Jay Boogie's Story

Pet's name: Jay Boogie
Adopted by: Josh and Kristin
From: Lollypop Farm, Humane Society of Greater Rochester, Fairport, N.Y.

When Kristin and her boyfriend (now husband) adopted their first dog, they named him after a dear friend of Kristin's whom she had lost.

2006 was a year of unplanned, life-changing events for me, a rollercoaster of emotions and relationships. In May that year, I lost my best friend to suicide, leaving me empty, angry, and feeling utterly alone. When I met Jason six years earlier, there was that instant spark where two souls connect instantly, creating a bond of a lifetime, or so I had thought. He was my voice of reason, the expert on relationships, and one of the few people who truly understood who I was. He was the very definition of a best friend who was always looking out for me.

And that's why it hit me so hard that morning in May right before the Memorial Day holiday weekend. The phone call with the unexpected news brought a surge of emotions, questions, and some soul-searching. I had lost one of the closest people to me and suddenly had a huge void in my life. Ultimately, I found the strength inside to be positive every day, to try to enjoy the beauty of life that my friend had refused to see, and to promise that I would not let a tragedy direct my path in life.

So I hit the reset button and focused on moving forward. A few months later I started dating a guy I had met online and we were instantly inseparable. Our relationship progressed and one night, the talk about owning a dog came up.

To be honest, I didn't take the conversation seriously as we were celebrating at a friend's wedding, and as my head hit the pillow that evening I murmured to my boyfriend, "Sure, we can go to the animal shelter tomorrow morning to look at dogs." The next morning, I woke up to the excitement similar to a child on Christmas morning waiting to go downstairs to open presents. Only that morning it was my boyfriend reminding me of my promise I had made a few hours earlier and informing me when the shelter opened. I'm one to stick to my word and I thought I would at least humor him by going to look.

We were some of the first to arrive at Lollypop that Sunday morning in October. We walked together up and down the kennels, silently making mental notes of what dog seemed to suit us best. At the end of the hallway of kennels, we turned to each other and asked which of the dogs we were most interested in. We both had fallen in love with the same rottweiler mix puppy called Bam-Bam. Looking behind the wire cage, we had felt the same bond with this then-tiny ball of fur. It was his first day available for adoption and at eight weeks old he was a red-haired brindle puppy with floppy ears and monster paws. “You know he's going to get big, right?” my boyfriend said as we filled out the paperwork to visit with the puppy. Having grown up with a bichon frise, I thought, "What's big—50 pounds? No problem!"

"We can call him Jay—after your best friend," said my boyfriend, who had never met him, but knew what his friendship had meant. The tears welled up in my eyes and I knew that while I had lost a best friend earlier in the year, I was gaining a canine best friend that day (and that my boyfriend was a keeper).

A lot of people ask where Boogie came along in his name. That's his personality—he just boogies all over. I once caught him tap dancing in the bathtub. One day I came home early for lunch, and as soon as I walked into the bathroom, his red head poked out from behind the shower curtain, eyes large as if I caught him eating a piece of cake, with a look of panic that I had just witnessed an embarrassing moment for him. He has so much zest for life and pleasing people that you can't help but love him, all 98 pounds that he's grown into. I remember the first time we took him to the park during winter and he discovered ice. Jay would run and slide across patches of ice, seemingly delighted with this new-found pleasure.

One of the things I love most about him is that he loves educational programming on TV—seriously. Obviously he loves anything dog-related (even dog cartoons like Scooby-Doo), but he'll glue himself in front of the screen when the Travel Channel is on as if he's daydreaming about running along the beaches chasing the surf.

Turns out that he's a Rhodesian ridgeback mix (with a bit of pit bull), but don't tell him because he's convinced he can fit on your lap and be your couch potato partner. He may look intimidating with his tall stature, large head, and powerful (wagging) tail, but inside is a personality that reminds me so much of his namesake.

Animals can have such a profound impact on our lives, filling places in our hearts with such joy. Jay Boogie brings a smile to my face every day with his goofy persona and the loyalty that drives him to stay attached to our sides, reminding us that he loves us just as much as we love him.  And that I have a best friend again at my side.

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If you adopted a pet from a shelter or rescue group and you'd like to share his or her story, please email me. I'd love to hear from you!

Zelda and Mrs. Parker's Stories

Zelda and Mrs. Parker perched on the shower door

Pets' names: Zelda and Mrs. Parker
Adopted by: Leonore
From: Putnam Humane Society in Carmel, N.Y.

Leonore (who blogs at As a Linguist...) sent the stories of Zelda and Mrs. Parker, her two sister kitties. 

My first cat, Gomer Pyle, had come to me as a refugee from a friend who loved him but also loved her two Boxer dogs and didn't want him to be chased anymore. He was a goofy cat: crooked tail, overbite, and slightly crossed eyes. Then, a tumor required the amputation of his front left leg and shoulder, which didn't stop him from chasing his tail. Finally, after a fang extraction, his upper lip would often get caught on his lower fang, making him look like he was imitating Elvis' famous half-sneer half-seductive smile.

And oh, how I loved him! I had him with me for six years.

Gomer got sick one Friday in March 2010. He was better by Sunday, worse again on Monday, and put to sleep on Tuesday. His last moments were spent purring and pushing his head into my hand for the scratches he so loved.

I spent a week crying, another week feeling numb, and the next four months not wanting another cat. Then, I finally decided it was time. I was ready for a new cat—not just Replacement Gomer—and maybe even two so they wouldn't get lonely when I was at work.

One day at the end of June, after many false starts and falling in love about a thousand times, I knew I had found my new cats.

My boyfriend and I walked into the Putnam Humane Society to inquire about some foster cats I'd seen on their website. Before we even called the foster parents, however, I saw two small kittens in a corner cage. They were sisters, 10 weeks old, and had been brought in about two months earlier. They'd been found together in a garage alone with no sign of their mother. They were quite feral at first but had responded well to care and attention.

I was handed a tiny white kitten. She was the softest thing I've ever felt. She sniffed around a bit, and then settled into my arms, closed her eyes, and started purring. I scratched her head. She purred harder. I rubbed her belly. She squirmed and, still purring as loud as anything, she turned her head and gave me a little love bite on the arm. She had chosen me.

Her sister, a little brown tabby, was still in the cage. She was even smaller than her sister. She had been in her little kitty cave, watching the whole thing. She was taken out and held up. She immediately squirmed and let out a little squeak that melted my heart even more than it already was. Her sister would not be going anywhere without her.

I was hooked.

A week later, just before Independence Day, they came home with me. They've grown into beautiful, incredibly sweet cats who still love to snuggle with each other when they're not chasing and tussling. In some ways they are very similar: they aren't very talkative, but they both trill quite a bit and let out their little squeaky meows when they want cheese, their favorite snack. Both also like to be in the same room as I am, and they both are very playful. Neither of them have a mean bone in their bodies, and they never bite or swat at me or my boyfriend.

Snoozing under the futon

But they certainly have distinct personalities. Zelda is intensely curious about everything and often gets into mischief by jumping to the tops of doors or bookshelves, or exploring every nook and cranny of a room. She loves to drink out of the faucet and is always on the bathroom counter to watch me put on make-up. She's the one who knocks pens off my desk, or bats at the cursor on the screen when I'm working on the computer. And she loves to snuggle, often making herself comfortable on my lap or next to my head at night.

Mrs. Parker is still more skittish around too many people, but she is extremely playful and silly. Her favorite toy is her scratching post, which she beats up regularly. She doesn't like to be picked up but will snuggle and purr for hours if she's burrowed under a blanket with me. She's a chewer, and after losing two sweater belts to her gnawing, she is the reason I now have a latch on the closet door.

I'm still as smitten as can be with my girls and can't imagine my life without them.

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If you adopted a pet from a shelter or rescue group and you'd like to share his or her story, please email me. I'd love to hear from you!

Mr. Minchy Spampobello and Frances Serena's Stories: Part 2

Pets' names: Mr. Minchy Spampobello and Frances Serena
Adopted by: Kerry A. Barnes
From: Frances came from the Tompkins County SPCA in Ithaca, N.Y.; Minchy, bred by a "backyard breeder," came from a family who wasn't able to care for him.

Kerry (who blogs at Hamchuckles) sent the stories of her two dogs—Minchy's was posted on Sunday, and below is Part 2, Frances' tale.

Frances' story is a sad one, indeed. We believe she was a breeder at a puppy mill for her early years, then the mill sold her to the research lab at a local university. There, she was bred again and her embryos used for genetic testing. We don't believe she was harmed in any way or overtly mistreated at the lab; the biggest issue was that for the first three years of her life, this beautiful beagle was treated like an object, not a pet. Kept in a cage, never taught to play, known only by the serial number tattooed on the inside of her ear.

When her time was up in the lab, she was adopted out to a student. This young man (who named her Snoop) had her for exactly one month before he surrendered her to the SPCA. I happened to be in the intake shelter when he brought her in. His reason for giving her up? The little dog wasn't housetrained very well, scared of loud noises, and worst of all, wanted to be with him all the time.

I saw her as he brought her in, so confused that this boy she'd already learned to love was discarding her. I knew from the moment I saw her that she was meant to be mine. She spent five days in the intake shelter before I was able to have her meet Minchy to make sure they got along and then finally bring her to our house.

She also suffered from severe separation anxiety and howled so horribly that the woman who ran the intake shelter desk had a hard time hearing the phone. When Serena heard I was taking the loud little beagle home, she rolled her eyes and said, "Good luck! You won't have one minute of quiet with that dog." I wasn't worried, because I'd been taking the dog I'd named Frances out of her run in the intake shelter and up to my office with me for the past couple days. Once out of the actual shelter environment, she was quiet as a little mouse, content to just be near you. When I came into work on Monday after having taken Frances home over the weekend, I happily told Serena how good the little dog had been, and that we were naming her Frances Serena in her honor.

The day Frances came home

Frances had some issues beyond her separation anxiety. Her pelvic floor was weakened from all the litters she'd been forced to carry, and she also needed some reinforcement with her housetraining. She'd spent her entire life in a cage; she'd used the shredded newspaper in her cage as her bathroom. We'd heard that lab rescue dogs are easily overwhelmed by being outside. Having spent their lives in the confines of a space just a few feet square, suddenly being out in the wide open is frightening to them.

Again, my dog behaviorist friend helped us out. She told us to reward her with unusually wonderful treats when she "did her business" outside. She suggested bits of liver, stinky cheeses, premium treats. Nothing worked. My friend said it was time to bring out the big guns—baby food. She said baby food (the pureed meat kind) was the end-all, be-all of dog treats, the ultimate. This was proven to us when we offered both dogs a smear of pureed lamb on our finger and Minchy positively quaked in anticipation. Frances? Nothing.

We finally discovered that the ultimate motivator for her, the one thing that truly rang her bell was … dry kibble. Yep. The regular old dry dog food she ate every day. We had thought it was cute that she got so excited when we were filling her bowl and bringing her her meals. It made us kind of sad, however, to realize what that dry food meant to her. It was the only good thing she'd ever known in her life in the puppy mill and in the lab. She wasn't given treats or even scraps of people food. The only reward she ever got was a regular meal. To this day, six years after we adopted her, she still goes crazy over her dry food. She actually gets up on her back legs and does this sort of hop in front of you on your way to bringing the food to her, like a dolphin finning its way upright through the water.

Minchy and Frances

When we first brought her home, Frances was expressionless. She had shark eyes—doll eyes with no emotion behind them, the result of her going away inside herself so often in her previous life. One of the most rewarding things I've ever experienced in my life was watching those eyes slowly come to life. Watching her learn to trust, learn to play, to begin to find her personality and express it has been the most fulfilling thing I've ever seen.

It's also been wonderful to see how our dogs comfort each other. I remember reading a study that found that the presence of another animal was more soothing to a pet than even their human. Our two little separation anxiety survivors rely on each other and are comforted by each other's presence. They're fond of each other (even though Minchy would rather we didn't know that—he prefers to take a sort of exasperated big-brother attitude to Frances when we're around). Frances gives Minchy something else to focus on; he provides her with consistency. They're starting to play together—just a few minutes at a time—but sometimes, when they don't think I'm looking, they chase each other round and round in the backyard.

While personally I think all dogs are wonderful, there's just something so special about adopting one from your local shelter or rescue group. The satisfaction of knowing you not only saved their lives, but gave them a second (and often better) chance at happiness is enormous. At the shelter, we were convinced that adopted dogs were well aware of the second chance (and third, and fourth, and …) they'd been given and were truly appreciative.  The best way to test out this theory? Adopt a shelter pet yourself!

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If you adopted a pet from a shelter or rescue group and you'd like to share his or her story, please email me. I'd love to hear from you!

Mr. Minchy Spampobello and Frances Serena's Stories: Part 1

Pets' names: Mr. Minchy Spampobello and Frances Serena
Adopted by: Kerry A. Barnes
From: Minchy, bred by a "backyard breeder," came from a family who wasn't able to care for him; Frances came from the Tompkins County SPCA in Ithaca, N.Y.

Kerry (who blogs at Hamchuckles) sent the stories of her two dogs—below is Minchy's, and tomorrow's post will feature Frances' tale.

I have two adopted dogs who are the absolute light of my life—Mr. Minchy Spampobello and Frances Serena. Both came from unhappy situations and came to us with issues and emotional baggage. It's so enormously rewarding to see how they've grown and overcome their rough beginnings. They mean so much more to me because they needed me so. I worked for several years as fundraising director for our local shelter, the Tompkins County SPCA, a no-kill shelter since 2001, and I saw firsthand the joy and fulfillment that adopting a rescued pet brings to our lives, as well as theirs.

My husband and I moved to the Ithaca area in spring of 2003. We chose where we would live based primarily on the fact that we wanted—needed—a dog. After taking a couple months to settle in, we decided on Labor Day weekend to begin our search. Our SPCA was closed for the Labor Day holiday, but we could view dogs ready for adoption on their website. None of available pets really spoke to us. On a whim, we checked the "free to a good home" ads in the newspaper. There was an ad for a young beagle/Jack Russell pup, a combination we both liked. My husband called; we were one of many interested in this dog. We were persistent, however, and by the end of that day, we had a call back saying that no one else who showed interest was able to take the dog immediately. If we could, he was ours.

We jumped in the car and drove through a pounding rainstorm. Minchy was one of a litter of two. A college student in the area thought it would be "fun" to breed hunting dogs, then realized what he had wrought. When we went into the basement to see our potential pet and his brother, it was like watching two Tasmanian Devils on a rampage. I never even got a really good look at him until we had him in the car 20 minutes later. The family who was giving him up was friends with the student who'd bred the dogs. They agreed to keep one, but couldn't handle both of them.

Minchy was passed around to several homes before he got to us, including a nearly blind elderly woman in a high-rise apartment who thought this very obviously unneutered boy was a little girl. By the time he came to live with us, he had a severe case of separation anxiety, in addition to his intense energy, beagle stubbornness, and Jack Russell intelligence. He was a handful, to say the least.

The minute we left for work (and leaving the house was a major production, involving Minchy hiding and avoiding capture) he would destroy. He chewed CDs that were on shelves in our bedroom, chewed the shelves, tore apart a handful of beaded bracelets, turned his little bed inside out and shredded the foam to bits, and frequently peed on our bed. In spite of all this, we never once thought of giving him up. He was ours, part of our family, and if he was having troubles, we'd do what we could to help him through them.

I started working as fundraising director at our SPCA about eight months after we adopted Minchy, and it was a lifesaver. I got advice nearly every day from the shelter dog behaviorist, who was the one who diagnosed Minchy's separation anxiety. She gave us many techniques for working to quell his panic when we left the house. Having him neutered, as well as learning to use treat-filled Kongs as distractions, helped to calm our boy down and become less destructive. 

Even at his worst, he was the most loveable of dogs, snuggly in a way my childhood dog never was. The first night we brought him home, we'd made a little bed out of blankets for him at the foot of our bed. He took one look at it and jumped up on our bed, burrowing down under the covers between us. I remember he looked at both of us like, "Hey, guys! Nice to meet you! Good night!"

Part 2 will feature Frances' story. 

Frances (L) and Minchy (R)

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If you adopted a pet from a shelter or rescue group and you'd like to share his or her story, please email me. I'd love to hear from you!

Willow's Story

Pet's name: Willow
Adopted by: Ruth and Chris
From: Noah's Ark Animal Welfare Association, Ledgewood, N.J.

Ruth (who blogs at Artful Creations by Ruth Welter) wrote the story of her dog, Willow. Ruth hopes that Willow's story will encourage others to adopt, and she is happy to answer any questions about her adoption experience by email.

My husband Chris and I adopted Willow in April of 2000 from Noah's Ark Animal Welfare Association in Ledgewood, N.J. We had just lost one of our Shih Tzus two weeks before, and while I wasn't in a rush to find another dog as a companion for my remaining Shih Tzu, Dudley, when it is right, you just know it. I found Willow on Petfinder, a wonderful site that lists dogs and cats available through different animal shelters and rescue groups. Even when I don't have a vacancy sign out by my house, I always find myself looking at the little souls listed on the Petfinder site. When I saw Willow's little face on that site, I knew we had to make the journey down to New Jersey to meet him.

The shelter asked that we bring our Shih Tzu (Dudley) so they could see our little guy and we could introduce him to Willow. Out from the back room comes Willow, the sweetest and friendliest little Tzu you would ever want to meet. He was found wondering the streets of NYC and ended up in a high-kill shelter there. Noah's Ark took him out to the country and gave him a better chance at finding a new home. The minute we saw him, we thought he would be the right addition to our family.

Since he was found wandering the streets, nothing was really known about Willow. He was thought at the time to be about five years old, blind in his left eye due to some sort of blunt trauma, and was not house-trained in the slightest in all his five years on the planet. He did however have the prettiest, sweetest face and the best personality we could have asked for. Someone at the shelter named him Willow and I loved that name, but most importantly, I thought it fit him perfectly, so "Willow" it was. In another week, when Willow was cleared to leave after his neuter surgery, we went back to pick him up and bring him back to live in New York.

 Amazingly, even though he had never received any house-training, he learned beautifully. We started by taking him outside, and when he did his potty in the yard, he received a cookie. I have to say that the lure of food made him catch on like a light. Before we knew it, he was perfectly potty-trained and has rarely ever had accidents in the house. I think he was definitely more attached to my husband Chris at first then he was to me, but we all bonded in no time flat, and that was the beginning of a long and happy life with all of us together.

Front to back: Orchid, Willow, and Dudley

In the fall of 2000 we added Orchid to our family and she became attached very quickly to Willow. I have to say, he wasn't too happy to meet her at first; she was a full-of-pep puppy that singled him out to be her future play companion. He decided he would be a little grumpy about the whole thing and just go in his crate and hope for the best, that she would just disappear. Not too far down the road from that first shaky meeting, Willow and Orchid became fast friends and play buddies.

Since the spring of 2000, Willow has lived happily with us and our two other dogs. I think by adopting him, we gave him a chance at happiness and he in turn has brought joy and happiness into our lives, just by being with us each day.

I would really encourage others to adopt through shelters and rescue groups; there are so many animals out there that need homes and you really can make a difference for a little life by adopting from one of these organizations.

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If you adopted a pet from a shelter or rescue group and you'd like to share his or her story, please email me. I'd love to hear from you!

Phineas' Adoption Story

Pet's name: Phineas
Adopted by: Christa Avampato
From: New York Dachshund Rescue and the Westchester Shore Humane Society in Harrison, N.Y.

Christa (who blogs at Christa in New York) adopted Phineas just about a year ago. Here is his story:

Puppy Love

After months of deliberation, I rescued a dog from the Humane Society. Meet Phineas (Phin for short), a black-and-tan, 14-pound dachshund, part wirehair, part smooth-coat, part mini, part standard-size. About two years ago, we lost our dachshund, Sebastian, and it was a heartbreaking event for my entire family. We really loved that little guy, and for the first time I spent a year without a dog in my life. It took me about a year before I could mention Sebastian’s name without crying and begin a new chapter in my life with canines. And just as I decided I was ready, Phineas appeared through the help of New York Dachshund Rescue and the Westchester Shore Humane Society in Harrison, N.Y.

I woke that morning as if it were Christmas, eager to meet Phineas and see if we were a match. I knew in just a few minutes that this guy was the one for me—now if only dating were so easy (and I suppose it is with the right guy!). My newly retired mom, a great dog lover, met me at the Humane Society and agreed to watch him that weekend while I was out-of-town at a wedding. I had spent months reading Cesar Milan’s books and plowed through many of Temple Grandin’s, too, in an effort to understand how dogs think and how to give them the very best lives possible by giving them what they need, not what we need.

Phineas and I just celebrated his second birthday (given that he was about a year old when I adopted him, we just made his adoption day his birthday) and our first anniversary. In that time he has shown me that waking up ecstatic about life is the only way to live, carving your own path in life is fun, and realizing the gift of this moment requires letting go of the sadness we’ve felt in past moments. He appreciates the sunshine where and when we can get it (he is not a fan of the rain), and he lets the rhythms of nature determine when to eat, play, and sleep. 

The greatest lesson he’s taught me has very much to do with his past. About a year ago, a policeman found Phineas in an abandoned building, lonely, cold, and hungry. He had a tag on, and the policeman picked him up and went to the address on Phin’s tag. He must have anticipated that the little guy lost his way and would be so glad to find his way back home. Instead, the policeman found a boarded-up home in very bad condition, and it looked as if no one had lived there in a very long time. He brought Phin to the Humane Society, and they contacted New York Dachshund Rescue. The rest, as they say, is history.

Christa and Phineas just after they met for the first time

It must have been a terrible feeling to be dropped off on the side of the road, left behind to fend for himself. Or worse, I guess it’s possible that he ran away from a terrible home. I can’t let myself think about this idea too often because I will be a puddle of tears in a matter of seconds with that thought rattling around in my head. Phineas, however, has found, learned, and shared a powerful lesson from his past: love heals.

I’ve often heard it said that time heals all wounds, but I actually think love is a more complete and efficient healer than time. Time is a finite gift; the amount of love we can take in and give away is infinite. The only limit love knows is our desire to give and receive. Phineas can never get enough and can never give enough. He’s a wonderful role model of courage and bravery, for believing that life can always get better no matter how far down in the doldrums we are. Love is what helps us make that journey.

A year ago, he was starving and lonely, abandoned in the woods. Today, he sleeps in a warm, down-filled bed in a (cozy) penthouse apartment on the upper west side of Manhattan, has a bottomless bowl of organic food, and laps up buckets of overflowing love that are showered on him every day by me, his friends (human and canine), and even random strangers on the street who fall in love with him on sight just like I did. He let go of his past and moved on so that he could appreciate all the love available to him in his new life.

We should all be as appreciative as he is of the gift of another day. And we can be. All we have to do is give love, receive love, and revel in the exchange. This is the kind of profound lesson that a shelter dog can teach if only we give him the chance.

Grace's Adoption Story

Grace

Pet's name: Grace
Adopted by: Sheryl
From: Lollypop Farm, Humane Society of Greater Rochester, Fairport, N.Y.

Sheryl wrote this tribute to Grace after she said goodbye to her on May 21. Since then, Sheryl has added another adopted dog to her family.

Goodbye to Grace

I first met Grace, a pit bull/greyhound/Lab mix, a little over 10 years ago at Lollypop Farm, a local animal shelter. I was shopping for a new dog about a year after I lost my first husband and my old German shepherd, who followed him shortly after. I almost missed her—she was huddled in a frightened little ball in the corner of her cell. I visited with each dog there, trying to discern compatibility in two-minute visits with each. On my second pass, she uncurled a little and looked up, so I decided to take her for a walk to see how she responded.

I led her outside to the back of the shelter, and she walked with her head down and tail between her legs. She never looked up nor gave any reaction. We went to a room where I could take her off the leash, and she stood in the corner in the same frightened stance. When I called her she came to me slowly, and I could feel how tense she was. I began to wonder if this dog had any life left in her. She was only six years old but acted like an old woman. The shelter volunteer suggested that we take her outside into a courtyard they have there, so we could see her outside off the leash.

When let free, she skulked to the other side of the small enclosed space, then she started sniffing around. Apparently she found something that interested her, because for the first time she lifted her tail up and began a small wag. Seeing that, I said to the volunteer “I’ll take her!” I was smitten already, I guess—I was only waiting for a sign to push me over the edge! The volunteer, knowing the poor show Grace had put on previously, asked me “Are you sure?” Yes.

Filling out the paperwork with Grace lying beside me, several volunteers came up to me and said, “Oh, you’re taking Grace? We love her! She’s our favorite!” Any doubts I might have had in the back of my mind quickly dissipated.

Peanut's Adoption Story

Ashley and Peanut

Pet's name: Peanut
Adopted by: Ashley Dewey
From: Paws and Purrs Rescue, Inc., Scottsville, N.Y.

Ashley, a shelter volunteer who blogs about her dogs and local pet-related events at The Adventures of Peanut and Bailey, shared Peanut's story:

I adopted Peanut from Paws and Purrs Rescue in 2009 when she was six months old. Paws and Purrs is a great rescue group that brings up a lot of dogs from down south from overcrowded shelters. She was a little firecracker! I had no problem housetraining her; she picked up on that right away. I started taking her to puppy training classes at Lollypop Farm as soon as I could. She did well in the classes—we took three different sets of training classes. I felt this was a good way for her to interact with different dogs. One of the trainers mentioned that she might like flyball since she was so fast. We signed up for a training class at Boom Towne, and she was so good, they asked us to join the team! We have been doing flyball for a year now, and Peanut is almost ready to compete.

Peanut made us realize how well behaved our first adopted dog, Bailey, was! The first time we went to work, I put them both in the kitchen, put up the baby gates, and—pop!—she jumped over them like it was nothing! After several attempts at barricading her in, I realized I had to crate her. I was lucky and worked close by, so I came home on lunch and walked the two of them. I soon discovered that wasn't enough to burn off my crazy puppy's energy. One of the trainers at Lollypop Farm recommended interactive toys such as frozen Kongs. That worked great, but she still needed more. That's how Peanut started going to daycare. I found an amazing retired couple to watch her a few days a week while I was at work.

Adopting Peanut has given me the chance to meet other dog lovers and learn about dog training and behavior. She's my sweet little spoiled girl and I wouldn't trade her for anything. You can watch videos of Peanut on my YouTube channel.

Peanut's hobbies:

• Bothering the cats
• Flyball
• Running
• Laser pointer (her fav)
• Walking around the farm at Lollypop Farm and sniffing the animals

Peanut strikes a pose

Harry, Sally, Zico, and Diego's Adoption Stories

L to R: Zico, Harry, Diego, Sally

Pets' names: Harry, Sally, Zico, and Diego
Adopted by: Kate A. and family
From: The Animal Welfare League of Alexandria (Virginia) & Lollypop Farm, Humane Society of Greater Rochester (New York)

I used to be a dog person. I had grown up alongside dogs (an Irish setter and Labrador retrievers), and I certainly never expected to get a cat. I wasn’t crazy about the idea of having litterboxes in the house or feline footprints on the kitchen counters, and cats didn’t strike me as very interesting or friendly.

Today my family has four cats and three litterboxes.

Back in 2006, my husband and I were living in Maryland, not far from D.C. We had recently moved from a “no pets allowed” apartment to our own townhouse, and we wanted to get a pet. After briefly thinking about adopting a greyhound (well, I don’t know about my husband, but I considered it), we decided that we just didn’t have time for a dog. One day at work, I was talking to a cat-loving coworker, and she suggested adopting a cat. I don’t know why that conversation made such an impact on me, but I started thinking, “Yes, let’s adopt a cat!”

After we decided to go for it, I spent for hours online looking for the right cat. We went to a shelter nearby, the Montgomery County Humane Society, but we didn't "click" with any of the kitties. Then we tried the Animal Welfare League of Alexandria, and there we met Brad and Angelina, a pair who had come in together when their former owners moved. They were cute and seemed friendly and playful. We considered another pair—two orange brothers—but after spending a little time with everyone, we filled out an application for Brad and Angelina, and soon, we brought them home. We had filled a sheet of paper with possible “pair” names (“Brad” and “Angelina” definitely had to go), and we finally settled on Harry and Sally. (I love using “people names” for pets—how about you?) They settled in quickly, and soon ... I became a cat person.

"I'm Zico in a box. I'm Zico in a cardboard box."

Two years later, we were living in New York, and I was working at an animal shelter (where I still work today). Two four-month-old kittens named Cadbury and Snickers—they’d been abandoned and brought to the shelter—were temporarily living in my office, and I quickly fell in love. Now, I LOVE kittens, but I’ve met many kittens since, and none of them have produced the same reaction as these two, which was “MUST. ADOPT. THEM.” And soon, we had doubled our cat population. Cadbury and Snickers became Zico and Diego—we named them after soccer players because of the way they played with their cat toys.

So, in a span of several years, I’ve transitioned from “dog person” to “person who lives in a home with more cats than people." (The ratio is four to three.) Although we spend a LOT of money on chicken-flavored cat food and have found fang marks in many of our prized possessions, I don’t know what we’d do without our cats.