Every loss to us is as painful as a personal pet's passing. They truly become part of our lives as we care for them day in and day out. The following are short messages from those who cared about them the most. Until we meet again, kids.

Mr Chips came to HHR in late 2021. He was a beat up street cat rescued by our good friends at AAWL. Chips showed up at one of their feral colonies- clearly not feral and very clearly in need of medical attention. At his first vet visit we learned that Chips had feline leukemia. Just a few short years ago, cats testing positive for leukemia were euthanized- especially those as beat up as Chips. Adoption is often off the table for leukemia cats. Their lives will knowingly be cut very short and the average adopter often unwilling to risk the heartache to love them for such a short time. Thanks to our generous supporters and our ginormous hearts, HHR started a “leukemia wing” and built a little cottage dedicated to these precious souls. Here at HHR, they’re loved unconditionally and provided the same level of vet care as any other kitty. Chips was no different. He moved into the HHR Leukemia Lifers Cottage and spent the next two years sleeping in the sun, snuggling with friends, and snatching any piece of food left unattended. He struggled sometimes- crappy heart, crappy teeth, and an even more crappy GI tract. We spent lots of days at the hospital and lots of days were spent with his doctor attending to Chips here on the farm. Most days were good and he always got extra churus for cooperating for the vet. We lost Chips this evening somewhat unexpectedly. We knew his days were short but a rushed trip to the ER wasn’t in our plans. Please keep Chips and his feline and human families in your thoughts. Rest in peace little buddy.

Captain came to HHR about five months ago. Before that, he was living outside in horrid condition- maggots infesting his body. Our friends at AAWL saved his life and gave him a chance that no one else would. The plan was for Captain to come to HHR, get some much needed dental work, and eventually be placed for adoption. At his first vet visit here at HHR, we learned that Captain had cancer. It was an aggressive cancer, likely lymphoma, and his time was expected to be only a month or two. Captain moved into our HHR Lifer House so he could spend his final months roaming around and making friends- warm, safe, happy. Arguably this was the best home he’d ever had. We lost Captain this morning- not unexpectedly but nonetheless just as heart wrenching. Captain - thank you for letting us make the most of your final months. You were loved.

Gunnie came to HHR in January 2016 - a fortunate accident. A volunteer was picking up another chow at an overcrowded rural shelter in NC and noticed Gunnie too. If I had said no, Gunnie’s life would've ended that week. Gunnie was a special girl. She had cerebellar hypoplasia, a condition that caused her to wobble and spin and never truly grasp housebreaking. Gunzilla (as we often called her) plowed her way through life- forcing me to laugh even when clearly frustrated. She was the original hot mess express and we loved her unconditionally. Gunnie shared her home with many other Lifer dogs here on the farm- mostly the old dogs here for hospice care but the occasional jerk dog too. Even my old dogs accepted her into their very small circle. She was a friend to all and literally smiled every day of her life. Today Gunnie left this world unexpectedly. My heart is shattered again. She was the last of our HHR Lifer Dogs. Their little cottage is empty. So many souls have called that place home. Hug your pets. Get them the veterinary care they deserve. Cherish them. The days seem long sometimes but the years are far too short.Goodbye Gunnie girl. You were so loved.

Some days in rescue, life is pretty unfair. We can’t possibly save them all, but we still keep trying day in and day out. Hundreds of animals pass though here each year and each one holds a special place. Phil came to HHR earlier this year having been rescued from the streets by a fellow rescuer. He was a beat up old tom cat- missing and rotted teeth, FIV+, flea infested, skinny as a rail- and with more personality than he knew what to do with. It was all packed in to his tiny 8 lb frame. Grandpa Phil (as he was affectionately known) called Mew Haven Cat Cafe his home. Several folks applied for Phil, but he wasn’t interested. He was the greeter, the food taster, and quite often the cafe bully. Phil was always the center of the action. His big head and tiny body were easily recognizable and you couldn’t help but like him. He didn’t give you any other options. Phillip came back to HHR last week for a vet visit. He had a mild URI and a mildly upset tummy. He started his meds was feeling better in record time. He couldn’t wait to fly the coop and get back to managing the cat cafe. We lost Phillip unexpectedly this morning. His foster mom found him unresponsive and rushed to the hospital, but it was too late and Phil was gone. Doc’s best guess is that Phil had a sudden cardiac episode. Cats are really good at hiding issues and sometimes there is no amount of money or testing that can predict these heartbreaking losses. To all who loved and cared for Phil, thank you for treating our kitties with such love and kindness. Please hug your fur babies extra tight today. Life is short and time is precious. Rest in peace Phil. We know you’ll bring lots of personality to the rainbow bridge.

Nearly two years ago my ACO friend called and asked if we ”could take a mean old cat” into HHR. I love the spicy cats so there wasn’t even a second of hesitation. Tammy Faye was hyperthyroid and in kidney failure. It wasn’t the cause of her bad attitude but it sure didn’t help. She was a mean old cat - swatting, slashing, growling- Tammy lived life on her own terms. Her only saving grace is that she was good with other cats. Tammy escaped once by climbing on top of a cage bank and tearing a hole in a screen more than 5 feet off the ground. Thanks to a kind neighbor, we found her nearly a mile away when she peeked in their window looking for food. When I pulled up in my truck to retrieve her, she was less than thrilled to see me. Ungrateful as always. We lost Tammy Faye today. Her endearing resting bitch face will forever be remembered here at HHR. She was one of a kind.

Every now and then a cat will come through HHR and we know from day one that he/she will be here to stay. Clara was one of those cats.She came to HHR by way of our friends at animal control. Clara was a sassy, demanding, grumpy cat all packed into her 7 lb frame. She was a medical nightmare- bad heart, bad teeth, one eye, old lady- rarely a well behaved patient. And we loved her for exactly who she was.

Clara earned her veterinary frequent flyer miles over the two years she lived here at HHR. She really never complained- except for the occasional mumbling under her breath at med time. Clara swatted and growled at her housemates.

She refused to make friends until old man Adam didn’t leave her any choice, insisting on snuggling beside her at every opportunity.After a steady decline, we decided to start hospice care on Clara a few weeks ago. She was tired and we always respect the signs our lifers give to us when they’re tired of fighting.

Clara left us on her own terms. Goodbye sweet, sassy Clara. We loved you.

A few years ago, HHR was asked to take Simone from a municipal pound because she was “mean.” We love spicy kitties here at HHR so there was no hesitation. What they didn’t tell us was that Simone had a history of abdominal discomfort and bloody stools. We’re guessing THAT was the reason for “being mean.” Plus being a torti point Siamese sure didn’t help the bad attitude. Simone was never all that cooperative for diagnostics, medications, or really anything at all. She lived life on her own terms and we did the best we could to manage her condition and give her the quality of life she deserved. Last night Simone stuffed away two plates of food- grumbling and swatting her housemates away from her plate. Four hours later, she was laying in her bed and she was gone- leaving here on her own terms. Rest in peace bratty old lady. We sure will miss your grumbles and swats.

Iris came to HHR in 2020- a 12 week old baby who had landed at animal control all alone. At her first vet visit, we found out Iris had feline leukemia. I bargained with the universe that maybe the test was wrong and hoped she’d test negative by the time she was six months old. Sadly, the test wasn’t wrong. Given the circumstances, I promised to give Iris the best life ever and we built a little cottage specifically for FeLV kitties to live out their lives. My sweet little girl was friend to all. Climbing on shoulders, purring and chirping away; she charmed everyone she met with her crossed blue eyes. Aside from some minor medical issues and a nearly full mouth extraction, Iris lived a life as normal as any other cat. My sweet Iris suffered a major neurological episode about 5 weeks ago and her team of doctors leaned toward a diagnosis of FIP. Overall, her blood counts were steady and we elected to try the treatment. Aside from hating the injections, Iris tolerated her treatment well and her FIP markers were back in range pretty quickly. Unfortunately, the leukemia had taken over, depleting her body of all resources needed to fight. Iris left us today in the most peaceful way possible. She was loved beyond words with an earth-side fan club almost as big as the one surely waiting for her on the other side. Iris was a treasure and I was lucky to be her mom.

Milly came to us along with twelve other cats in a big pull we did from animal control last year. She was full of parasites, bedraggled, and basically looked like she had been pulled backwards through whatever situation she came from in coming into animal control. Well, as we spent more time with her, we first thought she had CH, a condition that isn’t unknown to us here at HHR. But.. something else was wrong. Her balance was off, sure, but something else was afoot. Our doctor also spent quite a bit of time scratching his head over her off-kilter symptoms and finally suggested a possible brain tumor. Because of her age and general quality of life, we elected not to pursue further diagnostics. Finally, she was well enough to move from her second foster to a family setting, and there she spent many happy months as a cat should: soft beds, good food, cat siblings who didn’t mind another wonky cat about the house. Milly left us last week. Her body simply had had enough and no amount of supportive care could make up the difference any longer. Cancer is so cruel, as many of us here know. As weird as it probably sounds to outsiders… we are relieved she is finally at peace, and saddened by her leaving. Rescue is such a complicated mix of emotions, all the time. Whether she was trying to dive off of stairs or hurtling around corners, Milly was a burst of light in dark days. We loved that girl. Until we meet again