no spam, unsubscribe anytime.
Our most inspiring stories come from you, our clickers. We love hearing about your rescued, adopted, beloved pets. Please click the button below to share your story with the world!
Jan-9-2015, Belize: Hi, my name is Smeagol. I was a baby kitten sitting on the edge of the road. My mouth hurt so bad, I was so hungry, I didn't care about the cars and motorcycles speeding right by me. Suddenly, a car stopped, and a human picked me up and put me inside. She knew something was wrong because I didn't run away when she drove past. So she went around the block and came back for me. I was so happy to be off that hot, dusty highway, I started to purr as I sat there on her passenger seat, as I listened to her calling her Mom, and kept purring as we went into the vet.
But it was really bad news. My jaw was broken, the bone was sticking out inside my mouth. It was badly infected and smelled so bad, it must have been broken for several days. That's how long I wasn't able to eat anything. I was covered with a crusty mixture of pus and blood and dirt because even though I was injured I still wanted to be clean and I had licked myself all over.
The vet said there was nothing they could do. They did not have any pin that small to fix my jaw, I was just too tiny and weak. But the human remembered how I had purred the whole car ride, and she just couldn't put me to sleep. She asked what would happen if they did nothing, and the vet said "how will he eat?". It was just destiny that the human had 2 tins of gravy catfood in her purse. I put my whole head in that tin and I nommed down that food! So it was settled, I would be given a chance. I went home purring with antibiotics and human hoping for a miracle.
As soon as we got home my eyes became so bright, she said I looked like Smeagol.
Eventually my jaw healed on it's own, slightly crooked, and I have a snaggletooth. But I love food and I love life!!!
After losing both my cat and dog, I was ready for a new pet. One January weekend I went to the local shelter to see the cats. A little cream cat had just come in and was terrified. I sat at the cage and talked to her for a while, and she tolerated me, though she was too scared to be friendly. I knew that we could help each other.
Rory spent her first few days at my house hiding behind the dryer. She would come out at night for food and to use the litter box, but I didn't see her for days. I'd use my phone camera and flash to take pictures of her behind the dryer to make sure she was OK. It was another week before she would approach me, but only when I was in bed at night. Eventually it became clear that Rory has very poor vision. Besides being cross eyed, she can't seem to see anything that is more than five feet away.
I think she had a neglectful family before the shelter. She was in good shape physically, but didn't know that people could pet her, or what toys were. She's made progress in the last four months, but it's like having two different cats. During the day she's fearful and hides from everything, including me. But as soon as I lay down at night, she curls up in the crook of my arm and purrs. She likes to be near my face, and will even sleep nose-to-nose with me. If I roll over, she jumps to my other side so I'm always facing her. In the morning, her toys are strewn all over the house. I hope that one day that sweet nighttime cat will also be the daytime cat. Time will tell.
The first place people around here think to take a 'found' or 'abandoned' animal is to our neighborhood Vet who will find them a home or take them home himself. Chee-Sy (sigh), a Japanese word that means "little", was found by one of the Vet Techs at our local Vet's office. A friend of hers saw a car stop at the end of their drive, open the door and put something out. They found a tiny female Chi Weenie puppy, full of fleas but otherwise in good health, around 5-6 months old. (A few months before, we had to euthanize our 16.5 yr old Chihuahua, Pica, because of her failing health.) We were taking a short vacation on the Gulf Coast so I arranged a time to meet this abandoned little girl when we got home. She was the opposite of our ladylike little black Chihuahua. Her fur was reddish blonde, she had been cleaned & prettied-up, toenails painted pink, and she had on a pink collar. A nice touch for this hybrid tomboy. Her ears were huge, paper thin, and stood straight up, her body was long with short legs and her tail curled tightly over her back. A real Chihuahua/Dachshund combo. I reached out to pet her and she immediately took my fingers into her mouth to say hello. She was housebroken and full of energy. I took her home after buying a bag of puppy food, treats, and making an appointment to get the rest of her shots. That was three years ago and although we still cry a little when we think of our cherished Chihuahua, Pica, we are constantly entertained by this feisty, friendly, fur kid we now fondly call Chee Chee. She has learned a few tricks and lets me know when the mail truck is close. We walk a mile each morning and a half mile each evening. I've even lost a few pounds! She chooses which side of the bed she wants to sleep on but usually wakes me up around 7AM for our walk. Life is good.
This is Kali, now I know this site is for rescue animals but her story...and mine need to be shared. When Kali was born (her mom is my moms dog) she wasn't breathing. Kali's mom had four puppies, two girls and two boys, Kali was the only white one and I knew as soon as I saw her she was mine. It was then that I noticed her mother wasn't interested in cleaning her, Kali just wasn't breathing, so I gently cleaned and performed CPR. Soon Kali was breathing and I was so happy. Kali and I became inseperable, she slept on my chest and was always by my side. In august of 2011 my mom and brothers moved out of the house we lived in. I stayed because we paid rent for the month of spetember and I was going to use the time to find a new place. On the 4th of september there was a knock on my door at about 2:30 am. I answered because I thought it was my roomate unable to get in because I locked the door. Instead I found one of my brothers friend, I let him in because I knew him well, Kali wouldn't stop barking and growling but I ignored her, then the guy attacked me, and raped me. Kali tried to save me but was thrown into a wall. After the rape I went upstairs, put a hot bath on and scrubbed until my arms, legs and everything else was bleeding. I wasn't thinking of evidence I just wanted it all to go away. Kali watched me with sad eyes and laid with me while I cried. This rape was the 4th time it happened. Twice when I was 12 and once at 18. I am now 23
A couple years ago I was diagnosed with PTSD, Bi-polar, Insommnia and excessive anxiety.I have flashbacks and nightmares Kali is aware, she then distracts me by jumping and licking. She has kept me alive and I'm not sure I could live without her. We have a happy life I love her.
The first time I saw my new boy was in my Facebook feed. My friend posted a picture of this tiny furball asking if anyone could take him. Her husband is a truck driver and he was on his way home one night in the middle of February from Wisconsin to Indiana when he stopped at a truck stop. He heard a tiny faint meow coming from his engine; he already drove over 200 miles since his pickup which meant this kitty hitched a very long and scary ride. He opened his diesel engine to find a tiny and scared little kitten, not 6 weeks old. Luckily for him he rode in the cabin the rest of the way home. Unlucky for him, that wasn't the worst part yet to come.
It didn't take much conjuling for my husband to agree to take another kitty into our home. We set a date to pick him up and that morning I was very excited. He was going to be delivered after 5pm. I got a call at 3pm. Something was very, very wrong with him. My friend's voice was panicked and worried. He has been having cluster seizures for 30 minutes. I told her to bring him to an emergency vet that was near both of us and that to tell him I will pay for everything when I'm there.
I prayed all the way the way there for my little guy to pull through and to just be OK at least till I get there. To my amazement, his seizures stopped shortly before I arrived and he was quickly seen by a vet. Nothing wrong, at least physically.They ran every conceivable test they could; nothing. He hasn't had a seizure since that awful day I almost lost him before I got him. Six months later, he is pure love, greeting me every day with love and affection. He's a little shy, understandably around loud noises and new things, but he's slowly breaking out of his shell. Naturally, his name is now Vin Diesel.
Normally, I come to the Animal Rescue Site to read, and cry over all the amazing rescue stories... Although I've rescued many of my own cats, today, I'd like to share the story of another kitty, his name is Oki, and his story is well worth sharing. Oki's owner, has also rescued several abused cats and Oki is one of those cats. This is Oki's story... http://www.gofundme.com/save_oki
The streets of Oman (a small country near Dubai) are a cruel place for dogs. Police shoot dogs and there are no spay and neuter programs or shelters. This hasn't stopped a small group of dedicated volunteers from working their tails off to make a difference. Gracie is one of those stories that keeps us all going. She was found starving, near death, and with a puppy who was also near death. As heartbreaking as it is, her other puppies were killed by children and teenagers who "didn't like" the dogs being around.
When she was found, she was terrified of everything. She would whimper and run at the slightest noise and especially fast movement. X-rays revealed a horrifying truth about Oman. Despite the horrifying ordeal, Gracie has learned to trust human and is enjoying life in her new foster home.
In 2008, winter was terrible. Schools closed early that year, and so, a feral cat family that live close to one was left starving. A woman who lived near by brought us the two kittens and kept the mother. They were 4 months old, and so malnourished, their head was as big as the body. The smaller one coughed blood. The vet saw him and realized he had cleft palate and needed urgent surgery, was surprised he was even alive. We named them Rimsky and Korsakov, to give them a musical name. They became part of our big animal family. Korsakov was more feral and eventually moved to our neighbor house. Rimsky was really small (5lb), had the nicest voice, and was the smartest cat I ever met. He had constant health problems due to the big hole in his mouth, so he was spoiled by everyone. He was loving, and had a different meow for everything and everyone; any dish left unattended was taken by him. He loved to steal things. From being a scared feral, he became a social cat who was happy with all the people and animals. He was always a bit sick, and had 5 surgeries, but he didn't care that much, he was always happy. He popped out of his nose bubbles every time he had milk. After the last surgery, he started to lose weight. On a closer look, it was obvious his kidneys were not functioning well. All of him was a bit frail, so at 4, he had the insides of a 12 year old cat. We tended him months, gave him fluids, food, medicines, but he was little by little becoming smaller and quieter. My mother made him a warm clothing, and his last month he was always above the heater, or inside my bed. As his sense of taste became affected. we gave him tastier food to keep him eating. Eventually, in the winter of 2013, he was gone. He had almost 5 years with us. I always get a smile when I remember him.
I had recently lost my grandmother back in 2012. She was my angel & it was a very difficult grieving process. So one morning I woke up after dreaming about her,for some reason I had a feeling that I just needed to go straight to the cemetery. So I quickly rushed to go visit her. I sat down beside my grandmother's grave & cried. I felt so lonely & my depression I've struggled with for so long seemed to be getting worst day by day. As I was crying & feeling hopeless, a beautiful thin black cat came towards me meowing. I didn't know he was a male at first because he was spayed. I thought it was a female cat. I discovered later that day that she was actually a he. He had a beautiful coat, but very thin. He didn't even have one flea on him. It was really weird & I even asked around if he belonged to anyone. He has an overbite which makes him look like a little vampire. It was simply meant to be, he was everything I've always wanted in a cat. I knew my reason for going to the graveyard that day, my grandmother had somehow sent him to me. If you believe or don't believe, here's one thing that's true, he rescued me and helped me with my depression. My boyfriend and I both named him Diablo Graves since Countess wasn't fitting for a male cat. He's now a spoiled house cat and sleeps with me every night. He protects me & helped me recover through the loss of my grandmother. He is my best friend & he even has a girlfriend named Gypsy Kitty Graves.
Between dumped critters and “misfit” cats my aunt adopted yearly, I grew up a cat lover. Country life is hazardous, and eventually she wanted an indoor kitten for me. A feed store bulletin board listed a foster home with calicos. We went for Hummingbird, a stunning tortoiseshell. She immediately crawled into my lap, but her heart murmur rendered her unadoptable. Her sister peered standoffishly from under the couch. Baby Ozzy was extracted. Butterfly became mine. Hummingbird passed peacefully.
Booders was often independent, distant, and some days downright spiteful, mellowing with age. She sometimes slept curled around my head, grumbling if I moved. “The old lady”, for her nagging yowl and crotchetiness, shadowed me, conversed, and curled up in my lap. Through growing up, an unfaithful military husband, and multiple moves (one overseas and back), she was there. Amusingly, she enjoyed hotel stays, often highly stressful times. I worried about her welfare more than mine. For 14 years she was my constant, and my spoiled baby. I knew I’d lose her eventually. I still wasn’t ready when it happened.
When I returned from a trip, she wasn’t eating much. This was regular, but she didn’t stabilize like usual. The vet followed. Unlike two months before, she was diagnosed with aggressive intestinal cancer. She had a lemon-sized mass. Even if she survived an operation, it’d likely return in under a year. She’d need endless visits and pills; she abhorred both. Only one option remained.
One week before Christmas, my beautiful Butterfly flew with Hummingbird. Thankfully she passed before my divorce, though I missed her. My little rescue saved me countless times. Sometimes I wake with my arm around where she would’ve slept, and I swear, there’s a whispered purr and her spot is warm. Like her place in my heart, furever.