My name is Jake, and I have a story to tell. By the time I was 2 ½ years old, I’d already been through a lot. My hips hurt me pretty bad, I’d been abused, ignored, shot in the face, starved, dumped at a shelter and separated from my brother. So there I was, sitting in this room full of cages that housed other dogs too. We all talked about how scared we were, and wondered why we’d been put in such a cold, noisy place. Now don’t get me wrong, the people there were really nice to us. They talked to us, petted us, took us for walks, fed us, and even gave some of us lessons on how to act well when people came to visit. The lessons must have been a good thing, because it wasn’t any time at all before those dogs got to leave with some nice people and never came back. I hoped someone nice would come take me too. I was getting pretty lonely without my brother around.

 One day, there were two ladies with a little dog that came to look at all of us. One lady sat in a funny chair with big wheels and the other was limping around and leaning on a stick. But there was something about those ladies… they looked like they’d been through a lot too. Maybe they wouldn’t be mean to a dog like me because they knew what getting hurt felt like. If only I could get their attention.

 Though it hurt to do it, I got up and moved to the door of my cage and watched them intently. I observed the way they reacted as they passed each dog, staying longer in front of some cages than others. I was in the last stall, so sometimes people would pick another dog before they ever got to me. I couldn’t let that happen this time… not with these ladies! So, I concentrate as hard as I could and sent a thought to them, "Hey, look over here!"

 Well, it worked. The lady that leaned on a stick turned around and faced me. She looked straight into my eyes and I held her gaze with my mine. I didn’t understand people talk much back then, so I can only guess what was said between the two ladies. But, I think that the lady with the walking stick wanted to meet me though the lady in the funny rolling chair wasn’t so sure. I put on my best sad face and sent another thought to them, “Please, just give me a chance.”

 Before I knew it, the volunteer that sometimes fed me opened the door and led me to a room where I could meet the two ladies. They were both really nice, though the little dog that came with them was a bit crabby until they put her down where we could meet properly. Her name was Gidget, and she was used to being the only dog. “Still,” she said, “if you keep your distance from my mommy, she’s the one in the rolling chair, we’ll get along just fine.”

 I could tell the lady with the walking stick was hurting pretty bad, but she seemed to ignore the pain while she got down where I was and said hello and then took me for a walk. She talked to me in a sweet voice and never once acted like she was gonna yell or hit me. I knew she was the one for me, and I fell in love.

 Things were confusing when I first arrived at my forever home, but I’m a quick learner and my ladies are such nice teachers, so I figured out a whole lot of stuff really quick. Things like, my name is Jake.. I don’t have to be afraid of little electric boxes anymore... You only go potty outside.. People words... Toys are pretty neat things... If I give Eskimo kisses, hugs, and shake hands, my ladies get really happy... If someone raises their hand it doesn’t mean they want to hit me, and a bunch of other stuff like that.

 There’s something I’ve noticed too. My favorite lady used to hurt a lot, but since we’ve been doing our walks, she’s gotten better. She doesn’t seem to be in pain as often, and she doesn’t need a stick to lean on anymore. And, I don’t hurt near as much either… not since she started giving me Cosamine DS. Now, I can jump, run, and bounce around like a puppy again. Sometimes, my favorite lady still gets a hurt, but when she does, she lays down and then I lay against her back and it makes her feel better again. And I don’t mind doing it because when I get a hurt, she makes mine better too by giving me a little pill and then putting ice or hot packs on my hips. So, I guess you can say we take care of each other.

 So now, a year later, I can say, “My name is Jake and BOY do I have a story to tell! I had it rough once, but my ladies and I saved each other. Now we’ve got the best lives anyone could EVER ask for!”



Me and My Love

 

 

 

The True Story of the

Accidental Cat Hoarder

A few years ago, I let my daughter talk me into catching a stray cat outside our home. She spent two weeks working on befriending this cat. When my daughter was able to finally catch the cat, the cat ran for my daughters room and curled up on her bed. My daughter went to bed the next few days with this cat sleeping in her bed with her. Just seeing how much this cat had taken to my daughter convinced me to let the cat stay. My daughter named her Muffin. A few weeks later I found out that Muffin was pregnant. Her belly had grown rather large despite the fact that she really wasn't eating much, at least I didn't see her eat that much. The night that Muffin gave birth, she had four kittens. 3 boys and 1 girl. I told my daughter that night that we were not keeping the kittens and she was OK with it. Over the next few weeks, it was hard not to get attached to the new little additions. They were so playful, chasing my daughter around the house, loving and had started developing their personalities. When the kittens started climbing, I would find them on my daughters bed with Muffin and my daughter sleeping. When the boys started to show signs that they were “growing up”, I started taking them in to get them fixed. One every payday. By the time I got to the last male, he got Muffin pregnant. I still got him fixed but had to wait on Muffin. 60 days later, Muffin gave birth to a single kitten who was just as cute as the first batch. Five weeks after his birth, my daughters friends showed up at our door selling this kitten that they couldn't get to eat or drink. My daughter paid 10 dollars for the kitten and found out that he was only three weeks. So we had to feed him and show him how to eat and drink on his own when he was a little older. Of course, he and Muffins newest kitten were keepers as well. A year later, Muffin, her female and the other two boys had not been fixed so the boys got the girls pregnant and between them they had 9 kittens. Six months later we had more kittens and more kittens. At one point, we had seven females pregnant with a total of 85 cats and kittens. Trying to feed them was starting to take a toll on our finances, my marriage was taking a hit, our dog was not happy and our house was being destroyed from the constant cat pee and feces. Trying to keep the litter boxes clean was becoming a problem. With the amount of cats that we had, we would be doing the litter boxes every few minutes. If the boxes were not clean the cats would use the floor. The males were not fixed so they were spraying. They would spray anything and everything. There were times when we would be watching TV and one of the males would spray one of us, the dog or each other. It was becoming a serious problem. We couldn't have anyone over because of the house smelling.   No matter how much we cleaned and did the litter boxes, it was out of serious control. Bleach had become my friend, but it still wasn't helping. My kids would go to school and be teased because they smelled from the cat urine.    We even had social services called on us because of the smell. Of course, we spent the next two days cleaning our butts off just to hide the smell. We must have done a good job, because nothing ever happened. Sometime that year, I had come to the realization that I could no longer handle the amount of cats that we had. It had actually come down to the fact that I could no longer feed my family with the amount of cat food we were going through. It had finally come down to they were going to starve or my family was going to starve. I decided to find a no kill shelter to get help. I made the call and they came out to take pictures of the cats. The shelter took some of the kittens to put into foster homes to help relieve some of the stress. Only the kittens came back due to one had gotten sick and was diagnosed with Corona virus. Now I had to seriously sit down and figure out what to do. Unfortunately, the only decision I had was to call the local Humane Society for help. My local Humane Society did help me with a cost. I had to turn all my babies in to them and have them put down. The virus they were exposed to was going to stop them from being adopted because they would have to go to homes where there was no other animal. The virus is contagious. No one would want a sick cat or kitten. So one day, I made several runs to the Humane Society to surrender my cats and have them all put down. I cried the whole time I did this. I hated it, I kept trying to find ways to keep one or two, wondered if they were going to hate me for what I was doing and if they knew how much I loved them and didn't want to do what I was doing. I went from 85 cats to 2. I kept my only two and they were my oldest. They have since passed on and I have not replaced them. I refuse to have another cat in my home. To this day, I still cry over what I did. I feel like I killed them and have been in counseling for it. I can't talk about any of the cats without crying. I have asked my husband if after our kids graduate college if we can sell our home and move somewhere else in the state. He has agreed because there are too many memories for me.

I know if I had gotten the cats fixed in the first place, Muffin after her second pregnancy, I would not have had to go through what I did. I would not have gotten them sick. I kept thinking in the back of my mind that animal hoadering wasn't going to happen to me, only it did. I kept thinking if I kept the girls away from the boys, then they wouldn't get pregnant. When ever a liter was born, I kept saying I would find home for them, only I didn't. The reason was that I didn't want the kittens to think “why did she get rid of us and keep them?” The thought of them going to the humane society and being put in cages didn't sit right with me either. But getting them fixed was out of the question because I couldn't afford it. I never knew how much cats can destroy a home when there are too many.

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SAINT has Talent!