better cat—quirks, lovebites, and all! And older cats are so appreciative of being adopted that you can see that appreciation in everything they do. Everything about Sadie says she is thankful for being brought into a loving home after being in shelters for what appears to be three years.

"I think people should join in the 'chain reaction of compassion' and adopt animals ONLY from shelters or rescues. Purchasing an animal from a breeder or a pet store treats a living being as a commodity, allows puppy mills to keep existing, and also kills a shelter animal waiting for a home. At least 15% of all shelter animals are purebred, if that is what someone is looking for, and they can go on petfinder.org and find a love connection with any color or type of animal of their desire. Anyone who is thinking of using an animal as a status symbol should instead buy a Prada handbag! Adopting an animal is a LIFETIME COMMITMENT. Also, helping shelters in whatever capacity someone can (donating toys, food, handmade blankets, or gently used towels/blankets; walking dogs, petting cats; sending money) is a blessing, as almost all animal shelters are poorly funded and rely on the generosity of volunteers and people who care to keep their electric bills for the kennels paid, etc.

"Also, no human is without his or her quirks, so why should be expect that from our companion animals? It is great to embrace the little aspects of an individual's personality that make that animal different from every other animal. Who wants a Stepford pet, anyway? I'll take the quirks and issues of my animals any day!

"Sadie loves to sleep on my head and hates the sound of trucks outside the window. She does not like to go beyond the bedroom. Dahlia is very curious and loves to explore and play and watch people eat. She likes Kale and chewing on anything plastic. Especially at four in the morning. She used to love to sleep by the garbage, reminiscent of her feral days outdoors, but now loves her fleece bed. She is making break-throughs every day and I believe she will one day too join her sister Sadie in sleeping on the bed with us. I cannot imagine my life without them. How did I exist before?

"Thank you for this opportunity to talk about the beautiful experience and blessing of being part of shelter animals' lives. I hope your Shelter Stories encourage more people to adopt.

"I live in Brooklyn, NY, and am working towards making change in the way all animals are treated. I hope others will join in making a difference, too. "

—Sage Jacobs
Founder, Critter Knitters Coalition
Mother of Sadie and Dahlia, two beautiful shelter cats

Zack is One Hot Dog!

Heidi sent in the following story.

"My name is Heidi and I live in New Bedford, MA. I have a mini black and tan dachshund named Frodo. I purchased him from a local reputable breeder about five years ago. My husband and I kept Frodo 'intact' because we intended to bring him back to the breeder and have her use Frodo as a stud—with the intention of bringing home one of his pups.

"Then I stumbled across petfinder.org on the Internet. Once I saw all the unwanted dogs I could not bring myself to breed my dog. So I started my campaign to bring home one of these unwanted dogs. Thankfully, Petfinder has great search features. Not only could I specify that I wanted a dachshund, but I could narrow the search to dogs in my area. I was amazed and saddened at the number of dogs available. I kept showing my husband the pitiful pictures and reading the sad stories of these dogs lives. Eventually he decided he'd like to take one of the rescued dogs home. Finally we found Zack. (Zack's photo was taken by a woman who, on her own, goes from pound to pound taking photos of dogs and posting them on petfinder.)

"Zack was listed as being at the Animal Control for West Warwick, RI. He wasn't at a shelter, he was in a pound—so his time was definitely short. Local pounds have such limited space they don't keep dogs for very long before putting them down. My husband and I rushed to the pound to see Zack. We were told that Zack was about five years old and his owner had to give him up. Supposedly, the owner had Zack (a red mini dachshund), a poodle, and two cats—the owner's apartment building was condemned, and when he moved he could only take one of the dogs with him. So Zack was given to the pound. I could not leave this poor frightened creature there, so we took him home that day.

"The people at the pound were so glad he found a home they did not charge us a fee. We asked if we could give a donation, and they said it would have to go to the town—and they were uncertain if the money would make it back to them. We asked what they needed—they said they could always use more dog food. So we did the paperwork to take Zack home—then ran to Walmart and got some food for the shelter. Then we were on our way home.

"We had no idea what Zack's life was like or what shape he was really in—boy were we in for a surprise. We noticed a horrible stink about the dog... and when we got him to the vet we learned that was because his teeth were rotting out of his head. The vet neutered him and had to remove all but five of Zack's teeth. The vet estimated Zack is about eight years old. (I'm convinced that Zack was given up because he was ill from the rotting teeth—and the pain changed his disposition. Imagine what routine vet care could have done for this dog.) That was in February of 2003.

"Zack is a new dog today. He is completely healed and healthy. He loves to snuggle and sleep on you whenever you sit down. He romps and plays like a puppy—probably making up for lost time. Even without teeth, he can chew biscuits. He sometimes steals Frodo's nyalbone from him to chew on. Whenever I hear someone considering purchasing a dog—I pull out the picture of Zack and tell his story. Maybe I'm a bit of a petfinder zealot, but I can't help it —look at my sweet little Zack! "

Strider's Up A Tree!

Vicki E. Jones of Homewood, IL told us about her energetic Strider.

Strider is an English Coonhound—maybe part Treeing Walker—we don't know. He is now probably 8 & 1/2 years old, or older.

Christmas week of 1999 we adopted him from a small no-kill shelter in the middle of nowhere. He came in as a stray and had been there 8 months.
Local shelters didn't have an adult, housebroken, neutered male hound that month, and we were looking for one, since we had lost our elderly Beagle-Bassett to cancer in early December.

Coonhounds don't take well to being confined to a pen or cage or crate. Often they may be overly eager and hard to walk on a leash when they are first out by a new owner. But we could see that Strider had a great personality, so we adopted him.

Coonhounds are also known to be loud, but we were used to that because our Beagle-Bassett had a loud Bassett-type voice. They naturally discourage intruders from homes, because of their loud voices, which we appreciate.

He is very affectionate, enthusiastic, and wags his tail more than any other dog I've ever seen. When he gets really excited, he sometimes wags his tail in circles.

He came to us fully trained, neutered, and respectful of food on the table—a rare quality. He was well-behaved and eager to please, other than the power surges on a leash when he spotted "game" (we are not hunters.) We have a large, fenced yard, which he needs, and are walking distance to a fenced 2-acre dog park, which he loves.

Two months after adopting him, we were quite surprised he ended up in a tree! He saw a squirrel run up a tree with a low "crotch," and since he was being walked on a retractable leash, he went up after the squirrel! You can see him in another tree when he went after something tasty. Fortunately, he never tried to climb our 5’ high back-yard fence!

Las Vegas Kitties!

Mandi & Lou Gervasio of Las Vegas told us about their lovable rescue kittens.

Mandi & Lou Gervasio, ages 45 & 50 respectively, were adopted by Jorge & Moose on March 11, 2006 from the Heaven Can Wait Animal Shelter in Las Vegas, NV. Our boys are twins born March, 2005 and have eased the pain of losing our beloved Mimi kitty, age 20. There is no greater joy than two purring fur balls!

And remember this: thousands of years ago, cats were worshipped as gods. Cats have never forgotten this...

Two Dogs Are Better Than One!

Thirteen-year-old Stella sent us a story about her passion for all animals, especially Mitzi and Ralphie.

I'm growing up in a family that has always had dogs. Since before I can remember, we've always had at least one dog in our household, sometimes seven dogs at once. Our dogs were never from pet mills or breeders. They were always abandoned or neglected dogs. Dogs adopted from the pound or another shelter in town, some found wandering in the neighborhood. I've always had a soft spot in my heart for adopted animals. That's why when we're thinking about adopting, we always turn to the pound or the Humane Society first.

In 2004, we lost our beloved Gracie, a shelter dog. For a few months, we had just one dog, Jakey, our precious twelve-year-old mutt adopted from the shelter ten years ago. The day before school ended that year, I was going home with my best friend Mila, another avid animal lover. Mila knew I was just itching to get a new dog as a companion for myself and our other dog. I had been sidling up to my mom, dropping not-so-subtle hints that I was enthused about the prospect of a new dog. On the drive to Mila's house, I realized we were heading to the pound, not Mila's house. Mila's mom had a grin on her face as we pulled into the parking lot. Eagerly, we all went inside and began pouring over all the dogs.

We went inside and almost immediately I spotted her. She was a black and white Chihuahua mix, trotting to the front of her kennel when she saw me coming. Her curly tail was wagging furiously and she was sporting a grin. I knelt down beside her and stroked her fondly through the wires. She was perfect for me in every way. After goggling over her for a while longer, we had to leave. Her adoption date wasn't until the next day, so I couldn't claim her yet. So we got her tag number for the next day. She whined at us when we walked away.

When we got to Mila's house, I immediately made calls to my parents and informed them about her. They both folded easily and agreed that I could adopt her. My mom arranged to sign adoption papers for her the next day, since I would be in school. All through the school day I couldn't focus. I only had attention for my new dog waiting for me. When I got home, my mom announced that she had signed adoption papers for... two dogs!? When she had come to claim my dog, she had spotted a orange, scruffy terrier mix in the quarantine section. He was very sweet and energetic. She was told he was only there because he had an owner that was supposed to come pick him up. The owner never did, so he was free to be adopted. They just hadn't moved him yet. My mom had fallen in love with him and decided to adopt him too.

The next day was the first day of summer. My mom, sister, and I rode with Mila and her mom to go pick up the dogs. Mila wanted to be there with us when we picked them up from the vet's office. Both dogs got along with Jakey. My sister named the terrier Ralphie. I named the Chihuahua Mitzi, because we have a friend named Mitzi who has a dog named Stella, which is my name. Mitzi and Stella, Stella and Mitzi.

Mitzi and Ralphie compliment our household perfectly. We've had them three years now and we couldn't ask for better dogs. Mitzi is like my other half. She loves to go on skates along the river, nap with me, and play with me. She and Ralphie play a lot, jumping around on the furniture and chewing on each other. Ralphie is more of a handful than Mitzi. He is a little paranoid about strangers. But through our love and caring for him, he has become more relaxed and is much better about meeting strangers, be they other dogs or other humans. Ralphie loves bike rides, playing ball, curling up next to you, and being held like a baby in your arms. I've worked with both Mitzi and Ralphie in 4-H. They know basic commands now and are much more obedient. I showed Ralphie at the Pima County Fair last year and we did fairly well.

I'm so grateful that Mila's mom took me to the pound that day. I've found the two dogs that bring so much bliss and joy to my life. I couldn't be happier with them and how they've completed our family.

Litte Georgia Rose Finds A Home

Elizabeth Hanafin, a proud Army wife who loves animals, tells us the story of how she and her husband Joshua rescued Georgia Rose in the state she’s named for.

The day before Halloween 2006 my husband Joshua and I and went with some friends to a Haunted Forest attraction here in Georgia. When we arrived, my husband noticed a little dog come out of the trees. After we went through the forest and had our fun, we were standing in the parking lot talking with our friends. My husband saw this little dog again, and called to her. She came over, very timidly, and laid her head in Joshua's hand. She was the saddest looking puppy in the world. I asked Joshua if he thought she belonged there, on the property, and he assumed so. “Well,” I said, “they aren't taking very good care of her.” We could see her ribs and hipbones a bit too much. We were getting ready to leave, when the owner of the property walked by and said "If you want that little dog, you'd better take her home. You know what'll happen to her if she stays here, she won't make it." We already have a German Shepherd and a cat, but we thought we could find another home for this little doggie. All that we really knew was that she couldn't stay where she was!

To make a long story short, no one, NO ONE, wanted her. After our landlord said "absolutely!" to keeping her, we decided that this little dog belonged with us. Our main concern was Hildegard, our 7 year-old German Shepherd who we've had her since she was 8 weeks old. We would never want Hildy to feel slighted or unloved. However, the dogs seem to have taken to each other, and Desperado the cat is getting used to her. No hissing in 2 days! Woo hoo!

From what we can piece together, this little dog is a 7-month old hunting hound, mostly redbone coonhound and either beagle or bird dog (we're waiting to see how long her legs get before we decide!). We have found that there is a sad practice with hunters here in Georgia where if a dog gets away, is spooked or gets lost, often the hunter will simply leave it in the woods. He can always get another dog. These dogs are simply tools that are broken, and disposable and replaceable. Not all hunters do this, but enough do, apparently. There is also a practice known as "culling" where if a dog isn't working out to be a hunting dog, it will either be shot or sent away. If the dog returns, it is not fed, and will eventually starve. The hunters also keep the dogs hungry, and they don't want gentle dogs, so that they will go chase. (Again, not all, but enough do this.)

We think, from her reactions to loud, sharp noises, that this little girl may have been on her first hunt and is possibly gun shy. All we really know is that this little puppy was left alone, in the cold dark Georgia woods.

She is home now, happy and warm and loved. I've included some pictures of her. She is being crated inside for house training, but she has plenty of outside playtimes and much love. Our German Shepherd is getting even MORE attention if that is possible! Our little Georgia Rose is home. 

A Poetic Kitten Moves In

Michele Broton, who loves animals so much that she has three cats and a turtle despite an allergy to any animals with fur, remembers her first meeting with this expressive little cat.

This is Emily. As you can see, she likes to take a unique view of the world.

I met Emily on a Friday night, as I returned home from a poetry reading. As I walked up to my apartment complex, this skinny little thing came right up to me. My neighbors had put out food for her, but were afraid to bring her inside because they had two small children.

She let me pick her right up and leaned against my neck like she was happy just to have someone be nice to her. I took her upstairs with me, but, because I already had two cats, I had to keep her in the hallway in a carrier overnight.

When I took her to the vet, he determined that she was about 7 months old, but she barely weighed 5 pounds. She was literally a skeleton with fur. She had a respiratory infection and she was extremely malnourished. When I brought her home, I had to keep her separated from the other two cats so that they didn't catch her cold and so she would have time to gain some strength.

That was two years ago. Emily (named for Emily Dickinson) now weighs a healthy 10 pounds and at her last checkup was declared a very healthy little cat. She's a precocious bundle of energy whose greatest joy is chasing her much bigger brother Jack around the house at top speed and jumping up out of nowhere to scare the daylights out of her older sister Luna. She has made friends with a squirrel who likes to peek in the window at the cats. For all of her high energy, she is the gentlest cat I've ever met.

And, whenever she encounters something new or different, she first looks at it and, then, she tilts her head almost upside down and looks at it that way.

Conrad Teaches A Lesson In Kindness

Sara Michelle Clark, a photography student from Los Angeles sent us this story about with the love of her life: a German Shepard named Conrad.

Every day on the way to school I would see a lonely dog walking around the streets, lost and without a home. I promised myself that when I was older and could drive I would be the kind of person who would help those animals find their homes. I finally got my chance to live up to my promise, thanks to Conrad. On the cold day of January 14, 2006, when I was sixteen, I met Conrad. He was a mangy, skinny, hungry, German Shepard. He was so thin you could see his ribs peeking through his fur. On his backside there were small bald patches. I let him sniff my hand, and he licked it, so he seemed pretty harmless. I noticed that he had no collar, and there was no other person around for miles. I resolved to take Conrad home, so I could feed him and live up to my vow. I took my scarf off and used it as a leash to get him home.

The first thing my sister said when she saw Conrad was "He's ugly." I looked into the deep brown eyes of that skinny, street living dog and said "He’s beautiful." My mother came home and reminded me that my father said no more dogs, because our current dog Rachel was keeping him awake with her killer bark. I assumed her that I was going to find his home, but she told me that he had to be taken to the shelter by Sunday. When my father came home, he took one look at that poor starved homeless dog and forgot about his no more dogs policy instantly. Of course, I wouldn’t know my true father’s feelings until later, because at that time he said "No more dogs."

So, Sunday came, and I told myself over and over again that this was the best thing to do. That he would find a home, a wonderful home, and he would be happy. My father went with me to the shelter, and the volunteers looked at Conrad. They said he was old, and gave him the name "Gramps." I was angered by this and told them he was not old. They put him in one of the cages for the time being. As Conrad looked at me from inside that cage, I started to cry. Those sad eyes just broke my heart, and my father had to lead me out. I realized that I loved him, but I knew that my father would not allow another dog in the house. The shelter gave me a number to so I could check on him everyday. And I did.

Then a week later, my father called me into his room. He said that he felt sorry for Conrad, that he would have to spent the short (or so we thought) amount of time he had left in a shelter. He guessed that Conrad was 12 (took him to vet, vet said he was 7. My father does not regret his decision, though.) and would only live for a year at the most. He said that we would adopt Conrad and that I was to get an early seventieth birthday present: my own dog. I cried and hugged my father. We picked up Conrad later that day. And in December, I will have had him for a year. Conrad loves me, and is devoutly to his master, a typical thing of a German Shepherd. He sleeps with me on my bed at night, and barks at people who scare me when I walk him during the day. My father loves Conrad too, and plays with him every day after he comes home from work (in fact, the reason I named him Conrad was because it is German and my father liked the name). My mother warmed up to him and gives him ear rubs. I know that Conrad has changed my life, especially how, as a photographer-in-training, my Conrad has taught me that beauty exists in all things.

To me, Conrad is a symbol of every animal in a shelter (or on the streets, for that matter), because they all want to be loved, and have lots of love to give. I hope that every one of them has a story that ends in the arms of a loving owner, just like Conrad.