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Rusty

Male Kitten Domestic Shorthair Small

Little Rusty is just a baby who had to grow up too fast. Rusty was found in a yard trying to hunt geese at 4 months old with no litterma... show more

Little Rusty is just a baby who had to grow up too fast. Rusty was found in a yard trying to hunt geese at 4 months old with no littermates or mother in sight. Goose hunting wasn’t going so well for him and he was brought to the SPCA to make sure he got all the food, warmth, and love he needed. He knows his size isn’t very intimidating, so he hisses to try and keep himself safe when you first approach him. He is being very brave and accepting gentle pets in the community room while nestled into the cat tree. He has been well- mannered with the other cats, and even seeks them out for comfort sometimes; he’s just a kitten, after all. Rusty isn’t ready to be a social, playful kitten. He didn’t have time to learn how to play while he was outside, he was just trying to survive. He doesn’t quite understand that being held is a safe thing, and would prefer you start with soft, gentle pets on his rump and behind his ears. He’s made slow and steady progress with people and has even started leaning into scratchies! Despite his skittish behavior, Rusty is not mean. He is just a baby who has had to protect himself all his life. He is still learning that the world isn’t hard and scary. He needs someone who understands he will need significant time to adjust and is patient enough to show him the love and compassion the world has to offer. show less

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Parish

Female Adult Domestic Shorthair Medium

Hello everyone! It's Parish here coming to you live from the SPCA of Hancock County this fine winter day! Buckle up folks, my story is a... show more

Hello everyone! It's Parish here coming to you live from the SPCA of Hancock County this fine winter day! Buckle up folks, my story is a long and elaborate one full of travel, devastating circumstances, and gratitude. Now picture this as you cozy up with a cup of tea and a box of tissues, A kitten with a short orange and black colored tail wanders through the streets of Dallas, Georgia. No place to call home, no people to love.  Ya see, I didn't come from a loving, cozy home like most of the other cats in the shelter with me. I was alone, surviving off my strengths and the kindness of passing strangers. Always hoping, never abandoning the hope for a family of my own. I can picture it clearly now, I was around a year old when I was picked up. I had a certain type of expectation during that car ride after being taken from everything I had come to know. I was picturing a family of my own. A cozy bed by a fire, waking up on a Christmas morning ready and waiting for the family I called mine to shower me with love and attention. That happy dream came to a screeching halt as I was deposited into a cold metal kennel with no room for me to sleep except next to my own filth and excrement. The people taking care of me kept reassuring me that it was better than being outside. that my belly was full now and I wasn't on the constant run. But I don't know, it's hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel when you're in that type of situation.  Days felt like weeks as I lived in the tiny metal box that the people there called my home. I was beginning to accept my fate and attempt to look on the bright side of things before early one morning my life turned upside down again. One of my handlers, someone who had seen me nearly every day for some time, that I had begun to trust, greeted me much earlier than usual. She put me in an even smaller box with a grate-like window on the front. It was hard to imagine a smaller entrapment than what I had been living, but here we were. I was put into a large moving box truck, one of the many things I would have run to escape from in what seemed like my past life. I was there for days bumping and turning as the truck drove me and nearly fifty other cats to "our new homes". It was dark outside when we finally stopped for the last time. They opened the large door to the truck and it was noticeably colder, the air was crisp, chilling me to the bone. I was welcomed into a nice room, it smelled like cleaner and had the faint smell of other cats on all the linens, but still, it was much better than the tiny box I had been in. One by one, the cats I had taken this voyage with were released by my side to explore the food and finally use the litter box. The strange people trying to pet us sounded much different than the handlers I had before. The room was warm and the food was tasty and for the first time in my life, I felt like I could call this home. Little did I know life has the potential to throw curve balls, good and bad. I was greeted by a family, a mother, a father, and a few kids. The kids were loud, but I could tell they were trying. I decided if they wanted me, I would accept them and call them my own. I was finally welcomed into a HOUSE to call my own. I had a family to cuddle and love. I had dogs to love on. I had the whole upstairs to share with another cat, and we loved it there. I soon became very very itchy. My family brought me to the vet and got the horrible news that I was allergic to something in the cat food. They started giving me new food, it tasted different but it wasn't too bad. The food didn't do the trick though, and I could keep myself from eating the other cat's food. After doing what they could, my family decided that for my safety I needed to go back to the shelter. Now, my dear readers, please time-travel with me to my current state. I'm eating the same special food, living in not the exact same but a very similar room, and getting a few meds that I eat in my wet food every day. I'm itchy sure, but not nearly as bad as it was. I'm looking through the tunnel we so often call life, and I'm seeing another home. A home where I'm the only cat. A home where I'm spoiled rotten and my family can afford the expensive food and meds that I'm getting. I'm looking through the tunnel and at the end, there is a light, not a blinding white light, but a soft yellow light like the sun. It's shining down showing a picture of me. I'm not wearing a cone anymore. My skin has scars of past trauma that will always be there, but there are no new marks, proving that the itchy skin I have to live with isn't causing me any more problems. And that is truly all I want for Christmas. If anyone is out there who is willing to give me a home, a permanent place to call mine, I would be eternally grateful.  show less