Numa is a 2 year old, 139lb Newfoundland. She’s a giant love, she looks like a bear and acts like the world’s neediest area rug. She wants to be with her people all day, every day, no matter where we’re going or what we’re doing. She loves the local hardware store because they have a secret drawer full of dog treats and she loves going to Maine with us every summer. She’s an incredible swimmer and when we’re at the beach her eyes never leave my kids. She’s my daughter’s Make-A-Wish, after she finished leukemia treatment she got to make a wish and of all the things in the world she could have asked for, she asked for a Newfoundland, and then named her Numa after my grandfather’s late Saint Bernard.
Zoro is a 9lb black cat with a stubby tail that was found eating out of the trash in Trenton, NJ. For my son’s 13th birthday all he wanted was a cat so he picked Zoro out of a mess of wriggling kittens at an adoption event and now they’re inseparable. Zoro loves treats, napping on my bookshelves, napping in the sun, he loves napping on Numa and scaring us because he blends in so we think we lost him until two yellow eyes appear in the fur on Numa’s side. But what he loves most is my son. He follows him around the house all day. He’s the best little friend for a kid who really struggled with anxiety and depression while his sister was sick. Zoro has lifted my son out of that dark place when none of the rest of us could 🖤
It sounds to me that you and your family went through a lot. I'm so glad to hear that your kids found comfort being close to such wonderful animals. Sending 🩷.
Last December my 8-year-old Jack Russell, Zelda, was diagnosed with stage IV lymphoma. Zelda and I spent the first half of 2024 going to chemo treatments every week. Even with the treatments, the prognosis wasn't good, but in April Zelda finished chemo and was officially in remission. In May, I found out that the nearby Jack Russell rescue had puppies. After talking it through with the veterinary oncologist, Zelda and I headed out to meet the puppies and found the sweetest little soul who we brought home with us and named Dodger, a nod to our Brooklyn roots. Dodger came to us after spending six months in a field in Georgia with his littermates and not much interaction with people. He didn't know how to negotiate stairs. He had never had a leash on. The first few weeks he would stop and stare every time we saw someone on our walks (walks were REALLY slow). Now, two months in, he's a happy, bouncy, cheerful little brother who is velcroed to Zelda's side as we walk around the neighborhood. I sit here writing with one sweet white dog curled up on either side of me. I don't know how long I'll get to have them both together, but what an unexpected gift to have them now.
I lost my sweet lab mix, Joey, in February. It took a long time to even imagine getting another dog, but the dog-shaped hole in my life was huge -- even my cardiologist "prescribed" a new dog for my increasing anxiety. So we went to an adoption event and found Toby, who his very much his own self, but also just goddamn silly and derpy and wonderful, and we're glad he's here.
Salami is a mackerel tabby of indeterminate age. She lived on the streets in our neighborhood when we first bought our house. First she started sitting on top of my car, then she let me pet her, then she took some leftover chicken from me, then she came with us to the vet. No microchip, already fixed. So since then, she's been our cat.
Shadowlita, the runt of a litter of black morkies, was starving, the vet said—one sneeze away from death, living in Toronto public housing with a teenager who’d found her and was hiding her from her abusive mom, but didn’t have the money to feed her.
Now, she sits on a pink satin pillow in my home office while I write, munches on designer dental bones, barks with gusto at the mailman, enjoys smelling marijuana, and loves to cuddle and watch Big Bang Theory.
Mel, my 7 ? year-old pit mix (75% American Staffordshire, according to the DNA test) followed us home one day 6 years ago. We already had three senior rescue dogs at home, and BIG ones, too, so taking Mel in was probably objectively nuts. I named him “Mel” because he seemed so mellow. Turns out he wasn’t mellow, he was just very, very sick with a heavy load of heartworms that took two treatments a year apart to eradicate. He was with us through the heartbreaking loss of our three senior dogs, and now he’s an only dog. I count the day he followed us home as one of the luckiest in my life. ❤️
I have a big orange tabby cat named Poe. The shelter picked the name, after Oscar Issac's character in Star Wars, though since moving him to Baltimore last year everyone assumes it's after Edgar Allan. On the 20th of this month we'll have had him for four years, since he was fourish months old. He loves being an only child and monopolizing as much attention as possible, especially booty pats and trying to eat houseplants and riding around on my husband's shoulder and sleeping in the crook of my knee at night. All blankets are his blankets and if he's in my lap while I'm writing, he will gently but firmly bite my arm if I'm typing too vigorously. He's my best friend. <3
I always wanted a black cat named Poe. My husband and my living situation is a bit uncertain right now, so we're holding off on pets, but someday hopefully.
I went from assuming I would never have the bandwidth/mental responsibility to adopting an 85 pound Great Pyrenees in about 2 seconds flat earlier this summer, and it has been surprisingly great. He came from a kill shelter in Texas and we know nothing about his life (except that he's 5 years old and was not yet neutered.) He is, despite his previous unknowns, extremely friendly and wants to say hi to every dog and every child and every old lady and he smiles very big when someone tells him how beautiful he is. All he wants in life is walks and compliments and snuggles.
My Old Man Dog, a rescued former working Labrador, is around 14 years old. He's absolutely the best dog I've ever known, and, after we worked the snags out of our partnership, it has since been my honor and privilege to be on the other end of the leash.
Junebug is a 4 yr old chihuahua mix who was returned to the shelter twice before we adopted her a year ago. We only had two criteria when we were searching for a dog: 1) Friendly. The kind of 'cool dog' who will happily meet strangers and can be left with friends for the weekend 2) Not too smelly.
What we got is a dog who has actual worry lines between her tiny eyebrows. She is scared of all people and all dogs, as well as leaves, bumblebees, bags, sports equipment of any kind, and the sound of cars starting. We bathe her in the kitchen sink once a week and she still smells like old fritos all the time.
She is also loyal and cuddly and hilarious and perfect. The grumpiest looking strangers smile when they see her because she's so cute (even though she runs if they try to pet her).
We have the best, soulful, wise rescue dog we adopted 1.5 years ago when she was only 8 weeks old. Her pregnant mother was abandoned and rescued from the reservation. (We live near the Four Corners area where many dogs roam freely and do not belong to anyone, nor are they spayed or neutered, so our local Humane Society regularly brings up "res dogs" for adoption). Here's the backstory on why we got Daisy: ever since 2007, we had purebred Portuguese Water Dogs (before the Obamas made the breed popular in 2008!) because our daughter was allergic so we needed a non-shedding dog. Our first Portie was wonderful but died too young at 7 due to a horrible rare fast-moving autoimmune disorder that basically made his gut attack itself. We adopted a second PWD, then in 2020 during the pandemic, a third PWD as a puppy to keep the aging one younger. Then the second one also died too young of a fast-moving lymphoma that also blinded him. I thought, "I am NEVER getting this purebred bread again -- it must be inbreeding." Our third Portuguese Water Dog was so lonely and depressed from the death of the older one, I vowed to adopt the first rescue available. Hence, we made a home for the res rescue's new puppy (and thankfully, her litter mates found homes too). She is a large Shepherd mix. So now we have odd-couple dogs that is so interesting in terms of their innate differences. Our purebred pup, now four, is clingy and prefers to be inside, whereas the offspring of the reservation dog is a true outdoor dog; Daisy wants to spend all day outside scanning the landscape watchfully. She's also a hunter, going after voles and chipmunks on our property, and she defends our chickens from a coyote who wanders close to hunt the chickens. Our two dogs are buddies and play, but they could not be more different. And I am completely converted to only wanting to rescue and adopt mutts.
Benchley is a nine year old Bernese Mountain dog, although in our family lore, he can't count past six, so he is the six plus three. He doesn't like any other dogs or people except for us (and the people but NOT the dogs at the place where he gets boarded). He has a new pad in his crate that he likes to lie on but he doesn't want to put himself into the crate so he will coyly dig in the carpet until I say "crate!" and then he will lie there with the door open as if he was locked in.
My Old Man Cat is an almost 17 year old Korat (think: strong gray cat). He showed up in my life as a tiny kitten, during a time when I needed someone to love. I tucked him into my shirt to warm him up before I fed him, and it was love at first purr. It's been love ever since. He has come on many adventures with me; his favorite places involve a sunny window near the sea.
First, there’s Kate, a cat we adopted because we needed a mouser when my daughter was a baby, so they’re the same age. She’s black and white and eats two breakfasts like a hobbit. She is in fact a gold medalist mouser. Then Frances, a shelter speciality of black lab and sheltie or something. She’s the sweetest, and while smart, she makes poor choices that result in vet bills. Finally! A year ago, we rescued a black rabbit named Max. He follows my husband all over the house (he was supposed to be my emotional support bunny!) and sits on his feet when he works. All three match! We have team colors!
I already love all of these stories so much!!
Numa is a 2 year old, 139lb Newfoundland. She’s a giant love, she looks like a bear and acts like the world’s neediest area rug. She wants to be with her people all day, every day, no matter where we’re going or what we’re doing. She loves the local hardware store because they have a secret drawer full of dog treats and she loves going to Maine with us every summer. She’s an incredible swimmer and when we’re at the beach her eyes never leave my kids. She’s my daughter’s Make-A-Wish, after she finished leukemia treatment she got to make a wish and of all the things in the world she could have asked for, she asked for a Newfoundland, and then named her Numa after my grandfather’s late Saint Bernard.
Zoro is a 9lb black cat with a stubby tail that was found eating out of the trash in Trenton, NJ. For my son’s 13th birthday all he wanted was a cat so he picked Zoro out of a mess of wriggling kittens at an adoption event and now they’re inseparable. Zoro loves treats, napping on my bookshelves, napping in the sun, he loves napping on Numa and scaring us because he blends in so we think we lost him until two yellow eyes appear in the fur on Numa’s side. But what he loves most is my son. He follows him around the house all day. He’s the best little friend for a kid who really struggled with anxiety and depression while his sister was sick. Zoro has lifted my son out of that dark place when none of the rest of us could 🖤
It sounds to me that you and your family went through a lot. I'm so glad to hear that your kids found comfort being close to such wonderful animals. Sending 🩷.
If you’re Jami, I’m the reincarnation of your dear old granny about to kick your ass. Reported. Loser.
Wish there were a photo option in comments so I could see this!
Last December my 8-year-old Jack Russell, Zelda, was diagnosed with stage IV lymphoma. Zelda and I spent the first half of 2024 going to chemo treatments every week. Even with the treatments, the prognosis wasn't good, but in April Zelda finished chemo and was officially in remission. In May, I found out that the nearby Jack Russell rescue had puppies. After talking it through with the veterinary oncologist, Zelda and I headed out to meet the puppies and found the sweetest little soul who we brought home with us and named Dodger, a nod to our Brooklyn roots. Dodger came to us after spending six months in a field in Georgia with his littermates and not much interaction with people. He didn't know how to negotiate stairs. He had never had a leash on. The first few weeks he would stop and stare every time we saw someone on our walks (walks were REALLY slow). Now, two months in, he's a happy, bouncy, cheerful little brother who is velcroed to Zelda's side as we walk around the neighborhood. I sit here writing with one sweet white dog curled up on either side of me. I don't know how long I'll get to have them both together, but what an unexpected gift to have them now.
I lost my sweet lab mix, Joey, in February. It took a long time to even imagine getting another dog, but the dog-shaped hole in my life was huge -- even my cardiologist "prescribed" a new dog for my increasing anxiety. So we went to an adoption event and found Toby, who his very much his own self, but also just goddamn silly and derpy and wonderful, and we're glad he's here.
Dog loss (pet loss) is a hard road I’ve gone down five times and counting. They break our hearts, but damn, they’re worth it.
I, too, have lost my share of pets over the years. I'm with you in that it's heartbreaking, but ultimately worth it.
Salami is a mackerel tabby of indeterminate age. She lived on the streets in our neighborhood when we first bought our house. First she started sitting on top of my car, then she let me pet her, then she took some leftover chicken from me, then she came with us to the vet. No microchip, already fixed. So since then, she's been our cat.
SALAMI!
Named by our kid (of course) from the meme at that time that a cat can have a little salami as a treat.
Shadowlita, the runt of a litter of black morkies, was starving, the vet said—one sneeze away from death, living in Toronto public housing with a teenager who’d found her and was hiding her from her abusive mom, but didn’t have the money to feed her.
Now, she sits on a pink satin pillow in my home office while I write, munches on designer dental bones, barks with gusto at the mailman, enjoys smelling marijuana, and loves to cuddle and watch Big Bang Theory.
Bizzy is a grumpy old baby who just turned 17 years old and really likes turkey and apples. She misses her Aunt Jami.
I miss her too. She is a perfect tiny girl.
Mel, my 7 ? year-old pit mix (75% American Staffordshire, according to the DNA test) followed us home one day 6 years ago. We already had three senior rescue dogs at home, and BIG ones, too, so taking Mel in was probably objectively nuts. I named him “Mel” because he seemed so mellow. Turns out he wasn’t mellow, he was just very, very sick with a heavy load of heartworms that took two treatments a year apart to eradicate. He was with us through the heartbreaking loss of our three senior dogs, and now he’s an only dog. I count the day he followed us home as one of the luckiest in my life. ❤️
I have a big orange tabby cat named Poe. The shelter picked the name, after Oscar Issac's character in Star Wars, though since moving him to Baltimore last year everyone assumes it's after Edgar Allan. On the 20th of this month we'll have had him for four years, since he was fourish months old. He loves being an only child and monopolizing as much attention as possible, especially booty pats and trying to eat houseplants and riding around on my husband's shoulder and sleeping in the crook of my knee at night. All blankets are his blankets and if he's in my lap while I'm writing, he will gently but firmly bite my arm if I'm typing too vigorously. He's my best friend. <3
Thank you for sharing Leo & happy anniversary!
I always wanted a black cat named Poe. My husband and my living situation is a bit uncertain right now, so we're holding off on pets, but someday hopefully.
I hope that for you! <3
I went from assuming I would never have the bandwidth/mental responsibility to adopting an 85 pound Great Pyrenees in about 2 seconds flat earlier this summer, and it has been surprisingly great. He came from a kill shelter in Texas and we know nothing about his life (except that he's 5 years old and was not yet neutered.) He is, despite his previous unknowns, extremely friendly and wants to say hi to every dog and every child and every old lady and he smiles very big when someone tells him how beautiful he is. All he wants in life is walks and compliments and snuggles.
Sarah I went to your instagram to check out this dog and he is gorgeous!!
He says thank you and that he loves Leo’s ears (this is factual, my dude is a sucker for small floofy eared buddies)
My Old Man Dog, a rescued former working Labrador, is around 14 years old. He's absolutely the best dog I've ever known, and, after we worked the snags out of our partnership, it has since been my honor and privilege to be on the other end of the leash.
Labs are amazing dogs. ❤️
Junebug is a 4 yr old chihuahua mix who was returned to the shelter twice before we adopted her a year ago. We only had two criteria when we were searching for a dog: 1) Friendly. The kind of 'cool dog' who will happily meet strangers and can be left with friends for the weekend 2) Not too smelly.
What we got is a dog who has actual worry lines between her tiny eyebrows. She is scared of all people and all dogs, as well as leaves, bumblebees, bags, sports equipment of any kind, and the sound of cars starting. We bathe her in the kitchen sink once a week and she still smells like old fritos all the time.
She is also loyal and cuddly and hilarious and perfect. The grumpiest looking strangers smile when they see her because she's so cute (even though she runs if they try to pet her).
We have the best, soulful, wise rescue dog we adopted 1.5 years ago when she was only 8 weeks old. Her pregnant mother was abandoned and rescued from the reservation. (We live near the Four Corners area where many dogs roam freely and do not belong to anyone, nor are they spayed or neutered, so our local Humane Society regularly brings up "res dogs" for adoption). Here's the backstory on why we got Daisy: ever since 2007, we had purebred Portuguese Water Dogs (before the Obamas made the breed popular in 2008!) because our daughter was allergic so we needed a non-shedding dog. Our first Portie was wonderful but died too young at 7 due to a horrible rare fast-moving autoimmune disorder that basically made his gut attack itself. We adopted a second PWD, then in 2020 during the pandemic, a third PWD as a puppy to keep the aging one younger. Then the second one also died too young of a fast-moving lymphoma that also blinded him. I thought, "I am NEVER getting this purebred bread again -- it must be inbreeding." Our third Portuguese Water Dog was so lonely and depressed from the death of the older one, I vowed to adopt the first rescue available. Hence, we made a home for the res rescue's new puppy (and thankfully, her litter mates found homes too). She is a large Shepherd mix. So now we have odd-couple dogs that is so interesting in terms of their innate differences. Our purebred pup, now four, is clingy and prefers to be inside, whereas the offspring of the reservation dog is a true outdoor dog; Daisy wants to spend all day outside scanning the landscape watchfully. She's also a hunter, going after voles and chipmunks on our property, and she defends our chickens from a coyote who wanders close to hunt the chickens. Our two dogs are buddies and play, but they could not be more different. And I am completely converted to only wanting to rescue and adopt mutts.
Benchley is a nine year old Bernese Mountain dog, although in our family lore, he can't count past six, so he is the six plus three. He doesn't like any other dogs or people except for us (and the people but NOT the dogs at the place where he gets boarded). He has a new pad in his crate that he likes to lie on but he doesn't want to put himself into the crate so he will coyly dig in the carpet until I say "crate!" and then he will lie there with the door open as if he was locked in.
Dogs are sometimes such a trip, aren't they? :)
My Old Man Cat is an almost 17 year old Korat (think: strong gray cat). He showed up in my life as a tiny kitten, during a time when I needed someone to love. I tucked him into my shirt to warm him up before I fed him, and it was love at first purr. It's been love ever since. He has come on many adventures with me; his favorite places involve a sunny window near the sea.
First, there’s Kate, a cat we adopted because we needed a mouser when my daughter was a baby, so they’re the same age. She’s black and white and eats two breakfasts like a hobbit. She is in fact a gold medalist mouser. Then Frances, a shelter speciality of black lab and sheltie or something. She’s the sweetest, and while smart, she makes poor choices that result in vet bills. Finally! A year ago, we rescued a black rabbit named Max. He follows my husband all over the house (he was supposed to be my emotional support bunny!) and sits on his feet when he works. All three match! We have team colors!