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When my daughter, Taylor, brought this tiny kitten in a box to the car when we were packing her up for summer break, we knew we couldn't turn her away.
At the time we thought we would take care of her and find her a home as my sister who lived with us was "allergic" to cats and we only had dogs....
This little kitten was only 2 1/2 weeks old and we had to bottle feed her every 3 hours and also teach her how to potty... this tiny 8 ounce miracle grew and prospered as did our love for her. My sister found that she was not having allergic symptoms at all and welcomed Pia as part of our family.
2 and 1/2 years later this beautiful intelligent cat is soo entertaining and loving and we don't know what we would do without her... We also have added two more stray kitties to our household and with 3 rescue dogs - we are one big happy family <3 .
My dog of 15 yrs passed away in June and I had been sad and bitter since then. On October I noticed poop buried in my flower beds outside and I was angry. A few days later I heard a cat meowing and I went outside with a broom to scare it away. I yelled at the cat and it ran away. Yes! But then I noticed a kitten was there. So small it could barely wobble. I felt bad and went inside the house. About 1 hr later I went back outside and the kitten was still there. The mom didnt come back for the kitten. I felt so bad and guilty that I couldnt leave the kitty alone outside. I brought it in and noticed how beat up the kitty looked. One eye was infected, fur was filthy and smelled like poop. I felt that taking it to the vet would heal my guilty conscience. At the vet the kitty got eye drops, deworming meds, and flea medication. As soon as possible I was going to leave the kitty back outside. After I washed her and cleaned her eye and made sure she had a full tummy. I noticed how soft, sweet, and small she was. I couldnt stop looking at her and how precious she was. The days passed and her eye infection was gone.By 7 days I was totally in love with her. My little Sahira. Her name means moon or running river. I decided to keep her and reasoned with myself that she would be much better and safer with me. Now I am a crazy cat lady. Sahira is spoiled rotten. She reminds me of how I took care of my dog when he was a puppy. Im not sad anymore and have accepted my dogs passing. I like to think that God knew I was hurting and asked the cat mom not to come back for her baby. I see the mom outside at nights and I always leave food for her.
One cold night my husband went outside to get something from his car and that is when our neighbors’ kids called him and told him that they noticed a small kitten under their stairwell for the past three days. My husband called for the kitten. The little one came out running towards him with a very tired soft meow. He was starving nothing but bones I think he had not eaten in over a week, abandoned, scared, very dirty, and very quiet. I gave him food which he inhaled and kept going for more, cleaned his eyes & face he started to purr very loudly and he snuggled on my chest and slept like an angel for what seemed to be his first good night sleep. Then we had to make a big financial decision. Do we keep him or do we try to find him a home? We have two cats of our own and any cat owner out there would understand that having the responsibility of three cats is financially draining. Plus one of our cats didn’t like Inka, a usual cat behavior so that was another factor to consider. But a look at Inka’s sweet face changed everything. I couldn’t think of him leaving our place and going through another traumatic experience. I could always feel and sense how he was longing for his mother. There were many sleepless nights as our cat Suki and our kitten Inka fought and hissed at each other. Still we decided to keep him and eventually when it was time we put a chip in him and also fixed him. Inka grew to be a big handsome boy, he is now a year and half old. So cute, joyful, and playful always hungry for human food in addition to cat food. Inka loves to sleep next to me and put his arm around my neck like he is hugging me. I never regret keeping him in my family. Is the story over? No yet. Please keep watching for part II to know what an amazing cat Inka turned out to be.
About a year ago my husband wanted another cat, he went to the shelter we had gotten our last cat. As he was walking in a lady was dropping off a box of kittens and he fell in love with kenobi. He brought her home in a box. I called the vet and got an appt the next day. They ran all the test and gave her her shots. Later that day we found out kenobi was feline leukima positive. We've kept her healthy and happy. We spoil her. I would hate to think if she had stayed at the shelter she might have been euthenized.
In March 2012 I lost my love - a black cat named Juliet. Juliet was the first cat I truly called my own: I took care of her; she followed me when I moved 1000 miles away; she slept on my pillow with me and the dog. At 13 years, she had acute kidney failure. The vet and I tried to make her better but after a few days, her condition didn't improve. I had to make the painful decision to end her suffering. Having an outside cat disappear is one thing but holding your cat of 13 years in your arms as she breathes her last breath is a most painful, heartbreaking experience. I cried for a long time. I assumed I would eventually want another cat but I didn't know when I would have room in my heart for another. A couple months after losing Juliet, my mom had a co-worker looking to re-home a white cat. I met the cat and she was beautiful. We liked each other. However, I realized I wasn't ready to open my heart and connect with a new cat, even if it was of a completely different color. You see, Juliet was the second black cat in my life. I gave up on thinking I would get a new cat. Then, Oct. 2012, a little black kitten showed up outside the house. How strange! To this day I don't know where he came from! After a quick struggle, I got the kitten inside and he was a total love. We instantly bonded and it felt right. Dexter is the black cat that showed up out of the blue, but with perfect timing. Since then I've added to the family with another black kitten rescue. Love my black cats - always and forever.
This is Trooper. He's a pit bull mix that we got seven years ago when he was two years old, hurt, and homeless. It had been a few years since we had a dog and my husband was really wanting one. I suggested going over to the shelter in the closest town, but he didn’t want to. There always seemed to be a stray or two in the area needing a home and he was hoping that just the right one would come our way. One Saturday morning I had to go into town and when I went outside, there was a dog in the garage. He didn’t have a collar on and he was obviously hungry and thirsty. I got him some food and water and hoped that he would still be there when I got back from town. He wasn’t but he returned two days later and was obviously in distress. I loaded him in the car and drove 15 miles to the closest vet who found that Trooper had an abscess caused by a pellet gun wound. I don't know how anyone could have abandoned or shot this wonderful dog. He's always happy and he loves everyone. My husband likes to go horseback riding in the woods and running along beside the horse is one of Trooper's greatest joys.
Our rescue received a call from one of the local vets we work with asking us if we would take on 2 cats left in a foreclosed home for a month without a source of food and water visible. They weren't sure how the cats survived other than sheer determination. They were no longer needed as evidence and didn't have anywhere to go so we agreed to take them to find them homes. They were very thin and emotionally damaged. Pixie developed food aggression from her trauma and had to be kept away from any other animals. We weren't sure how we would find a home that was ideal for a cat who craved human attention but hated any contact with other animals. Pixie got a Christmas miracle 3 weeks before Christmas after several months of no interest. A family who was looking at one of our other cats and found that it had just been adopted saw Pixie's profile and story and wanted to meet her even knowing the issues she had from the foreclosure. Pixie hit the jackpot! A family with boys to play with and 2 adults who adore her. She bonded with them immediately. They report to us that Pixie still gets nervous if she sees the bottom of her food bowl 3 years after being adopted. She also plays nurse and stays with anyone home sick from school. A happy ending to a horrible foreclosure experience for this lucky Calico. By the way, the other cat also got a great home too. They both are truly Happy Tails for our group.
A family friend was inundated with kittens in 2009 after 3 stray, pregnant females wandered onto their farm. I asked around at work and had a friend willing to take 4 as future barn cats. My Mom, an ex-vet tech, went up and selected 4 females (or so she thought). She warned me about this little black fiend who *might* be a boy with strong pelvic muscles. I wasn't worried since I wasn't keeping them. Then the little black one decided to make us its parents and we couldn't resist. We had a security door and it climbed up it one day only to proceed to climb back down with ease. I was shocked at the intelligence and we decided to keep it. We named *her* Maida after a favorite character from Charles DeLint. Not long after, I was playing with *Maida* and flipped her over to find 2 furry little testicles beneath. I laughed hysterically, said "well, you got us" and Maida become our beloved Milo. I never wanted a male cat for fear of spraying but he is my little playful lovebug and he is my husband's buddy. He is now best buddies with our pug/pomeranian mix and still sleeps on that chair.
After living alone for years, I finally decided to get my first pet. I ended up with a crush on a round-faced orange guy at a shelter; the website said he was 3 or 4 years old. When I drove down and met him, he was even handsomer than I’d imagined. I picked him up, and he put his nose to mine to check me out. I was in love.
After the mandatory waiting period, I came back to pick him up. As I was completing the paperwork, I noticed that his age was listed as 9. The staff confirmed that this was correct. We had one cat while I was growing up, and she died at 12. My joy and excitement drained away; I felt like I was stuck with a fragile, decrepit animal.
I will admit that the only reason I took him with me was embarrassment. I didn’t want to tell the shelter people that I was changing my mind and get in an argument. Mad at myself for not speaking up and deeply disappointed, I took the cat with me.
On the ride home, I almost turned back. Something in me, though, said to keep going, give it a night. When we got home, he trotted right out of the carrier and started exploring. All of my stress poured out into some tears. I curled up on the floor on my side, and he snuggled up against me, purring. I remember stroking him, laughing, and saying to him, “You’re staying, aren’t you?” It had been less than two hours, and he had made up my mind for me.
Gus has been with me now for eight months. He often wears me out, chasing plastic rattleballs and wrestling for possession of toys. He sleeps against my legs every night. He’s spends hours on my lap, kneading, licking, nestling, purring. I can’t get enough of his funny little snore.
I could not be happier that accidentally adopted an old guy!
We already had 3 dogs and 8 cats in our little suburban home, all but 2 being rescues. So when our neighbor was parading a 7 month old black & white desperate-looking puppy up and down the street saying he was going back to the shelter because he was "too much work" we told each other that there was no way we could take him in. 10 minutes later he was in out back yard making friends with our rescued girls. We named him Huckleberry Finn, the wanderer. For the first month he was sweet but did not bond. In the park he expected to leave with any adult who walked by. His affect was flat. We soon discovered that he was mind-numbingly destructive. He became ballistic at the sight of any 2-wheeled vehicle. He learned to dispense ice and water from the fridge. He opened the microwave door and smashed the glass tray. He got into the spice cabinet-you can imagine the mess. He ate record albums, precious mementos, mail, baseboards, shoes, hair dye, antacids, coffee mate, labels off cans. Two therapists and a couple of thousand dollars later, he's calming down. He's incredibly loving, smart, funny, and no matter what, he's an integral part of our family. Poor Huck-rough start but a bright future and wanderer no more.