animal stories

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New Substack: The Kind Life

The Kind Life

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The Kind Life

I’m Carolyn Cott, an animal-welfare advocate and professional writer who’s always asking, “How can we make things better for the creatures who share our world?” Perhaps you’re asking the same question.

Whether you’re a seasoned rescuer, a caring pet parent, or someone who simply wonders, “What can I do to help?” this space is for you. Here’s what you’ll find:

  • Heartfelt, real-life stories of animals (and humans) that uplift and surprise
  • Research and insights into animal behavior, antics, and communication
  • Myths versus facts about animals, animal advocacy strategies that work, and human-animal connection
  • Interviews with vets, rescue workers, trainers, and public officials
  • Practical ideas—mini-actions and meaningful moves—that you can easily act on

I know that a lot of writing about animal welfare can feel heavy or alarming. Here we shift the tone to hope and curiosity rather than fear, to connection over detachment, and to actions—big and small—that are doable and feel meaningful.

I’d love to hear from you: your thoughts, your questions, even weird things your dog or cat does (my ears will perk up), and topics you’d like to see featured.

Here’s to kindness in action, discovery in every paw print, and shared steps toward a gentler world. Please subscribe for a weekly letter delivered to your inbox and please share this post. Thank you!

Warmly,
Carolyn Cott

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The Kingfisher’s Flight

The pond’s edge is glassy, the middle wind-rippled.  From the birch tree I peer into the water.  Pondweeds corkscrew up to the surface, blooming tiny flowers.  Lily pads open themselves to the sky.  I wait.

On the far shore a beaver slaps her tail.  The woods creatures pause and look, then return to foraging.  I wait.

Sun and shadow move across the far hill and meadow grasses sway.  High summer has passed and the earth exhales toward autumn.  I wait.

As the sun sinks toward the horizon, ephemeral insects dip and dance above the water.  A flicker of silver rises toward the pond’s surface.  I lean into the wind and dive.  As the fish spirals out of the water, shedding sun-glinting droplets, I intercept it.  Then I spread my wings and fly, hearing the whoosh, whoosh of my wings in the wind.

–

UntoldAnimalStories.org is a nonprofit organization that seeks to invite small acts of kindness toward animals.

We welcome guest bloggers.  If you’re interested, please contact us at untoldanimalstories@gmail.com or via our contact page.

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Ollie & Spuds – Chapter 6

Think, Think, Think

Spuds wakes up and sniffs the air. It’s warm-cool and carries the smell of green growing things. Feeling hopeful, Spuds stretches and then gently paws Ollie’s cheek to wake him.

Ollie twitches and opens one eye as a warning to Spuds. Spuds pointedly turns away and looks upward, as though the sky is suddenly interesting. Then she leaps onto Ollie’s back. This sends shivers up Ollie’s spine. He sits up abruptly, which sends Spuds careening off of him. She lands gracefully, looks at him expectantly, and paces. We need to go out, now.

Ollie does a down-dog stretch and then shakes. The motion starts at his tail and progresses to his snout, from which spit flies like raindrops. Spuds squints against this.

They walk out the alley and onto the street together and make their rounds: trash cans, dumpsters, the park. Ollie finds half of a bagel beneath a park bench and offers to share it with Spuds, who has no interest. She’s scanning the area under a thicket of shrubs for any movement of mice. No luck. They amble on, skirting a stray dog working on a garbage bag, and slip down a side street.

Ollie smells something delicious. His raises his head, flares his nostrils, and takes off at a trot. Spuds runs to keep up with him. Ollie’s nose leads him to a truck parked in an alley. The door of the truck is rolled up and delicious scents come from within it. They look around, see no one, and scamper up the ramp.

There are cheeses, lots of cheese—in wheels, in boxes. Ollie selects a ripe-smelling cheese wrapped in cloth, holds it between his paws, and tears the wrapping. Together the animals devour it, their snouts covered in soft cheese. Partway through their feast they glance at each other with glee.

So engrossed are they that they do not notice a man approaching the truck. He is unaware of the animals and rolls down the steel door. Ollie and Spuds dash toward the opening. Spuds sees she can make it through the remaining opening, but Ollie is too chesty. She stops. Ollie looks at her, wrinkling his brow. Spuds looks away.

Slits of daylight edge the door. The engine starts and the truck jolts forward. Ollie and Spuds splay their feet, lower themselves to the floor, and look at each other with wide eyes.

As the ride proceeds smoothly they are able to stand up. Ollie is nose level with a round of cheese. He takes a bite of it. Spuds watches and then jumps up on the cheese wheel and eats as well.

They eat until the truck lurches to a stop. They hear voices outside the truck and position themselves at the side of the door, Spuds first, Ollie behind. When a man rolls open the door, they leap from the truck and run, looking back. One of the men stoops down and calls to the animals, extending his hand outward, palm up. The other man says, ”If we can catch them, I’ll drop them off at the humane society on the way back.”

The men walk toward them slowly, calling softly, but Ollie and Spuds sprint toward the woods. There they tuck themselves behind a boulder and peering through leafy undergrowth, watch the men walk away.

When the men are out of sight, Ollie and Spuds look around. The fields that surround the town from which they fled are dotted with clusters of trees and farms and edged by hedgerows. In the far distance, there is another small town. At the bottom of a steep slope behind them they hear a stream and walk toward it, Spuds picking her way gracefully, Ollie sliding downhill in places. They drink their fill.

Ollie lies down, rests his head on his paws, and closes his eyes. Spuds paws gently at Ollie’s snout, and when he opens his eyes she looks pointedly, repeatedly between the deeper woods and Ollie.

Ollie rises with a groan and follows Spuds through the woods. She doesn’t always choose a path suited to Ollie’s size; at places he has to scoot on his belly. They come to an outcropping of rocks protected by thicket of bushes and there lie down. A large animal ambles into view. It chews slowly in a circular way, bending its head toward the earth and raising it, its mouth bristling with grasses. The creature looks at Spuds and Ollie with a long, steady, neutral gaze. Spuds nestles closer to Ollie, and they sleep.

(c) 2024 Carolyn Cott – To be continued

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Ollie & Spuds – Chapter 4

With That Picture in Mind, She Could Sleep

Spuds returned to the alley where she had lived with her kittens and sniffed the air, smelling their scents. She walked out the alley and never returned.

She spent her nights wandering, half-heartedly hunting for food, nibbling at tidbits in dumpsters. Spuds slept during the day wherever she felt reasonably safe, tucking herself behind boxes and dumpsters or in a cluster of trees and shrubs in a park. She had difficulty sleeping without her kittens to curl around, but there was one hopeful image that allowed her to drift toward sleep: kind hands taking care of her kittens, giving them food, water, care. Her first thought upon waking was of her kittens: the way the sun shone on their fur, their ticked whiskers alternating white and tan to the tips, their stubby tails, fuzzy and broad at the base and tapering.

One morning when Spuds was searching for a place to sleep, she wandered into a part of the city where women’s high-heeled shoes clicked purposefully on the sidewalk and men’s overcoat tails flew behind them in the wind. Shiny, large cars purred along the street. She sniffed the air and followed the scent to an alley with a fragrant-smelling dumpster. At the end of the alley she noticed a mouse moving along a wall. Noiselessly and slowly, with her ears flattened to disguise herself, she moved toward the mouse, pounced, and missed. Only then did she notice the dog. He was stretching and keeping a wary eye on her.

To be continued

(c) Carolyn Cott 2023

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Ollie & Spuds – Chapter 3

Holding the Gaze of Each One

Spuds hunted by night and slept by day. She moved every few days, eventually coming to the city where she was able to augment hunting with cast-off food in garbage bins.

Spuds came across a band of other cats in a city park and tried to live with them, but they were as prone to fighting as they were to grooming each other. She left and eventually made her home in a partially crushed box in a trash pile on a quiet side street. It was often bitter cold, but there were plenty of mice to hunt. Water was the issue. She learned to drink to excess when it rained and to withstand thirst when it did not. In the coldest weather, the water froze, and Spuds went without water for days. It was difficult not to crave it and sleep was her only escape, but sleep was never deep and sound. Part of her mind remained alert for danger.

By late winter, Spuds’ belly had grown. One morning she birthed four tiny kittens, three orange, and the smallest a pale ginger. These little creatures evoked more love in Spuds than she’d ever felt, even beyond that she felt for the old man.

The need for food increased and so she hunted more. Each time she left her kittens she communicated to them soundlessly through pictures in her mind: do not move, do not mew. She held the gaze of each of them in turn before leaving.

As the kittens grew, Spuds couldn’t keep them sequestered, and they needed to be taught to hunt. They wandered with her on some nights through the streets and alleys searching for food. Twice she had to fight dogs to keep her kittens safe. Once the ginger-colored kitten barely escaped the wheels of a car.

Spuds sensed the time was near when the kittens would wander off to start their own lives. At dawn after a night’s hunt, when they settled down to sleep, Spuds sent them images of the life she once had, of the life she hoped they would find: a fireplace, kind hands setting down bowls of food and water, a soft place to sleep, and safety, safety, safety.

During one of her solo nighttime wanderings, Spuds came upon a building from which came a chorus of meows and barks. Spuds listened. In the varied calls there was mostly complaining and questioning.

Over the next two days she ventured out during the daytime to the building, hid in the shrubbery and watched. A van came and went, from which emerged a large man stuffed into a uniform. His face was always serious. The dogs he brought in were often skinny and haunted looking. The cats he brought in were yowling and flattened to the bottom of their carrying cases. Other people came and went, some teary-eyed and bringing animals in, some bringing animals out and chattering to the bewildered-looking cat or dog.

Spuds gathered her brood over a feast of freshly caught mice. The kittens finished their meal and Spuds crunched through the remains of mouse bones. After they had washed their faces, cleaned their whiskers, and were content, Spuds sent them images of her plan. They paid attention, watching her intently, and then they slept together one final time. Spuds awoke once and looked at her sleeping kittens, memorizing their shapes and the way their breathing moved their bodies gently.

When the moon was high, Spuds nudged the kittens awake. They yawned, stretched, and trailed after her through the streets to the place of meows and barks. Spuds settled them beneath a shrub by the front door and waited. As the sun rose, Spuds licked their faces and looked into their eyes, conveying love. When each kitten held her gaze and blinked slowly, Spuds moved her focus to the next kitten.

People started coming to the building, their purposeful footfalls clicking on the pavement. Spuds saw the man in the uniform coming up the walk. She nudged the ginger-colored kitten out from under the shrub. The kitten meowed. Spuds nudged the other kittens and they followed their sister.

The uniformed man looked down at the kittens and sighed. He scooped up all four of them in his arms at once and then saw Spuds. He called to a woman coming up the walk behind him. She reached beneath the bush toward Spuds, but Spuds panicked and dashed away. The woman ran after her, but Spuds was faster. Before turning the corner, Spuds looked back toward her kittens, watching the last stubby orange tail disappear through the door.

to be continued

© 2023 Carolyn Cott

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Ollie & Spuds – Chapter 2

A Well-Shod Foot

The cat’s name is Spuds. The old man who’d found her thought she looked like the color of Yellow Finn potatoes. He’d pulled the mewing, trembling kitten out from under a bramble on a roadside. He stroked her fur with work-rough hands, looked into her gold-green eyes, and took her home.

Spuds had a good life with the old man: She curled up on the rug by the wood stove in winter, dozed on the screened porch in the summer. Spuds loved the old man; they understood each other. But one morning when she went up to his room to inquire about breakfast, something was different. She jumped onto the bed, stood on his chest, and peered at him. She could sense him, but he wasn’t there. She meowed, calling to him. Then she saw a picture in her mind: it was he, and his eyes were blue, dazzling, and loving. Then the image receded and he was gone, as was the sense of him being in the room. Spuds looked at him one last time and left the room.

Four days passed during which Spuds clawed her way through a bag of cat food and found that fresh toilet water wasn’t completely undrinkable.

Then one person came and then a cluster of them—people Spuds had never seen before. They pawed the old man’s possessions, argued with each other, and carried things out of the house. Spuds watched. A woman noticed Spuds and picked her up in one hand, dangling her. Her bangle bracelets clanged together as she walked to the door and dropped Spuds outside. Spuds sniffed the air and turned to go back inside. The woman blocked Spuds’ way with a well-shod foot. “You’re free now kitty, go away.” She closed the door with a thud.

Spuds looked for a long while at the closed door. Then she walked down the driveway. Before turning onto the road, she looked back at the house. The windows glinted in the sun.

to be continued

(c) 2023 Carolyn Cott

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Ollie & Spuds – Chapter 1

By Carolyn Cott ©2023

Chapter 1 – The Alley

It’s been three days now since the cat appeared in Ollie’s alley. He thinks of it as his alley because he’s been there how long now? Two months, maybe four. He remembers arriving there. There was snow.

The man had unchained him, pulled him into the car, and drove. Ollie wanted to enjoy the car ride, but something was very wrong. The man hunched over the steering wheel, his jaw tight. The children weren’t there, although the back seat smelled vaguely of peanut butter, and the woman wasn’t in the front seat, turned toward and talking to the children.

The man stopped on a deserted city street. Looking both ways before opening the back door, he pulled Ollie out by the scruff of the neck and sped off.

Ollie ran after the car as it moved farther away, turned a corner, and was gone. He memorized the place where it had turned. Panting, he sat down, only then noticing the cold. The sun had just risen, casting chilly light on the blank faces of the buildings. A tattered awning blew in the wind. A spear of an icicle crashed onto the sidewalk.

•

Ollie ate snow but it wasn’t enough to quench his thirst and it made him shiver. He wandered the streets, looking for a familiar landmark and searching for food. Then he found the alley that smelled of food and garbage.

Ollie tucked himself behind a stack of wooden pallets and lay on a pile of cardboard where he felt relatively safe. A man in a stained apron pushed open a door with his foot and heaved a delicious-smelling bag into a dumpster. When the door clanged shut, Ollie scampered up the stack of pallets and into the dumpster, tore at the bag with his teeth, and ate.

He developed a routine of wandering the streets at night hunting for food and returning to his alley in the early morning before cars and people arrived. He learned it was not good to be out when people were about. There was an afternoon when boys chased him: chubby-cheeked boys in blue uniforms, dragging book bags and pitching stones at him. Most whistled past, but one hit him. Ollie yelped and slowed down. They were almost upon him when he ran again, cutting across a busy road, and losing them. Returning to his alley exhausted and thirsty, Ollie went to the base of a downspout and drank the small amount of water there. He slipped behind the pallets, curled into a tight ball, and slept.

•

Ollie frequently dreams of home, of his children, of the bowls of fresh food and water. When he wakes, he holds onto the memory before opening his eyes.

One morning Ollie smells something new. With his head still resting on his paws, he scans the alley and spots the flash of a ginger-colored cat, skinny and in pursuit of something at the far end of the alley.

Ollie rises and stretches, keeping an eye on the cat. The cat pounces and misses a mouse that leaps into a small hole in the wall. She then saunters into a narrow beam of sunlight slanting down between the buildings and washes herself, the sun sparking on her ginger fur. She lies down, curls her tail neatly around her toes, and closes her eyes to slits. She knows the dog is there. She is watching.

– to be continued –

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A Puerto Rican Pup Whose Luck Changed

Valentina was found wandering the inhospitable streets of Puerto Rico. In an act of unthinkable cruelty, someone had covered her from the neck down in hot tar and set her loose to suffer. But Valentina was lucky; someone spotted her.

GreaterGood.org was born out of a desire to make a real difference—to connect people who want to help with people who are on the front lines in adverse situations. We work with over 150 charity partners worldwide, and operate several of our own on-the-ground programs to ensure your donation has maximum impact. Together, we can make a world of difference for people, pets, and the planet.

When emergency cases like Valentina’s come up, when disaster strikes a community in the U.S. or abroad, when biodiversity hotspots are threatened by development; when shelters are crumbling and schools are in desperate need of supplies, you can rest assured that your donation to Help Where It’s Most Needed is supporting meaningful programs that affect real, positive change.

Puerto Rico Animals pulled Valentina from the streets. With emergency medical funding from GreaterGood.org, they prepared for the agonizing process of removing the tar from her fur and skin. Afterward, she was practically a new puppy! We are thrilled to report that not only has she fully recovered from her ordeal, but she’s also been adopted into a loving forever home.

You can help. Your support makes all our work possible. Double the impact of your year-end donation today. 100% of your gift is tax deductible.

Click here to help dogs like Valentina

 

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The Dog in the Polish Village

ID-10025746 I have no name, but that doesn’t bother me.  What is a name anyway?  I live in the woods near the farmhouse at the edge of the village they call Pierzwin.  The little girl lives in the farmhouse.  She’s small, so small, and toddles when she walks.  She is mine, this I know.  I am hers.  This she knows. The one who doesn’t know is the old woman with whom the girl lives.  The girl must always beg for a scrap of bread for me, which the woman throws far from the farmhouse door, as though this would keep me away from the girl.

When I first saw the little girl playing along the edge of the creek, I knew she was mine to watch over.  She was stooped down looking at a rock, the sun glinting off her flax-colored hair.  I stood downstream, regarding her.  The girl looked up at me and laughed.  I can still hear the sound—like a thin, golden strand twirling up into the air.  I walked to her and nuzzled into the crook of her arm.  She laughed again, breathing sweet breath on me.

Today everything is different.

Yesterday as the day darkened, the little girl played alone in the farmyard.  Snow started, then grew heavy, swirling from every direction.  Instead of going inside, the girl toddled toward the woods.  I watched the farmhouse door to see if the old woman would call for her.  She did not. I followed the girl, a few feet behind her, whining and willing her to turn back.

She meandered to the edge of the creek.  Looking up at the sky, she stuck out her tongue to catch the snowflakes, lost her balance, and slipped down the steep slope toward the water.  I caught the edge of her skirt in my teeth but it did not stop her.  The cloth ripped, the water splashed, and the girl cried.  I leapt to her.  She took hold of my fur, and I pulled us up the slope.

I tried to lead her to the farmhouse, but she turned the other way.  I barked for her to follow me, but she kept her course, away.  I followed.  At the edge of the woods I tried to steer her back, but she sat down, shivering.  I took the arm of her coat gently between my teeth and tugged, but she lay down and cried.  I peered into the darkness.  Was there no one who would come for her?  I thought to run to the farmhouse door and bark, but I couldn’t leave her.  I lay down, circling myself around her small body, willing her shivering to stop.  More snow came.  The girl slept, and so, eventually, did I.

At first light, I heard the calls.  I nosed the girl awake and barked, again and again.  The girl sat up.  I nosed her again: call out, cry out.  She sat mute.  I continued barking.  I sensed the footfalls on the earth before I saw the people.  I ran to the men, then sprinted back and forth between the men and the girl, trying to tell them.  They followed me.  A man scooped the girl into his arms and carried her away.  I stood watching for a few moments then, hanging back, followed.

The old woman ran from the farmhouse door and grasped the girl.  There were so many people, so much noise.  I watched, then retreated.  As I walked into the woods I heard a whistle.  Looking over my shoulder, I saw a man coming toward me.  I thought to dash away, but something in his manner seemed gentle.  I sat down and waited for him to approach.  He extended his hand for me to sniff and touched my head.  “It was you,” he said, “you are the one.  Come.”

I walked a few respectful paces behind him.  We entered the farmyard.  The man said some words to the old woman.  She studied me, then opened the door wide and with a sweep of her hand asked me to enter the farmhouse.  I looked into her eyes for a moment, and then stepped inside to warmth.

 

German shepherd photo by Maggie Smith

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A Letter to Miss Tia

by guest blogger Jay Erb*

January 2015
Dear Miss Tia,

I miss you every day, but this month has stirred my thoughts even more as I remember the 14th anniversary of when we met and the one-year anniversary of when we laid you to rest. Miss Tia 2

You were such a pitiful sight when we met. At 26 pounds, your spine and ribs were showing, ear mites kept you scratching and shaking your head, fleas caused patches of missing fur, and you had an umbilical hernia, but you were still a really cute little dog. Your personality was interesting—so friendly yet so scared that you shook. It didn’t take long before I knew I wanted to adopt you. I bet you really felt better once Dr. G took care of your medical issues, and soon you doubled your weight to get to your healthy 50 – 55 pound range. Every year when you went in for your annual checkup, Dr. G and her staff would comment on what a pretty girl you were and how sad you looked when they first met you.

I really miss our daily walks, and not taking walks with you every day has also really hurt my fitness level. For a while, walking at Coventry Woods wasn’t an option for me, as it felt so empty walking the trails without you. You were such a big part of helping to design and build that trail system. Now other dogs can bring their humans for a hike because of the work you helped to do. I am beginning to enjoy those trails again, because I remember the times we worked on and walked those trails together. Then there were the mental health benefits of our walks. Especially when your Grandmom and Granddad got sick and passed on, those walks in the woods with you really helped me. So many people knew you as my walking partner. Our bicycle rides on the Schuylkill River Trail were a lot of fun too.

Miss TiaThe house still seems really empty without you, especially when I get home and you don’t greet me at the door. Going to bed isn’t the same; I miss your little, contented sigh every night when you’d curl up at the foot of the bed and I’d cover you with your blanket. Meals aren’t the same either, without you lying next to my chair in the kitchen. I continue to see hiding places in each room for your treats when we played your favorite “Find It” game.  I know your Mommy really misses you too.

Thank you for enriching my life, and for being Daddy’s little girl.

Love, Dad

*Jay Erb is Chair of the North Coventry Parks & Recreation Commission.