Every cat here has a name.
And a story.

Pulled from a storm drain on Elm Street last February, Mochi spent three weeks hiding under a blanket before discovering the joy of a warm lap.

Theodore arrived when his owner moved into assisted living. He spent two weeks deciding whether to trust us. He has since decided we are acceptable.

Fig was found feral behind the bakery on Maple Ave. She has never been held, but she will now sleep within two feet of a human — on her terms.

Clementine was surrendered when her owner entered hospice. She has spent her whole life being loved. She is looking for somewhere to continue that arrangement.

Barnaby came to us as part of a hoarding case — twelve cats, one small apartment. He somehow emerged cheerful, social, and ready for anything.

Found under a porch on Oak Street with two siblings. The siblings were adopted in a day. Pumpkin was too busy exploring to notice — she has no regrets.

Harriet was a library cat for four years before the library closed. She still sits on shelves and judges everyone who passes, which we find charming.