Purr-Angels Shelter Blog

A Salute to Furfighters

2009-10-03T09:33:00.000-07:00

Now that fur season is coming to an end, Annie's husband, Hugh, will be home a lot more, which always brings a smile to Annie's face. Being quite a furfighter herself, running the shelter and all, she knows how hard it's been on Hugh, down in Southern California all summer, fighting all those wild furs. Listening to bits and pieces of their conversations through-out the summer, we've managed to learn quite a bit about all that Hugh and all those other furfighters go through, in those beautiful but remote hills and canyons of Southern California. Hugh said when those Santa Ana winds blow, the fur really flies. Our imaginations are left to fill in a lot of the blanks, but we have come up with a pretty clear picture of what it must be like down there during fur season.
Hugh said there are a lot of big, fancy homes down there, and we figure that's where a lot of the big Angora and other long-haired cats must live, sunning ... and shedding ... away in the blazing hot summers we're so famous for this time of year. Worse, it seems our own little Hugh Jr. has had a hand in it somehow, because Annie always asks, "Was it ar son?" when Hugh gets home, and at least half the time, he just sadly nods his head yes.

Hugh said that up to 80% of homes destroyed in the furs could be saved if people would only keep the brush cleared out from around their homes. Now, that just stands to reason! If everyone would gather up all those brushes and use them on their kitties at least once a day, that would stop a lot of that excess shedding and that would really cut down on all those wild furs, too! In the end, a lot of it just comes down to good grooming practices, doesn't it?

Another problem Hugh and the other furfighters encounter in Southern California is a lot of people seem to like to build their homes right on the edge of the hills. They say the view is better that way. But it makes it almost impossible for the furfighters to protect homes built on the edge of the hills like that, and when those big old furballs come roaring up the hillside, the house is almost always a goner. Apparently a lot of these wild furs could be purr-vented if the homeowners would exercise a few reasonable purr-cautions (and better cat grooming practices, of course). It seems like the only right thing to do, seeing how Hugh and the other furfighters put their lives on the line for us each and every day.

Before closing, let's take just a moment and recap:

1. Clear all brushes away from the front of your homes. (And use them ... no matter how much your cats complain!)
2. Don't build your homes on the edge of a hill where raging furballs will consume your house and put the furfighters at even greater risk.
3. Make your drive ways wide enough so that the fur engine can safely turn around while the furfighters work to protect your homes from all that fur.
4. And last but not least, if asked to evacuate your homes, GO! It makes the furfighter's job so much easier! (And don't forget to take your cats with you, too!)

Remember, the furfighters are our heroes! For example, last night our very own Hugh delivered a little baby while he was on duty at the fur station! ... that's pretty darn special, don't you think?.... and that's just one of the many other wonderful things that our furfighters do for you and me when they're not fighting all those gigantic furballs in the mean Santa Ana winds.

Remember ... Only YOU can purr-vent forest furs!

(As that old tom Smokey always says)

The War on Terriers

2008-06-27T14:54:00.000-07:00

My name is Sam and I am Annie's beloved Bulldog/Poodle Mix. (If you can't quite picture that combination, here is a recent photo of me):

The reason I am writing in the Kitty Blog today is this: I have been hearing a lot on TV lately about The War on Terriers, and I have become quite worried and concerned! Some of my best friends are Terriers, and to be quite frank, I myself could have just a wee bit of Terrier in my own family tree! I just want to go on the record as saying that Terriers are truly wonderful dogs, and no home should be without one!

As deeply concerned as I am regarding the War on Terriers, I find myself even more distressed over The War on Pit Bull Terriers! I've been doing some research lately, and I've discovered that there is a whole lot of bull being spread around out there about the Bulls. (I am particularly sensitive to bull, seeing as how I am part Bulldog myself.)

Here are just a few things that I've learned that I think everyone should know about these great dogs:

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The Pit Bull is probably the most misunderstood dog in the United States. This is due to a tragic lack of public education. Even worse, the public only sees negative stories in the news. Pit Bulls are wonderful dogs in the hands of responsible guardians just like any other breed.

Here are a few common myths regarding Pit Bulls:

Pit Bulls have locking jaws. This is not true! The pit bulls jaws are the same as any other breed of dog! Any Veterinarian can verify this is simply a myth. Although Pit Bulls who have been bred as fighting dogs have been TAUGHT not to let go, their jaws are NOT locked. There is NO SUCH THING AS "JAW LOCKING" IN ANY BREED.

Pit Bulls are born to be mean. Again, not true! Pit Bulls, like all other breeds, are NOT born inherently mean or bad! They can, like any other breed, become dangerous through lack of training, abuse, neglect and irresponsible ownership and breeding.

If a dog shows agression towards other dogs, he will go after people next. WRONG AGAIN! Animal-aggression and people-aggression are two distinctive traits and should never be confused. Unless they have been very poorly bred and/or specifically "trained" to attack humans (often by undesirable individuals through abusive methods), Pit Bulls are by nature very good with people. They are in fact one of the most loving, loyal, friendly, and dedicated companions one can have.

Please click here to learn even more about Pit Bulls!

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Well, Annie says it's time for my afternoon nap now, so I must sign off; but rest assured, I'll be dreaming of a better, more compassionate, world for us all. I'd really like to thank all the kitties for letting me borrow their blog today to get the message out that there are all kinds of wonderful dogs out there in need of a good home, too! Please visit your local shelter and adopt a homeless dog...possibly a Pit Bull and a Terrier!... today!

Many of us may have come from unhappy or abusive homes, and as a result, some of us may even be carrying around a little extra baggage...But if you take the time to peek inside, you'll find that we all come bearing many wonderful and precious gifts, too!

"If you talk with the animals they will talk with you and you will know each other. If you do not talk to them you will not know them, and what you do not know you will fear. What one fears, one destroys."

~ CHIEF DAN GEORGE

Little Purr-Vert

2007-01-04T13:09:00.000-08:00

Have you seen this cat?

This beautiful orange cat is named Little and he is approximately three years old. He is mostly orange with just a trace of white along the bridge of his nose and the tip of his tail. He is wanted for various crimes against purr-sons and other cats, too! He was last seen in Annie's closet.

Count One: Being a Purr-Vert

Little, A.K.A., Little Slugger, Little Man, Little Purr-vert, Little Troublemaker, and Widdle, has a very strong foot fetish and is known for attacking innocent feet and chewing on toes. His MO is stalking, lying-in-wait, and pouncing on his victims' feet when least expected. Although these purr-versions have caused no serious injuries to date, he has been known to make Annie emit blood-curdling yells that have caused serious alarm through-out the shelter, being as how our ears are quite sensitive to such unwelcome sounds.

Count Two: Being a Peeping Tom

Widdle also stands accused of hiding in bathrooms, skulking behind shower curtains, and spying from his perch within private dressing areas. Being the Little Slugger that he is, he has also been charged with repeatedly standing just outside our litter boxes, swatting at us as we go in or out, making a huge nuisance of himself and affording no-one an ounce of privacy.

Count Three: Being a Cat Burglar

Little Man lurks on dressers, countertops, and bookshelves, stealing miscellaneous knick knacks and souvenirs. Missing is one orange sock, a sterling silver ID bracelet, and a broken Timex watch.

Reward Information

If you have seen this cat, please contact Annie as soon as possible. We cats have gotten together to offer the following Reward for any information which leads to his capture:

1. One half-bald toy mouse.

2. A giant fur-ball that Annie missed while cleaning.

3. Complete "Miracle Cat Ear-Cleaning Kit"

4. Brand-New "Going to the Vet" Cat Carrier.

Annie said that when the Little Purr-vert is found, he is facing a maximum sentence of Life Without the Possibility of Purr-ole.

Of course, since us cats are famous for having nine lives, we reckon that the world won't have seen the last of our Little Troublemaker for a long, long time to come.

Yellow Rose of Hexes

2006-10-14T15:54:00.000-07:00

Hello! My name is Rose and actually I'm not yellow at all! I am all black! But at this time of year...I must admit...I become an ever so slight shade of yellow. And why is that, you might ask? Well, please allow me to explain...

Witches, goblins, black cats, and things that go bump in the night! I can understand people being afraid of witches and goblins, but what is so scary for me is this: Why in the world would anyone be afraid of a black cat?..Especially a little black cat like ME??? During Halloween month, Annie won't allow anyone to adopt me ... or any of the other black cats, either! ... and most other rescues feel the same way about their black kitties, too! It appears that some folks adopt little black kitties like me for their own nefarious purr-poses!

The world just becomes an especially unsafe place for all of us black kitties during Halloween season.

So this year, I figure since I have the name, I might as well play the game. And it might just help me to overcome some my fears.

That's why I've decided to put a hex on all the bad things that scare me so badly. So here is my spell for this Halloween:

Abbra Cadabbra do,
For all black cats with yellow hue:
My spell is cast for this dark season
That none be hurt for any reason.

Bogeymen who roam the night
In search of cats to harm or fright
Will grow a wart upon their noses
So they won't mess with any Roses.

All house doors will swing one way
So no cats are out on Hallow Day.
All black hearts will be exposed
By being hexed and being Rosed.

All good guys wear hats of black
And black cats keep good luck on track.
And this shall be the season's nexus
As purr the Yellow Rose of Hexes.

Well, that ought to do it. But since this is my first hex ... please be on the safe side and keep your kitties indoors this Halloween Season. As they always say, an inside cat is a safe cat... And a happy cat, too!

Heavenly Investment

2006-09-30T14:12:00.000-07:00

On August 20, 2006, Annie lost her beloved dog, Fred. We haven't written in our Blog since that date because we are all so very, very sad. We miss Fred terribly, and some of the light has gone out of Annie's eyes. Fred has always been her very best friend ... and ours, too! Long before Purr-Angels' Cat Shelter was ever begun, Fred was Annie's only child, and he welcomed all of us ... into both his heart and his home! ... with wide, open arms. Annie said that Fred taught her so much about animals, how smart we all are, and how much love we have to offer!

Fred always liked to pretend that he didn't much like cats ... just so he could impress all Annie's other dogs ... but it wasn't true. In our private moments, Fred loved to play with us and he even allowed us a cuddle now and then.

Whenever Annie would get one of her migraine headaches, Fred wouldn't leave her side until she was all well. He slept with her every night, and he was her constant companion throughout the day.

Fred had very bad arthritis, and it was often hard for him to get around. But he loved life, and he loved being with us with all his heart.

He was twelve years old on that sad day when he passed away. He hadn't shown any signs of illness, and his passing was very sudden. Our doctor thinks it was due to a heart attack.

Fred was such a character, and he added such joy to our lives! When he wanted a drink of icy cold water, he would always make his little 'grumpy' sound until Annie brought him his very own glass of water. And at night ... when he was ready to sleep ... he would raise one little front paw so that Annie could carry him to her bed.

Fred was rescued when he was just a baby of ten weeks. He was very gentle, playful and oh so smart! Annie swore he could tell time! Every evening at 10 o'clock, when it was time for our diabetic dog, Sam, to get his evening shot, Fred would set up a howl to remind Annie that it was time for Sam's insulin!

Until our time comes, Annie says that our work on this Earth must go on ... and with every new rescue, we will honor the memory of Fred, who loved us all so much! He loved all animals! ... Birds, toads, cats, cows ... and especially, he loved swimming with the ducks! So for now, we must go on ... Because that's what Fred would want us to do.

Annie says that the Bible tells us to lay up our treasures in Heaven, because where our treasures are, there will our hearts be also. Being that Fred was among our greatest treasures on Earth, she says that God's promise means that we will surely be with Fred again ... re-united at last! ... when on that great day, we will witness the Lord's wondrous Return with our very own heavenly investment!

FeLV (Not So) Positive

2006-06-19T13:12:00.000-07:00

My name is Bangor (Bangy for short) and I have lived at Purr-Angels for three years now. I am about eight years old and I am an all-orange kitty. Here is a picture of me in my window seat:

I am not available for adoption because I am the mascot for Purr-Angels Cat Shelter. I guess you could say that sort of makes me in charge of all the other kitties!

When you read my story, you will see what a miracle that really is!

I was rescued in the Spring of 2003. I was living on the street, and I was very, very ill. One rainy night in early March, I found myself standing outside our local IHOP restaurant. I was so weak, and I was desperately hoping that someone would notice me.

Unbeknownst to me, earlier that day, our shelter worker, Annie, (who suffers from terrible migraines) had been sick all day, too! That evening, she awoke and felt a little better and decided to go to IHOP for a bite to eat. (She still didn't feel very well, and didn't feel like cooking.)

When she arrived, she saw a waitress standing outside, who pointed at me as Annie approached the front door. "He's been waiting here all day," the waitress said.

"Waiting?" Annie said to me. "Why, then, The Good Lord Himself must have awoken me from a sound sleep so I could come here and take you home!" she exclaimed.

From a carrier always kept in her van, Annie then scooped me up and placed me inside the contraption. She could see that I was burning up with fever.

I was taken to the doctor, and it was discovered that I had a temperature of 105! The doctor said that he had rarely seen a kitty with a temperature that high!

Annie also noticed that my gums and the pads on my paws were very white, which is a common sign of FeLV.

Several tests were taken, and I was given fluids, vitamins and antibiotic shots to try to get my raging fever under control.

After waiting anxiously for the test results to come back, the doctor at last returned and pronounced that I was indeed FeLV (Feline Leukemia Virus) Positive.

The doctor told Annie that I had a very small chance of survival since I was already very ill with the virus. He warned her that the most she could hope to do was keep me as comfortable as possible until that sad day when my time finally came.

What's more, he told her that she must keep me separate from all the other cats, as FeLV is very highly contagious!

Now, if you could just see Purr-Angels, you would understand how impossible that sounded to Annie! There just isn't anywhere here without a cat, and Annie couldn't bear to keep me caged for a long period of time.

Annie decided that the only place where she could safely isolate me from all the other cats and allow me some measure of freedom was to keep me with her in the office.

Annie was very sad when she returned to the shelter with me that day. It seemed to us like I had been given a death sentence.

After she got me settled in, Annie whispered in my ear not to worry ... She promised me that she would take care of me throughout this dreaded illness and that I would never again be alone.

And so our journey together began.

For the next several months, my temperature would often spike. I would have to be rushed to the vet's office almost every other day to receive life-saving fluids and nutrients.

Between my doctor visits, Annie would often keep a cold cloth around me or give me cool baths to lower my fever. She soon discovered that I loved icy cold natural spring water, and she would offer it to me in a cup, which I soon demanded several times purr day.

Annie and I became deeply bonded over the days and months to come. Although it often seemed hopeless, we couldn't allow ourselves to give in to despair. We often prayed and asked the Lord for a miracle when it seemed my passing was imminent.

After many months, a time came when I had not had any relapses for at least two weeks. Carefully inspecting me, Annie noticed that the pads on my paws had become a lovely, deep-pink color, too! Her heart leaping with joy, Annie ran to the phone and called my doctor.

"Bring him in!" the doctor exclaimed. "We will do what is called an ELISA test to see what is going on!"

I was given the test the very next day, and this time it took two days for the results to come back.

The vet called Annie on the third day with the joyous news: I was FeLV negative!

The doctor proclaimed it a miracle! ... And Annie said I was a Miracle Cat!

You can only imagine how we all rejoiced that day!

My doctor said it was now safe that I join all the other kitties in the shelter, but I just didn't want to go. I loved my special place in Annie's office, so we decided that's just where I will stay! ... And that's how I became the mascot for Purr-Angels Cat Shelter.

Annie said that I taught her 'the three nevers': never give up, never lose hope ... and she said that's something she can never afford to forget!

And as for me, I'm here to remind everyone that nothing ... not even FeLV! ... can ever truly be positive in a world so full of God's love, tender mercies, and miracles.

So be sure to remember ... If you (or your kitty) have been diagnosed FeLV Positive, never give up, never lose hope, and ... most of all ... always think negative!

Faux Feral

2006-06-15T11:03:00.000-07:00

Hi! My name is Chia Pet, but everyone calls me Special. I got the name Chia Pet because when I first came to Purr-Angels' outdoor feeding station, along with my mother, Dabnis, Annie said I looked just like a Chia Pet! I am all black, and when I was a baby, the fur on my body was very sleek, but the fur on my legs was full and bushy.

I am about five months old now. My mother is what is called a feral cat, because she has never known a human's touch, and she is very afraid of people. For my protection, she taught me to be the same way.

So, when I first came to the Diner (all of us ferals call the outdoor feeding station our 'Diner'), I was quite feral, too. The people tried every way they could think of to win me over, but my mother warned me to not trust them. I couldn't help but wonder why they fed me such tasty dinners each night if they didn't really like me, but when I asked my mom, she said you never know with humans. They could be trying to fatten us up for their own dubious reasons, she warned.

My little eyes were starting to crust over, and I developed an Upper Respiratory Infection. Annie told me one night that she was very worried about me, and tried very hard to win my trust so that she could take me to see a doctor. But I was too smart for that, and I managed to avoid all her efforts to become friends.

One night, Annie was waiting for me when I came in for my dinner. She was sitting on the stoop and in her hand she held a long, thin plastic stick with a huge feather attached to the end. Quietly, she swayed the funny looking contraction back and forth across the Diner floor.

I was a bit alarmed at first, but I must admit I was extremely intrigued. My mother warned me once again (by hissing and batting me away) to be cautious, as it might be a trap.

For the next week, Annie was waiting for me each night with the strange looking feather stick and, to my mother's dismay, I eventually just couldn't help myself ... I had to approach and play with that tempting toy. After that, and with each passing day, I became more and more bold and actually found myself looking forward to our nightly game.

One night, while in the middle of a vigorous game, I felt hands swoop down and sweep me up. I set up a terrific howl as I was placed into a small plastic box and taken inside the main building.

Inside, I was placed in overnight segregation. Annie spoke softly to me and told me I was okay and would be visiting the doctor the following day and getting tests. "Tests?" I cried. "I haven't even studied! What if I fail?"

Annie just smiled and reassured me once again that I would be okay and gently stroked my head. I resisted as much as possible, but I just couldn't bring myself to actually strike or bite her, as strangely enough, some part of me actually enjoyed her tender touch.

The next day I passed all my tests and my reward was some sort of bad tasting liquid that I had to be given morning, noon and night. But I figured I must be pretty smart to have passed all those tests without even cracking a book.

Now, after everything we went through together, I love Annie and I even like most other people, too. I love to play the feather game, and rub against people's legs to show my pleasure.

By the way, just in case you're wondering, I got the nickname Special because I am the only cat in the whole shelter who gets along with all the other cats who live here ... so I am allowed to roam freely between all the different sections of the shelter. The other cats are amazed that I can do this, and just shake their heads and say I must be Special.

Annie says that I just didn't have in it me to remain a feral. She said I love to play and get stroked too much to live the feral lifestyle!

It took quite a bit of time for me to decide I didn't really want to be a feral and give the people a chance. But I'm glad I did, because I am having a lot of fun now.

Annie says I am her little Faux Feral, because I am a feral who really isn't. I bet there are a lot of Faux Ferals out there, just like me.

Maybe if people realize that, on the inside, all of us ferals are really just kitty cats, too, the world won't be so eager to dispose of us.

Ferals just haven't been as fortunate as a lot of other cats.

Because, even though I started life as a Feral ... and with time became a Faux Feral ... I am certainly the Genuine Article ... and very Special, too!

Temple of Doom

2006-06-10T12:10:00.000-07:00

I was named Indiana Jones because, just like in the movie, I, too, once escaped the Temple of Doom ... and lived to tell about it! So I guess you might say that this is a sort of adventure story!

I am about two years old and I am an all black kitty with great big green eyes. My mother spent most of her life on the streets and in very hard circumstances. Having one litter after another took a terrible toll on her health, so that by the time I was born, my poor mom was in a very weakened state. Even so, she was such a wonderful mother, and she did everything she could to take good care of my little sister and I.

My mother told us that she once had a lovely home to call her own, but her family moved away and had no place for her, so she was left behind. She was a fine-looking cat in those days, she said, but her hard life had dimmed the sparkle in her eyes and her lovely coat was now coarse and brittle.

One day my mother went out searching for food for us and never returned. I know that Mother would never have abandoned us, so I am sure that she must have fallen prey to some terrible misfortune. My sister and I were now all alone in the world.

After awhile, we grew very hungry and began to set up a howl from our hidden place behind some bushes. We cried and cried, but Mother never came. By the second day, we were growing very weak.

At last, we saw the bushes part and a lovely face peered in at us. With a soft voice, she reassured us that we were okay and that she would not hurt us. We scurried back into a deep corner of our bush, but we didn't really fight very hard. Actually, we were quite glad to see this person with the kind face, even though our mother had sternly warned us never to trust a human being.

Scooping us up in both hands, the kind lady put us in a metal box and took us away.

Our new adventure had just begun.

When we first arrived at The Temple of Doom, we thought it was a very nice place indeed! We were given a slightly bigger metal box to live in, and we were given food and water, which we hungrily lapped up.

After our hunger was satisfied, we were very curious about our new surroundings. We noticed that the room was full of many metal boxes and that in each one was a kitty, or sometimes two or three.

We were delighted! We must have landed in Kitty Heaven!

Eagerly, we began to paw at the bars of our cage. "Let us out!" we cried to an old Tom, who was in a box directly across from ours. "We want to explore this place and meet all the other cats!"

The old Tom raised his tired head and looked at us in a way that quieted us right away. "Be still, " he growled. "Don't you know anything? Stop drawing attention to yourself."

"But we want to come out and play!" we protested. "This is such a nice place and we are so happy to be warm and well-fed."

The old Tom just shook his head. "Look around you! Do the other cats look happy to be here?"

We craned our necks, and indeed, the other kitties were lying in their cages in utter despair.

"What's wrong with them?" we cried in dismay.

"They know what you have yet to realize," said the old Tom. "You have been brought to The Temple of Doom, Son. You must pray for all that enter here. This is a very bad place."

Fear began to creep slowly up my spine. "What is the Temple of Doom? Why, it can't be so bad! Look, we have been fed and given fresh, clean water! How can this be a bad place?"

"Son," the old Tom replied. "The Temple of Doom is a human institution. It was created by humans for all of us who are not wanted, who are sick, or just too old to ever find a home."

"But is that so bad?" I inquired. "At least, if all of us are unwanted, we can live together in this nice place for the rest of our lives!"

A look of deep sadness crossed the old Tom's face. "Son, have you noticed the little signs on each of our cages? Some are yellow, like yours, and some are black, like mine. The yellow signs mean that there is still hope for you. You and your sister have three days before you, too, will receive a black sign like mine."

"And what does the black sign mean?" I cried in alarm.

"The black sign means that my time is up. They will come and get me today and I will be put down, Son."

"No! That can't be true! You are a fine old Tom! Just look at you! Surely, someone must want you!"

"People don't want old Toms like me, Son. They like young and frisky kittens, like your little sister there." He shook his head sadly. "But for you, my little one, it doesn't look too good. Although you are young and frisky and quite good-looking, unfortunately, you are all black. And black kitties have almost as hard a time finding a good home as us old Toms do."

Suddenly, the door swung open and a tall, older man entered the room. In his arms he carried a small box similar to the one which held us when we were first brought in to The Temple of Doom. He headed straight to the old Tom's cage.

"Sorry, Tom, " he said with a voice of deep regret. "Time for us to go now."

The old Tom struggled to his feet with a tear in his eye. "For me, it is too late. But I shall say a prayer for you and your sweet little sister upon my final breath, little one." And with that, the old Tom was gone.

The days slowly passed. On the second day, a nice lady and her cute little girl came in and quickly fell in love with my sister, a cute calico kitten. She didn't want to leave me, and cried pitifully when they pried her from our cage. But at last, she too, was gone, and I was alone.

On the third day, the tall, older man once again returned to our room. He sadly removed the yellow sign from my cage and replaced it with a black one, just like the one that had been on the old Tom's cage.

Everything the old Tom had told me was true! No one wanted a little black kitty like me.

I crawled to the back of my cage, huddled there in a tight little ball and cried.

The next morning, as I was listening with dread for the footfalls of the taller, older man, I suddenly saw a lady walk in and approach my cage. "You poor little thing," she said, and a tear slipped down her face. She reached inside my cage and gently stroked my head. And with that, she reached up and removed the black sign on my cage. "I'll be back," she promised. "Don't worry, little one, I'll be back."

After about thirty minutes, the tall, older man entered the room. I scrambled to the back of my cage and howled in fear. "It's okay, it's okay," he said. "A rescue lady is here and has found a place for you and you will be leaving here today."

It has been a long time since that day, when I first saw Annie and was rescued from The Temple of Doom. I now live at Purr-Angels where there are no black signs and every day is full of hope that today will be the day that I find my special person at last.

But at night, I still think about The Temple of Doom. I remember the old Tom, and all the others who are there today, praying for a good home while there is still time.

Please, won't you adopt a shelter animal?

Our only hope is YOU!

And most of all, if you do visit the Temple of Doom, please reach deep inside your heart and consider adopting an older pet ... perhaps one just like my mother, whose eyes have dimmed and lost their sparkle ... or maybe even a little black kitty, like me.

Just Be Cos

2006-06-09T15:30:00.000-07:00

Hi! My name is Cosmo, but everyone just calls me Cos. I have only lived at Purr-Angels for about eight months now. I was a very little guy when I was first rescued, and I was pretty scared, too! I was only about two months old at the time, and the world was such a big and lonely place for me.

Annie says I have a great purr-sonality. I am a very pretty orange cat and I am quite playful once I get used to my surroundings and I feel safe.

My only problem is, I am a bit shy at first.

A few months after coming here, I was adopted by a really nice family! I liked them very much, but I must admit I was very timid and standoffish. I kept hiding under the bed and I couldn't bring myself to come out. My new family kept asking me "Why won't you come out, Cos?" But I could only mumble under my breath "Just because." I didn't have the words to explain to those nice people just how scared I really was.

A couple of days passed, and the grandchildren came to visit. They were pretty cute, and I was sort of interested in becoming friends with them, but they were awfully rowdy, and they kind of scared me, too. Especially when they crawled under the bed and grabbed me by my fur to get me to come out.

They just wouldn't take no for an answer. They kept insisting that I come out and play, even though I begged them to leave me alone.

"Why are you so scared and unfriendly?" they demanded. I got really tired of telling them over and over so I hissed, "Just because!" I was getting angry now, and more and more frightened, too.

The children ran to my new mommy and told her what I had said. And they told her that I had hissed in a very unfriendly manner, too. Which upset her very much!

Next thing I knew, my mom was peering under the bed, and with a very stern look on her face, she asked, "Why are you behaving this way, Cos?" I backed further into the corner and tried to express my fear and displeasure by hissing once again.

"That did it!" cried my new mom. "I'm calling the shelter and taking you back first thing in the morning!"

"NO! NO!" I cried. "Please just give me a little more time. Tell the children not to be so rough with me!" I pleaded. But my new mom just shook her head and said, "You are not a nice cat. I am taking you back now just because of your bad attitude."

I have been back at Purr-Angels now for several weeks. At first I was pretty sad, but I'm starting to feel a little better about things as time goes by.

It helps that Annie holds me on her lap a lot and tells me that I am NOT a bad cat and that she loves me very, very much. She says that one day I will find someone who will appreciate me for all my special qualities, just like she does. She says they will love me for myself and that they will be patient with me while I adjust to my new life with them.

For now, Annie says all I have to do is just be Cos, and the rest will take care of itself.

Purr-manent Tax Cuts

2006-06-06T04:19:00.000-07:00

My name is Clawdius and I am a Flamepoint Siamese. I have slightly crossed eyes as a result of all my deep-thinking. I am very intelligent and would like to share some of my insights with you.

I have been at Purr-Angels for two years now. I was adopted once, but I was returned to the shelter a few days later because my new person didn't quite see eye to eye with me. (This could be due to the fact that I am, as I said before, a bit cross-eyed.) Anyway, since returning to Purr-Angels, I have given a lot of serious thought to all of the pros and cons of adoption, and I have reached a number of conclusions.

First, I would like to emphasize that, although I am very happy living here at the shelter...I have a lot of friends and I am quite comfortable in my surroundings...I would very much like to have a home to call my own, as would most of the other cats who live here! However, it seems that good homes are in short supply. I think I may have come up with a solution to fix that!

I call it my Income Tax Purr-posal.

Here is how it works:

Since I spend most of my weekends watching Bulls and Bears marathons (Annie thinks it's some sort of nature show and faithfully records every episode for us), I often hear a lot of discussions regarding people's desire for purr-manent tax cuts. As a result, there is one thing that I have learned for sure: Humans like their tax cuts even more than I like my prime cuts. So, it just stands to reason that if people could get tax cuts for their pets, they would most likely adopt a lot more pets, too!

Therefore, under my Tax Purr-posal, everyone who has a pet would be able to deduct their pet on their income taxes, just like they do their children. (To avoid abuses, it would be mandatory that each pet be licensed AND spayed or neutered.) That way, instead of the government spending tax dollars warehousing animals, they would actually be promoting responsible pet guardianship!

Now, can you just imagine all the people who would be standing in line to adopt an homeless animal? The animal shelters wouldn't be able to keep up with the demand! And what's more, my plan doesn't stop there!

As we all know, disabled and older animals have a much harder time finding good homes...Well, I have that covered, too! Here is an example of what my Tax Table would look like:

Pets 0 to Age 5= $1,000 deduction.

Pets 5 to Age 10= $1,500 deduction.

Pets 10 years and Up= $2,000 deduction.

Disabled Pets (any age)= $2,500

Voila! Disabled and older pets would suddenly become the pick of the litter!

I really think I'm onto something here! What do you think?

It just seems to me that, rather than creating more animal shelters, it would make a lot more sense to create tax shelters for us instead!

Just One More

2006-06-02T00:58:00.000-07:00

Please allow me to introduce myself. I am a long-haired black cat and I am approximately nine years old. My real name is Sheba, but everyone here just calls me Mama. That's because when I first arrived at Purr-Angels, I brought six other little ones with me! Since I have been poor most of my life and have had to search so hard for food and shelter, I have become quite a little numbers-cruncher. That is, I worry a lot about every little thing. It doesn't help my cat-itude any that I have had so many litters (prior to coming here) and have always had a lot of mouths to feed. So I have spent most of my life trying to figure out how many times a half-eaten slice of bologna can be divided by seven.

What has really been worrying me lately ... and keeping me awake nights ... is all of the phone messages we have recently been receiving. I see Annie slumped over her desk, her fingers flying over the calculator, and I know that she is numbers-crunching, too. Which, I must admit, alarms me.

Most of the messages would break your heart. Here are just a few:

"We have the MOST BEAUTIFUL cat in all the world! But sadly we are moving to a new apartment which doesn't allow pets..We are absolutely certain that people will be standing in line to offer her a good home! Could you possibly make room for just one more??"

Or....

"Hello! We just had a a baby a few weeks ago and our Siamese is looking cross-eyed at him! We thought we even heard him hiss when our two-year old pulled his tail the other day!...What he needs is a home without children! Could you possibly take just one more??"

And then there's my purr-sonal favorite:

"We have a Hummer, and because of rising gas prices, we were unable to afford to spay our little Muffin. Unfortunately, she has just given birth to a litter of eight which we are unable to keep. We will have to take them to the pound unless you can help us! Being as cute and adorable as they are, we are sure they will easily be adopted! Could you please make room for just eight
more??"

Now, being the numbers-cruncher that I am, it's not hard for me to figure out that just one more isn't really just one more. It's more like just TEN more ... per day! And that's something like just 300 more ... per month!

I really don't mean to sound selfish, but I just can't help lying awake nights, my heart hammering with dread. I find myself staring at the food shelves and wondering how many times they can be divided by 300? 500? 800? Yikes!

So today, if you wouldn't mind, I would like to ask you to please do a few things LESS.

Please take one less trip to the mall, and spay or neuter your pets.

Teach your children to love us more and tease us less.

And before moving, think of us no less than you would your Traveler's Checks ... and don't leave home without us!

Many of you may already have a pet. Nevertheless, please consider adopting just one more.

Be part of the solution! ADOPT a shelter animal!

When Love Goes Astray

2006-06-01T14:56:00.000-07:00

My name is Agatha, and I am approximately five years old. I am what is called a Maine Coon Cat, and Annie says that I am very pretty.

Most days, I seldom leave my room. My special place is a window perch in Annie's office where I like to sit and watch the world go by (from a safe distance).

My life before coming here was very hard...I was often kicked in my sides for reasons that I could not comprehend, and to this day I am terrified to be at floor level within easy reach of moving feet. I have some kidney problems, too, that I probably developed as a result of being kicked and beaten. A few months ago, I suffered a severe health crisis, but as a result of medication, and much love and prayer, I have been showing steady improvement since that time. My doctor says it is unknown what the future holds for me, but he is holding out a lot of hope for my complete recovery!

I guess that's what today's post is mainly all about...Hope.

Slowly, I am learning to trust again, and Annie says that one day she and I will dance together without fear. I am getting where I am sometimes able to allow Annie to walk near me ... just so long as she whispers "It's okay" as she passes by ... to remind me that I am safe here now.

Annie actually found me out at our local animal control one day a couple of years back when she was out there to help locate a missing dog. I was huddled in the back of my cage and had almost given up on life. My heart and spirit were broken. Mostly, I had lost all hope.

But I have learned since coming here that where there is life, there IS hope! I can feel my heart stir when I see a butterfly flutter past my window, and I find myself eagerly listening for the voices that comfort me. Although it's too soon right now for dancing, I honestly am starting to believe that one day I just might walk alongside Annie and not be afraid!

The other day, while gazing out my window, I saw a car pull up out front and release eight cats into our front yard. They were so scared and afraid, and I recognized the look of hopelessness and fear in their eyes. In that moment, as in my youth, I again glimpsed the horror of love gone astray.

Since then, Annie has been able to catch two of those poor souls and they are in our shelter now. They are somewhat afraid still, but luckily, they were rescued before too much damage could be done to them out there on the street. For the other six remaining, they are mostly feral now, and Annie has to content herself with making sure they have plenty of food and fresh water to eat every day. But she talks to them often...if only from a distance...And although we know from past experience that it isn't too likely, we haven't lost hope that one day we can welcome them into our shelter, too.

There just aren't too many happy endings when love goes astray...when people who we have loved with all of our hearts have hurt and abandoned us. And even though I have now known kindness and felt its tender touch, there is a part of my soul which will forever remain a prisoner to sorrow and despair.

For as evening falls and I sit atop my window seat, unseen by man, I bear silent witness to the suffering of those who have not been as fortunate as I. And I shall not forget that I once walked among the forlorn creatures of the night.

Purrls of Wisdom

2006-06-01T10:50:00.000-07:00

Hi! My name is Peeper, and I will be doing today's post for Annie, who is busy this morning cleaning the shelter. I am a very large, beautiful (if I do say so myself!) black and white kitty and I am approximately two years old. I have been living at Purr-Angels since I was six months old!

This morning, I couldn't help overhearing Annie grumbling while cleaning our boxes ... something about an article that she had read somewhere on the Web. Now, this is strange, because I have studied many spider webs in my time and I have never noticed anything written there.

However, I digress.

Apparently, Annie saw on the Web that someone made a comment that if an animal hasn't been adopted within six months of being rescued, then they should be put down because they never will be! The article said it has something to do with economics. Hmmph! Annie said, what does the writer think Rescue is, anyway? Wall Street??? Finding the purr-fect love match between an animal and a human being can take months...even years! Rescue is a commitment of both time AND love! There are a lot of us here who have been at Purr-Angels for as long as three years. Some of us have been badly abused in our former lives and it takes time for us to learn to trust again. Others are shy, or considered too old, or have special needs, such as diabetes and other ailments.

Annie says you can't put a time limit on things like that! When that special someone finally walks in the door, for them and their special animal, the clock is magically rolled back and for everyone involved it is Day One all over again.

If everyone would just open up their hearts ... Plus spay and neuter their pets! ... there would be room for us all! It's never too late! So never give up, and never lose hope!

Well, those are my Purrls of Wisdom for today...that, and Beware of Spider Webs! You just can't believe everything you read!

I must go now and help Annie chase dust bunnies! I don't know where she puts them when she catches them, but if you are interested, please contact us ... most likely, knowing Annie, they are up for Adoption and can be seen scampering around the bookcases in the office.

A Fine Whine

2006-05-31T13:19:00.000-07:00

Annie, our shelter worker and all around Girl Friday (Saturday through Thursday, too) said that I can write today's post since I am in a rather grumpy mood this morning! She said I need an outlet to express myself..so here I am! I am a Brown Tabby named Amarillo and I am about nine years old. I have been living at Purr-Angels Cat Shelter for about a year a now.

Before coming here, I had a rather hard life. I'm missing one of my toes and I have a few battle scars from my days on the street.

I love being here because I love to be held and petted. I can spend hours and hours cuddling on Annie's lap. My big gripe is that I don't like to compete for attention with all the other cats! Every time I get comfy on Annie's lap, here comes one of the other kitties to try to crowd in. Today I lost my patience and climbed up in the rafters to show my displeasure.

I am hoping that someone special will come along soon and recognize all my special qualities. It's really hard for a Tom like me because it seems like so many people are looking for kittens to adopt! I often hear them telling Annie that they just don't want an older cat.

If only they could realize how much love we have to offer and give us older guys a chance!

I have my own special webpage if anyone out here in cyberspace is looking for a lonely old Tom who will love them with all his great, big, beautiful heart!

I'm sorry if I seem to be complaining a lot today ... But Annie said that older cats are like a fine whine, so I thought I would give it my best shot!