Right now, a trembling dog is curled against a frozen wall, fighting to stay awake. A hungry cat is crying in the dark, desperate for warmth that never comes.
Without help, they may not survive.
Please, don’t let them face the cold alone. You could be the reason one frightened animal is lifted out of the freezing night and into safety.
𝗗𝗼𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗕𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗠𝗶𝗱𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁: text.spcai.org/iiYpYCBzgFde
𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗦𝗣𝗖𝗔𝗜 𝗧𝗲𝗮𝗺 🐕
To View on Substack, please visit: thekindlife.substack.com
Gracie the cat found her way to us when my daughters were young. She had been thrown from a car and made her way to the yard of a kind couple who cared for her. Their inside cat was highly territorial and wouldn’t tolerate another cat, so they sought a home for this ginger-colored cat. Through a friend of a friend, she came to us.
When she entered our house, Gracie was respectful. She moved gently and quietly, her body and pace relaxed. She observed people and animals before doing anything. Our resident cat was unthreatened and curious about her. Our rescue pit bull befriended her, showing his affection by frequently slurping the side of her face. Gracie squinted against it, shook off the spit, and then gazed fondly at the dog.
Gracie connected deeply with my younger daughter in particular and allowed her to do the things that young girls sometimes do: dress the cat in doll’s clothing, push her around in a pram, and drape her over her shoulder and wander through the house.
Gracie seemed to have an understanding of emotional needs of her humans. One example is this: she had always slept with my younger daughter, but the one and only night she changed her routine was when our beloved pitbull died. That night, Gracie divided her time evenly between us, lending her gentle presence by snuggling against us in our beds before moving to the next person.
I love this peaceful photograph of her. Gracie sat for a long time gazing out at the twilight snowfall. When she turned, she looked at me, blinked slowly (the cat equivalent of a kiss), jumped down, and sauntered through the house.
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Roughly 6.5 million animals enter shelters in the US each year but only 3.2 million are adopted (ASPCA). Progress has been made: compared to 1973, the number of cats and dogs entering shelters annually is down more than 20 million (Humane World for Animals [formerly Humane Society of the United States]).
If you are in the market for a dog or cat, this site is searchable by location, species, gender, age, color, care and behavior, and whether they’re good with kids, dog, and cats: Find an adoptable cat or dog near you: https://www.petfinder.com/
Please take a look on Substack and subscribe for free for a weekly dose of hope with real stories, insights, and simple actions you can take to improve animal welfare.
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:
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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Copper Rules: What would Copper do? Enjoy the change of seasons!
by Raquel Bruno
I started writing Copper Rules when we lost our beautiful Chocolate Lab Mix, Copper, in June. He was that perfect blend of elder statesman and big brother to all of the fosters we watched over, and then eventually to our children. He was my shadow in every way imaginable from sitting at my feet during morning coffee on the patio to laying by my side as my pregnant belly grew. He had an important role to fill, and he did it unconditionally with great purpose and determination. Dogs are known for their love and loyalty, but Copper was different. His depth of soul was felt by everyone who entered his world, and he made sure that everyone felt welcome in his space.
Since then, I have thought deeply about the lessons he instilled within us and even in the ether, he sends his messages daily through feathers, birds and thought transmissions. Copper Rules came to me as a whisper, almost as if he was telling me a secret in my ear. Today as I write this, Fall has begun to show itself with a dip in temperature as well as a transition from greenery to Copper’s coat color, which are highlighted in the trees as the leaves complete their life cycle—just as Copper did. I am reminded that Copper loved the change of seasons. He loved summer, because he could lounge in the shallow water of the ocean or place his Scooby-Doo like body in a tiny kiddie pool but he loved the change into a cooler temperature because of his heavy coat. We live near woods and when he was still able, he relished the idea of long walks on a forest blanket of yellow, red, and orange crunchy leaves under his paws, and taking in aromatic scents of the earth. It brought him life and vital energy. As with any of our four-legged furry family members, in the summer, walks are reduced due to potential heat exhaustion and being that Copper was more than 100 pounds, we made sure not to overtax him. With Fall, he had the freedom to roam for as long as his body allowed him to. It also served many more benefits for the humans in his life as well: a chance to spend quality time together, explore new areas, take in life as it unfolds, and marvel at the beauty this planet provides—a pastime that all family members can enjoy together.
The other seasons were just as enjoyable to Copper. He would bury his snout deep into a snow bank to catch an animal scent and leap up into snowflakes as they cascaded down on his nose in the Winter. He would chase butterflies and take in the aroma of new grass, gardens and flowers in the Spring. He would sunbathe (even during his last final days) and luxuriate in the pleasure of a shallow wave in the Summer. But I think the greatest thing that Copper would want to convey is to find the beauty in each and every moment—a passing of time, if you will, while having gratitude for what each season brings to us. Some of us love the heat, and some of us, love the cold—but the sentiment stays the same. Enjoying each nuance of the beauty each season provides nourishes us. Spending quality time together in each of those seasons is truly what mattered to Copper.
So, Copper wants to know: How will you enjoy your change of the seasons? Will you try a new baking recipe? Will you invent a new holiday just to spend time with family and friends? Will you go for that walk in a park you have never before explored? Will you truly look for the beauty in each moment the seasons provide?
Copper wants to know!
Raquel Bruno is a TV & Film Producer who runs Drive Entertainment Group & Thrive with Drive. When she isn’t producing or life-coaching, she spends her time raising her two beautiful kids with her husband, writing Copper Rules, DJ’ing, and now training their new addition: a lab/border collie mix her family adopted from North Shore Animal League: the very same place they adopted Copper.
Why they named me Frank Sinatra, I am not sure. The neighbors laugh every time they say the name. From what I understand, Frank was a singer, and they named me because of my voice. I wouldn’t say it’s mellifluous, like the birds that live at the borders of our pasture, but to my ears the intake breath sound of Hee and outflow breath sound of Haw have a nice, solid sound, like large farm machinery scraping across the floorboards of the barn. I like that. It makes me less lonely for my kin.
I do have a friend. He’s a horse who shares the pasture and barn with me. His name is Fred. No last name. Wherever he goes, I follow. Mostly he doesn’t mind, but sometimes he swings around toward me with flattened ears, so I back up a few paces. A little later, when he’s not paying attention, I sidle up and stand near him. I’m quite a bit shorter than Fred, but I feel that my being near him somehow adds to my stature.
We came here from different places—here being this roomy pasture with a barn, and a man and woman who live in the stone house. Fred traded hands many times. He made friends at the first few places, but with each subsequent trade he kept more and more to himself. He told me, What’s the use in making friends when humans can decide at any time to send you somewhere else? Horses have no choice. We’re compliant, and we withstand all sorts of things. But that doesn’t mean that our hearts are resilient.
Fred came here five years ago. I don’t think he or I are going anywhere. That’s the feeling I get from our people, and I’ve overheard them talking about letting us live out our days here. Still, Fred keeps himself a little apart from me, just in case. Once in a while, Fred touches my neck with his nose and I bow my head in gratitude.
The man and woman take him on trail rides now and then. Sometimes I go along, led by a long rope. I like the change of view and I’m happy not to have all that saddle and gear strapped to me. We go down to the end of the pasture, out through the gate, across the cool stream, and up into the woods.
Unlike Fred, I wasn’t so much as bought and sold as shunted from one place to another. Children at one barn rode me a few times before becoming bored with me, so I went to another place where men in straw hats and suspenders and women in long, dark dresses worked me hard. I pulled some contraption across a field, back and forth, back and forth. I wasn’t fast or strong enough to suit them, and more than once they lashed my back harder than necessary to get their point across. I strained and tried and sweated, but it was never good enough for them. They believe that animals were put on earth by god for their use. Never once did they touch me with kindness. I closed my mind to it, but I never got used to it.
Eventually they stopped working me and brought in a broader, stouter donkey that pulled whatever they strapped to him. In the pasture, though, he always stood with his head hanging low, his eyes half-closed.
I was sold at auction to the man and woman I live with now. They coaxed me into the trailer and then out of the trailer, down the ramp, and into a pasture of tall, sweet grasses.
I kept waiting for things to unravel—for the food to become meager, for a command to pull something far too heavy, but it never happened. Gradually I came to trust them.
Sometimes at night the man and woman sit on their porch playing wooden stringed instruments. The woman sings. Her voice is like a wisp of wind spiraling up into the sky. Sometimes I’m inspired to sing along with her. When I do, Fred stands nearby and listens attentively to the sound of our voices in harmony and the kind laughter of the man.
-UntoldAnimalStories.org – We tell animals’ stories, sometimes from their perspectives. Gentle in our approach rather than shocking, we invite connection, compassion and, from that, action. We also provide tips on what you can do to help animals, and we seek new action ideas, as well as animal and rescue stories, from you…. Please contact us at untoldanimalstories@gmail.com or via our contact page.
by Robert Leardi, MD
I have loved dogs all of my life, but because my parents wouldn’t allow one in the house, I had to wait until I was out of the house and married before getting one. Since then, many dogs have been in my life, and all but one have been shelter dogs.
The one non-shelter dog was a retired show dog—a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. She was a beautiful 10-year-old, extremely affectionate dog who, like all the dogs in my life, quickly bonded with me. After three months, she suddenly collapsed and died.
Afterward, my daughters began sending me photos of dogs from local shelters. One that caught my eye was a mixed-breed rescue named Sheba, thought to be under six years of age. She reminded me of my first dog, Prince, a Springer Spaniel mix who bonded with me instantly and seemed always to know want I wanted him to do without being asked. He also knew when I was coming home, although my arrival times varied. When we walked, he was at my side, never needing a leash.
Sheba’s adoption records showed that she had been seized by authorities in West Virginia “from a bad situation.” Like so many rescue dogs from the South, she was transported to the North for adoption. I adopted her in June 2023 through a local rescue, Hinde Animal Rescue in Media, PA.
Sheba
Sheba bonded with me quickly, but her mistreatment caused her to be terrorized by almost everything and everyone else. When I stopped to talk with neighbors on our daily walks she would whimper and pull away. Traffic frightened her, as did anything sudden or different. With me, Sheba was calm. I felt honored to be trusted by her and sought ways to expand her sense of safe. A dog psychologist evaluated her but was unable to help her beyond prescribing Fluoxetine, which had to be halved due to side effects.
The elements of time and loving patience seem to have helped the most. It’s been two years since I adopted Sheba, and she now sits or lies down patiently when I talk to neighbors, and her fear of traffic has passed. She is a low-energy, calm dog who loves to walk slowly, doesn’t pull, and walks with a slack leash. She refuses to play fetch, and when I throw a ball for her, it is I who has to retrieve it. Sheba smiles when she looks at me and has become the love of my life. She has become the companion that she is because she lives in a consistently loving environment. I suspect I have derived as much comfort from living with her as she has from living with me.
A tribute to all the dogs that have been in my life.
Gracie the cat found our way to us when my daughters were young. She had been thrown from a moving car and landed, limping, in the front yard of a kind couple who cared for her. They couldn’t take her in because they’re inside cat was quite territorial and wouldn’t allow it. And so they sought a home for the ginger-colored cat, and through a friend of a friend, she came to us.
When she entered our house, Gracie was respectful. She moved gently and silently, her body and pace relaxed. She observed people and animals before doing anything. Our resident cat was unthreatened and curious about her. Our rescue pit bull befriended her immediately, and he frequently showed his affection by slurping her face. Gracie tolerated it, squinted against it, shook off the spit, and then gazed fondly at the dog.
Gracie connected deeply with my younger daughter and allowed all the things that young girls do with cats: dressing her up in doll’s clothing, pushing her around in a pram, draping her over her shoulder and wandering through the house.
Gracie had an understanding of things. One example is this—she always slept with my younger daughter, but the one and only night she changed her routine was when our beloved pit died. That night, Gracie divided her time between all of us, lending her gentle presence and snuggling against us in our beds before moving to the next person.
I love this picture of her. The backdrop is a twilight snowfall. Gracie sat for a long time, gazing outward at the evening. When she turned around, she looked me in the eye, blinked slowly, jumped down, and sauntered through the house.
This week, our friends at 12 Guardian, a rescue organization, were struck by 2 missiles, devastating their building where pets had been staged in advance of a planned evacuation. Miraculously, not a single animal or person was hurt in this attack. All of the pets will be examined by a veterinarian to ensure they didn’t receive concussions, as they were directly under the blasts.
Brave volunteers continue to risk their lives to save innocent animals from the front lines. Hundreds of animals- both owned and stray – are being rescued each week. Many families refuse to evacuate without their pets, while others are forced to leave animals behind in the care of local volunteers. Abandoned and injured animals are also being recovered by dedicated teams operating under extremely difficult and dangerous conditions.
We’re supporting local evacuation teams working across eastern, southern, and northern Ukraine. These volunteer-led groups play a critical role in transporting civilians -often elderly individuals, people with limited mobility, or families with children- as well as assisting with the evacuation and care of animals.
To add to regular pet food support, we are now providing 150 plastic dog kennels and 150 plastic cat carriers to evacuation teams and shelters in key regions. These resources ensure both pets and rescued strays can be moved safely and humanely.
Give now and help fund these efforts. https://theanimalrescuesite.com/products/96167-crisis-in-ukraine-fundraiser-gtgm?variant=39691659411531
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.
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