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!
We have no idea her background nor exactly how old she is; we can't explain her head tilt completely, but man, did an entire animal hospital fall for a grungy gray face when it literally showed up at our door.
It was the beginning of July, not yet overly warm, when a client walked in around midafternoon and asked me if we going to do anything about "that cat?" Cat? What cat? I thought as I got up and went to our front door to find a partially hairless, skinny, gray cat standing on our welcome mat. She was looking right at me, head tilted, but otherwise seeming normal. I assumed she was a feral from the colony nearby and opened the door, figuring she'd run off when I reached for her... she came to me, putting her head toward my hand. Because of her unknown rabies status, I couldn't pet her as much as I wanted to and instead, scruffed her gently, brought her into our treatment room and passed her to our Rabies vaccinated staff.
10 days later, she was out of Rabies quarantine and 3 weeks after that, her tiny 4 pound frame was putting on weight and hair. We're now four months out and she's 7.5 pounds of long haired spunky hospital cat while we try to find her a good home.
Bugsy owes a lot to our friend Dr. Peterson. Bugsy’s previous owners wanted to euthanize Bugsy because he is deaf. But Doc persuaded them to let him find a home for Bugsy, which turned out to be us.
Our daughter Rachel fished Bugsy out of Doc’s truck while he was making a farm call for our horses. She just had to have him. Bugsy was a really funny looking puppy with one brown eye and one blue, and great big ears which, ironically, didn’t work. Bugsy also turned out to be extremely smart. Rachel taught him a variety of hand signals for 4H obedience, showmanship, and tricks. She took Bugsy to the 2005 Delaware County fair, where she won Senior Dog Care, as well as ribbons in obedience and showmanship.
Bugsy is 11 years old now and has a new job now that the kids are grown up. He is my faithful companion while I do farm chores and he takes every step with me while I work around the barn. He sleeps with me at night and I love him with all my heart.
Bugsy is a funny, bright and loving dog, and we are grateful for the chance to know and love him. Please don’t overlook dogs with “disabilities.” You might just miss out on the best friend you ever had.
I was stuck out in the snow, huddled under a lamp post in rural Pennsylvania. Because of an untreated skin disorder I was bald, and because of my tooth problems I was just skin and bones. After what seemed like hours, a car pulled up next to me and opened up the door. I jumped right in and began to purr and drool out of happiness. They said that my breath smelled like death, and I wouldn't stop sneezing, but they loved me anyways. They took me to a nice warm house and gave me all the food I could eat.
Unfortunately, they had a dog that was allergic to the ammonia in my litter box and could not keep me. Knowing that I had medical problems, and was an older lady, they were afraid to take me to the shelter. Luckily, one of their friends, a struggling college student fell in love with me and took me home to her house.
She took me to the vet and found out that I only weighed 4.5lbs. I had massive tooth decay that was causing infections and abscesses so large that I couldn't eat and would need all of my teeth removed. They said that I was possibly to old to even survive the surgery that I needed. My owner was so sad, she didn't know how she could afford the expensive surgery, or if I'd even survive it. That week her grandmother passed, and left her the exact amount of the surgery in her will. Taking this as a sign, she knew I had to have the surgery.
After I came home I became my loving, excitable, fat self again. It must have been years since I felt so happy and healthy. I even have my own room to lay around in and be the princess I was born to be.
In August, I lost my best feline friend of fifteen years, Niffy. I was devastated – I had trouble sleeping and focusing, and couldn’t stop crying. My husband wanted to get me a kitten to help ease my loss, but I told him that it was too soon, and probably would be too soon for years.
Meanwhile, at the apartment building where I worked the overnight shift, there was a notice to the residents to stop feeding the stray cat that had been hanging around. I had not seen or even heard about this cat, but that night, when I was doing some rounds, I saw her – this little scared, skinny lynx-point Siamese. She ran when she saw me, but I still had some of Niffy’s food in my car and left it out for her. Although I didn’t see her again that first night, the food dish was empty in the morning.
The following few days, I kept bringing food for the little stray. I soon realized that though she was skittish when approached, if I sat still and let her come to me, she would turn to purring putty in my hands with the first stroke of her fur. The first time I held her, I could feel my heart starting to mend. Within a week, I brought her home.
I named her Sookie, the Americanized version of Suki, which means ‘beloved’ and ‘happy.’ Sookie has been such a blessing – reminding my husband’s two cats how to play like a kitten, stealing stuffed animals, following me around the apartment, causing lots of mischief as she adjusted from being a scavenger to being a spoiled housecat. I thought I would never recover from the loss of Niffy, but it was almost as though Niffy’s spirit came back, found this ragged little stray, told her there was a girl who needed a cat, and led her right to me. I’m so thankful that Sookie and I met just when we each needed the other one most!
About 14 hours ago this little bottle baby was on its last leg. It was wet, covered in fleas, ice cold, anemic, motionless, and refusing to eat but now it has been bathed with dawn, blow dried to perfection, kissed to death, and fed until it's belly is stuffed. I'm pretty confident in saying it's a boy, this guy has come such a long way! I think Blizzard is gonna be just fine but I would gladly accept prayers for this little guy. We're hoping he can join his siblings in their foster home tomorrow if he remains healthy:)
My wife and I were married only a few years when we discovered that having a child of our own was not to be. I think the need to fill that missing void put us on a search for a puppy and one Sunday we stopped at a local animal Humane Society where we found our little boy Onyx. He was a lab/beagle/tasmanian devil mix who was the last of his litter with brown eyes that we just couldn't resist. Only one week later he became deathly sick and we discovered he had Parvo. The vets couldn't make any promises and we were faced with the real possibility we could loose our guy of only 8 weeks. After a few days of constant worry and not knowing if he would make it we got word that he had escaped his cage, was wondering around their kennel and we could come and get him...he made it! That was oh so many years ago and since then we created so many wonderful memories together, just the three of us. He became a constant loving companion, seeing every park and open field in Western Pennsylvania. Running and playing eventually became walking and limping as age began to catch up with him, but he was never in pain and even near the end enjoyed a good wagon ride on the bike trail with us. This past April, 16 years after our sweet boy came into our lives and filled a void we both needed so much, he made his journey over the rainbow bridge. Our hearts are both still so broken and his memory is with us always. Thank you buddy for making us a family and I know one day we will all be together again, running and playing as in days gone by and I will again feel your sweet kisses on my cheek. Till then, know "mom and dad" loved you so very much and you will forever be "our little boy."
8 years ago we were fortunate to find two loving siamese sisters through petfinder.com. They have been the most cherished animals in our household. In September of this year we opted to foster a new cat through dire circumstances. We followed the introductory rules per Jackson's guidance to no avail. We also purchased the oils he recommends. The new foster (ours now, as the previous owner has made no contact since) cat has been overly aggressive to our sisters. The aggression has gotten to the point where our once dominant cat is now cowering and is hissing at her sister.
We have recently starting a separation technique to try and regain self-esteem in our once dominant cat. She is doing better separated from what we call the "bully". We know this is not the right strategy but are at our wits end. We will never give the new foster up, but want peace between them. We feel horrible about the situation. Any help would be greatly appreciated.
I met 'Aspen', a Great pyrenees; while doing some art work for a veterinarian I knew.
He had come in as a 1 year old pup, and had just been through a terrible predicament.
His then-owner was a traveling salesman, and would leave 'Aspen' locked up either in the bathroom or a large dog cage. Finally the dog snapped and tried breaking out of the cage. He succeeded, but as he broke through the door he caught his lower leg tendon on a piece of the sharp metal.
After the Vet sewed him back together, the owner paid the bill, but said he no longer could care for the dog.
I always wanted a large dog, and it had been years since I'd had a 4 legger that I would be able to take for rides in the car, or play with on the beach.
I adopted him, changed his name to Leonardo Da Vinci, and he has lived 10 loving years with me and my family. He has a fenced in one acre lot to run and play, plenty of hugs and kisses, and 2 kitties who also adopted him.
Leo's getting old now, and entering his twilight years. But he will always live in our hearts, even after he's gone. He's my best friend, and still tries to greet me at the gate or the door, even though it's getting harder on those old legs.
We lost our first cat to cancer 4 years ago. That is when my feral calico kitty showed up. Over the years we fed, brushed, played and loved this sweet little girl, Cali, as she let us into her life. She had an insulated shelter under the screened-in porch in the winter and an open-air box with a sheepskin liner at other times. She would follow us around her yard and come when called. We worried about fox and other critters, but this feisty girl was almost always waiting at 5 am for breakfast and 5 pm for dinner, sitting on the porch and looking into the kitchen window.
My husband sat with her late at night when he went outside to pick up her bowls so the critters would not be enticed.
When we noticed Cali was not eating; my husband captured her and took her to the vet. After dental surgery and aggressive steroid treatment, she continued to lose weight. Her little FIV+ body could not fight any longer. I picked her up for the first time and held her close before we took her to the vet for the last visit. We love our three indoor cats; it's just heartbreaking to lose this special little calico girl. What a blessing to have loved her!
I didn't adopt Brian; Brian adopted me.
I live in Thailand, a country famed for it's sunshine, beaches and laid back lifestyle. It is also one of the street animal capitals of the world. When we moved into our new house, within a few days we noticed a dirty, oil-stained cat living under a car on the street outside our house. It didn't take him long to notice us either, and soon he was coming into our front yard, demanding strokes and love that I simply couldn't give him in his current condition.
What followed was a trip to the vets to have him checked over. The vet put him at around 8 years old - pretty good going for a street animal. A few quick tests confirmed that my new friend had feline leukemia that was already quite progressive. He also had an infection in his face from mites in his ears. He was generally in a bad way, and of course being the soft-hearted girl that I am, when we went home that day he no longer stayed outside but was welcomed into my home. Knowing that I live in a country that doesn't allow animals to be put down, I vowed to take care of him until the end.
I decided to call him Brian; it suited him. He had the attitude of a grumpy old man (wouldn't you after 8 years living on the streets?) but he loved a snuggle. As time went on, Brian's leukemia progressed more and more. He began to lose weight and lost the sight in one eye. But he kept on giving those snuggles until the very end. Our time together may have been brief but I am happy to have made his final year a happy, comfortable love-filled one.