Humane Society of the Pikes Peak Region

Home
United States
Colorado Springs, CO
Humane Society of the Pikes Peak Region

HSPPR offers compassionate care, supports safe communities, & provides socially conscious sheltering.

Colorado Springs campus: 610 Abbot Lane, 719-473-1741
Pueblo campus: 4600 Eagleridge Pl, 719-544-3005
Visit www.hsppr.org for shelter hours. Facebook Guidelines for Humane Society of the Pikes Peak Region

This is a page for supporters of Humane Society of the Pikes Peak Region. We encourage open discussion and invite you to share your opinion. By participating on this page, you agree to our com

menting policy, outlined below. We reserve the right to delete posts on our page containing any of the following elements:

• Profanity
• misinformation
• spam
• off-topic / irrelevant
• personal attacks
• promoting violence
• promoting illegal or questionable activities
• rallying on behalf of people or organizations which support animal abuse

If you repeatedly violate this policy, you will be removed from our page. If you become a bother to our supporters, as this is a supporter page first and foremost, you will be removed. Again, we encourage open discussion, which includes disagreement, but we will not tolerate harassment or taunting of our supporters. We appreciate your cooperation and support, and look forward to connecting with each of you, our loyal supporters!

10/31/2025

Dear Human Resources,

We, the three orange cats in a trench coat who run our social media, write to you weary and sticky with pumpkin residue, to report a series of unfortunate events that began precisely eleven days ago: the day Luna arrived.

We remember it vividly. We were enjoying our breakfast of lightly stolen kibble atop the warm office printer when the door opened, and in she walked: a sleek black silhouette framed by the October sun, her fur shimmering like the surface of a cursed pond.

Within the hour, the staff had proclaimed her Manager of Halloween. There was no interview. No onboarding paperwork. No background check. Meanwhile, the three orange cats were reminded yet again that we “cannot be trusted with managerial responsibilities due to prior incidents involving tuna, the photocopier, and the company stapler.”

Still, we resolved to be civil. We presented her with a tiny welcome banner (hand-drawn, mostly paw prints) and an office pumpkin decorated with googly eyes. She blinked once and declared, “It’s gauche.”

That was Day One.

By Day Two, the cobwebs we had painstakingly placed for maximum spookiness were dismantled and meticulously rearranged into patterns that supposedly “tell a story of existential dread.” When we suggested adding a plastic spider for authenticity, she hissed softly: “The absence of the spider is the point.” We have not understood joy since.

On Day Five, she replaced all coffee with what she called “Elixir of Eternal Autumn.” We soon discovered it was pumpkin-flavored black coffee. Not a latte. Not something polite with cream and foam. Just pumpkin. Black. Coffee. We now understand why some humans scream into the void before sunrise.

By Day Eight, she had instituted a costume policy that shattered all tradition. Every year, the three orange cats don our trench coat and deerstalker hat and become Detective Whiskerstein, solving pretend mysteries such as “Who Ate the Office Treats?” (It was us. It’s always us.)

This year, Luna announced that “Detective-themed costumes are incompatible with the Halloween aesthetic.” We were devastated. She has allowed only three acceptable costume categories:
1. Gothic Noble (with cape)
2. Haunted Forest Spirit (with leaves)
3. Herself

Today, Day Eleven, she declared from atop the office shelf, her self-appointed throne, that she was no longer Manager of Halloween. She is now, and we quote, “The Queen of Halloween, Ruler of Shadows, and Keeper of the Candy Bowl.”

Since HR has not intervened and the candy corn crown remains firmly on her head, we are appealing directly to the public: adopt Luna.

She is three years old, stunning, confident, and full of spooky charm. She will thrive in a calm, dog-free home where she can reign supreme and micromanage to her heart’s delight. She’s “a little shy at first” (though we have personally seen her startle a full-grown human into dropping a bag of treats), but she warms up quickly, especially when there’s attention to be had.

If you adopt her, you won’t just be rescuing a cat. You’ll be rescuing three orange cats in a trench coat from another round of “mandatory séance training.”

Please come get her. Let her be your Halloween Queen. And let us finally put on our silly hat, drink normal coffee, and solve fake crimes in peace.

With the utmost professionalism (and mild desperation),
The Three Orange Cats in a Trench Coat

10/30/2025

Oh! Oh hi there! Hi!! My name's Bobby, well, actually, it's Bob, but everyone calls me Bobby because it sounds more fun, don't you think? Are you here to play with me? I love to play! We could toss the ball, or maybe a frisbee, or maybe... Oh!...we could run up and down the yard and see who's faster! I bet you'd win, but only just barely. I'm very fast. And I can do this thing where I catch the ball mid-air! Look, see?... Oh, wait, you don't have a ball. That's okay! We can pretend! I'm really good at pretending.

Oh… oh, you're just here to look? That's okay! Really! You don't have to feel bad. Lots of people come here just to look. They walk by, smile, point, talk to the staff, and look at all of us. They look at me, too, sometimes for a long time, and sometimes they even say things like "what a good boy!" or "he's so cute!" I like that part. I always wag my tail extra hard, just in case it helps.

Some people look at the other dogs, too. Actually… they mostly look at the other dogs. Sometimes, those dogs even get to go in the special visit room. When dogs go in there, it usually means something good. It means maybe they get to go home. I've been in there twice! Once with a lady who smelled like sunshine and peanut butter, and once with a man who laughed like thunder. Both times, I thought, "This is it! This is my person!"

But then they took me back to my kennel. And I didn't see them again... That's okay, though. Really, it is! The staff here are super nice! They play with me when they can, and they give me treats and tell me I'm smart. I am smart, you know. I can sit, and I don't even chomp fingers when I take a treat anymore. The volunteers laugh and tell me I'm a "good boy" and that I'll find my person soon. They say I just need a family.

Family… that's a funny word. I don't really know what that means, not really. I think I might've had something like that before, a long time ago, but it's kind of fuzzy. The way the staff talks about it, though, it sounds nice. It sounds like soft blankets, warm hands, and belly rubs before bedtime. It sounds like someone saying "good morning" and "good boy" every single day. I think I'd like that a lot.

I'd like to go into that special room again, just once more, and have someone look at me and say "Yes." I'd like to hop into their car and ride home with them, with the window down and my ears flapping in the wind. I'd like to see where they live, to sniff every corner, to have a toy basket that's mine. I'd like to play until I get so tired that I fall asleep right beside them, maybe with my head on their knee. I think I'd dream better there.

Hey… I know you're just looking. And that's okay. Really. But maybe, just maybe, you know someone who's looking for a friend. Someone who wants to play fetch, or take walks, or share popcorn on movie nights. Someone who wants to wake up to a wagging tail every morning and come home to one every evening. Someone who wants to be loved the way only a dog can love, with their whole heart.

If you know them, could you tell them I'm here? I promise I'll be the best boy. I'll wait by the door when they're gone, and I'll jump and dance when they come back. I'll keep all their secrets and listen to every word they say, even the ones they whisper when they're sad. I'll make them laugh when it's raining and cuddle close when it's cold. I'll love them more than anything, because that's what dogs like me do best.

It's okay if you forget, but if you remember, it would mean everything to me. I've been waiting for three and a half weeks now. I wag every morning, just in case today's the day.

Maybe tomorrow will be the day. Maybe they'll walk in, and my tail will wag so hard it shakes my whole body, and they'll smile and say, "That's him. That's our Bobby." And then I'll finally get to go home, not just for the day, not just for a visit, but home, for good.

https://www.hsppr.org/pet/a1756981/

10/29/2025

It's hard being a Duke.

Not a King Duke with a glittering crown and a velvet robe. Not a Prince Duke, adored by all and fussed over by the royal court. Not even a Sir Duke of the Round Table, shining armor gleaming, galloping into glorious battle. No, Duke is just Duke. Plain Duke. Ordinary Duke. A Duke with no castle, no riches, and no royal decree to his name.

If Duke were a King, things would be very different indeed. Kings, you see, never lose their way. Should a King wander off by accident (which, of course, they never do), an entire kingdom would stir to action. Trumpets would sound! Lanterns would flicker in every window! Brave knights would ride out under the stars, calling, "Fear not, Your Majesty, we shall find you!"

But when Duke got lost, no trumpets played. No knights rode forth. He wandered through strange streets, paws dusty, nose pressed to the wind, searching for the scent of home, but the world can be terribly large when you're small and alone.

And so, one day, Duke arrived at the shelter gates. Not in a carriage drawn by white horses, but on weary paws. His coat was tousled, his heart uncertain. And for five long days he waited, tail tucked, eyes bright with hope, for someone to come and say, "There you are, Duke! We've been looking for you!"

But no one came.

If Duke were a Prince, no one would think twice about his royal preferences. Princes are allowed to be particular. If a Prince guards his treasures, his dinner, his toys, his favorite human, people call it discernment. "Ah, yes," they'd say, "a Prince must protect what's his."

But Duke's treasures are humble things: a squeaky ball, a chew toy, a bowl of dinner, a kind hand scratching behind his ears. He guards them because he knows what it's like to lose them. And when you've known the ache of empty bowls and quiet nights, you hold the good things a little tighter. He's learning, of course, learning that in kind hands, there will always be enough. But habits of the heart are hard to unlearn.

If Duke were a Knight, well, the story would be very grand indeed! Knights are celebrated for their courage, especially when defending their kingdoms from fearsome beasts. If a Knight chased away cats, squirrels, and other mysterious invaders, bards would write songs about his valor! He would stand tall, tail high, and the people would cry, "Huzzah! Sir Duke, Defender of the Realm!"

But no one writes songs for shelter dogs who chase cats. No medals for bravery hang above Duke's kennel door. Only a small card that says he needs a feline-free home, and the quiet hope that someone will see beyond the paper to the heart that beats behind it.

And so it is: Duke is not a King. Nor a Prince. Nor a Knight. He is simply Duke.

He has no lands to rule, no grand hall to fill with laughter. His kingdom, for now, is a soft blanket and a metal bowl. Yet even without a throne, he carries himself with a quiet sort of dignity, the kind that can't be taught or bestowed. It's the dignity of someone who's been through the dark woods and still believes there's light ahead.

And here is the most wonderful truth of all: sometimes, the ones without crowns are the most deserving of them. Sometimes the truest nobility isn't found in castles or titles, but in kindness, in patience, in a tail that wags even when the world has been unkind.

Perhaps, somewhere out there, there's someone who doesn't need a King or a Prince or a Knight. Someone who simply wants a Duke, their Duke, to share their little corner of the world.

10/29/2025

It’s time for your weekly dose of Hand-Picked Cats!

These kitties are truly something special, so we’ve gone full fairy godmother mode and waived their adoption fees to help them find their new homes! Meet the fabulous felines of the week and help us shout their names from the rooftops (or, more realistically, your group chats, DMs, and anywhere cat people gather). Swing by our Colorado Springs shelter to meet them in person, or fall in love from afar at hsppr.org/pets.

Let’s get these cuties home, they’ve got naps to take, snacks to demand, and lives to change.
(*$20 license fee may still apply.)

10/28/2025

Bonjour. My name is Winter, and I am suffering from a most dreadful, soul-sucking affliction. A condition so dire, so catastrophic, that I fear the world may never truly comprehend my pain. It is called... ennui.

You may think, "Oh, Winter, that sounds French and sophisticated! Surely it cannot be that bad!" Well, you would be wrong. It is not glamorous. It is not chic. It is an emotional wasteland, a desolate tundra of the spirit. It is waking up each morning and realizing that, alas, one must once again endure the monotony of existence.

Ennui is when your favorite volunteer comes to visit, fills your days with joy, and then has the audacity to leave. Suddenly you are alone, staring at the walls of your kennel like a widow at the sea, waiting for a ship that will never return.

Ennui is when there is no music playing in the cat colony rooms, and you must clean your whiskers and paws in silence. Do you hear that? Nothing. No Vilvaldi. No Taylor Swift. Only the faint hum of the air conditioner and the whispers of your own despair.

Ennui is when you once dined upon a meal so divine it could bring you to tears, perhaps rotisserie chicken or tuna in oil, and now you must nibble at bland kibble in your cubicle, surrounded by the stench of disinfectant and your own relentless existence.

And so, I languish.

The staff here say I am being dramatic. They say, "Winter, you're fine. You have toys! You have blankets! You have food!" To which I say: nonsense. My toys are dull, my blankets lack the scent of a human who adores me, and my soul is growing weaker by the day.

They even had the nerve, the audacity, to put a little note on my kennel that says I am "overstimulated." Overstimulated! As if being passionate and discerning were some kind of flaw! Excuse me for having boundaries. I am a complex woman of depth and feeling. I do not wish for your clumsy hands upon me at all times; there are feather wands for that, darling. Feather. Wands.

Yes, perhaps I've been known to nip or scratch when touched too much. But honestly, who among us hasn't wanted to bite someone for being annoying? At least I'm honest about it.

I am five years old, beautiful (obviously), a woman in her prime, with glossy fur and eyes that could melt the iciest of hearts. And yet here I sit, trapped in my little enclosure like Rapunzel, if Rapunzel had impeccable grooming habits and a disdain for small talk.

Each day that passes, my ennui grows heavier. I stare listlessly into the void, wondering if I shall ever again feel the rush of excitement that comes from knocking something off a counter. Will I ever know the thrill of running across a hallway at 3 a.m. for no reason? The joy of ignoring someone who begs for my attention?

I fear my ennui may become terminal. I may lose the desire to climb! To play! To judge! (Though, of course, I will never lose the desire to eat. Let's not be ridiculous.)

There is but one cure for my tragic condition: adoption. I require a home where I am properly admired, worshipped, even, for the rare treasure I am. A place where I can flourish, bask in adoration, and receive love and treats in equal measure.

Please, I beg of you, rescue me from this dismal fate. Save me from my terminal ennui before I perish from sheer existential exhaustion. You are my only hope.

10/27/2025

‘Tis spooky season, as the girls would say,
A time for goblins to come out and play.
Well...More like grown men dressed as Batman,
Still a terrifying sight for a pet with no plan.

You’ve been pumpkin and apple-obsessed this fall,
But there’s something you haven’t thought of at all.
While you hang cobwebs and plan your display,
Your pet’s in the corner, wishing it’d all go away.

When the doorbell rings this Friday night,
Your pet will be met with dreadful sights,
Princes and monsters, a ghost or two,
Screaming for candy (as humans do).

So keep your pet safe, secure, and serene,
Away from the chaos of Halloween.
For if they should look into Elsa’s blue eyes,
They might catch a chill and run for their lives.

Speaking of lives, though cats may have nine,
On sugar and chocolate, they never should dine.
While you’ve got your spooky plans all set,
One piece of candy could mean a trip to the vet.

Now, dressing up can be quite the thrill,
But for your furry friend, it could be a buzzkill.
If they hate their costume, don’t make them wear it,
Don’t be like your mom, who made you dress like a parrot.

Decorations may look deliciously fright’ning,
But pets find them tempting, maybe too enticing.
Keep wires and cobwebs far from their teeth,
And opt for flameless candles in pumpkins beneath.

We wish you the spookiest, silliest week,
Filled with fun and frights that make you squeak.
But please remember to care for your pets,
No real scares, and no trips to the vet!

Read our full blog post on Halloween safety tips here: https://www.hsppr.org/halloween-pet-safety-tips/

10/25/2025

In March of this year, Yara went missing from her home. Her mom was devastated, she searched everywhere, hung posters, refreshed “Lost Pets” Facebook groups like it was a full-time job, but Yara was gone. For seven long months, no one knew where she was, what she was doing, or if she’d ever come home.

So, naturally, we came up with a few very realistic possibilities for how she spent her gap year:
🐾 Yara was in France planning the Louvre heist, but only because someone said, “You could never pull that off,” and she took it personally.
🐾 She went full "Eat, Pray, Love"… except it was more "Eat, Sleep, Knock Stuff Off Counters."
🐾 She started a pyramid scheme for squirrels. We can’t share details for legal reasons.
🐾 She was writing her memoir, Nine Lives, One Mental Breakdown, No Regrets. (Coming soon to Audible, narrated by Michelle Pfeiffer.)
🐾 She got recruited by the CIA but quit after realizing “catnip” wasn’t included in her government benefits package.
🐾 She ran an underground trading ring for missing socks and rogue hair ties. Business was booming.
🐾 She became a life coach for emotionally unavailable tomcats.
🐾 She started a cult that worships laser pointers and calls it The Church of Eternal Red Dot.
🐾 She launched an Etsy shop selling “sustainably sourced, artisanal hairballs.” Shockingly successful.
🐾 She got cast in a Hallmark Christmas movie called Mistletoe & Cat Hair, but was replaced by a younger kitten at the last minute. Brutal industry.

And while we may never truly know which of these is the real story (honestly, probably all of them), we do know how it ends, and this part is 100% true.

After Yara disappeared, her mom eventually had to move. She did everything she could to find her but finally had to face the heartbreaking truth that Yara might be gone forever. Then, on Wednesday, out of nowhere, Yara showed up at her old house, seven months later.

Thankfully, a kind stranger brought her to the shelter. We scanned her microchip, found her mom’s info, and made the call every pet owner dreams of getting. When her mom heard the words, “We have Yara here with us,” she burst into tears. Yara was safe, and she was going home.

We’re so proud to have been part of this happy reunion, and we’d like to take this time to remind everyone: please microchip your pets. Whether they’re robbing the Louvre, starting a cult, or starring in a Hallmark film, a microchip makes sure they always find their way back to you when the adventure is over. You can set up an appointment to get a microchip through our wellness clinics today: https://www.hsppr.org/services/veterinary-services/

Welcome home, Yara! No more adventures for a while! 🐾

10/24/2025

Two Happy Tails for the Price of One

We started this week by sharing a note from our friend, Asia. You might remember her, the quiet, soulful girl with the soft brown eyes. Asia came to us after she had been attacked by another dog in her home multiple times. She arrived scared, shut down, and unsure the world could ever be safe again.

At first, she barely moved. She curled up on her blanket and watched the world go by. But healing has a way of sneaking in quietly. One day, she took a treat from one of the vet techs. Another day, she leaned in, just barely, when a behavior team member sat beside her. Slowly, with patience and gentle care from our medical and behavior teams, Asia began to trust again. A small wag. A soft sigh. A spark of hope returning to her heart.

What Asia didn't know was that, while her story was unfolding online, she was already inspiring someone else.

On Monday, as we shared Asia's story, another dog was finding her happy tail. Dorie, a senior girl with the sweetest kisses, had just met her new owner. She wasn't the kind of dog that turns heads right away; her muzzle was turning gray, and her paws moved a little slower, but when her adopter knelt down beside her, it was clear they belonged together.

We had waived Dorie's adoption fee to help her find a home faster. But when her new owner learned that, she didn't hesitate. She asked if she could cover Asia's adoption fee.

Just two days later, Asia's life changed again. Her new family came through the doors and asked to meet her. She sniffed their hands, tilted her head, and after a long pause, took that brave step forward. That was it. The moment she decided she was ready to love again.

When she walked out those shelter doors, she didn't look back. The timid, wounded dog who once hid in the corner left standing tall, tail wagging, ready to begin a new chapter surrounded by love and safety.

Two dogs, two stories, and one simple act of kindness that connected them both.

Stories like this remind us what's possible when people lead with compassion. The act of adopting a dog who needs a home is already selfless, but to extend that love to another animal you've never met? That's something extraordinary.

It's easy to scroll through the news or social media and feel like the world is getting colder. But inside the walls of our shelter, we see proof every day that kindness still exists. We see it in the quiet tears of someone meeting their new best friend. We see it in the volunteers walking dogs in the rain. We see it when two senior dogs find homes within days of each other, their lives intertwined by a single, generous heart.

The world isn't losing its goodness, it's just waiting for us to notice it.

And here, in our little corner of the world, we're reminded every single day that love is still louder, kindness still matters, and there's always room for one more happy tail, and one more happy heart. 💛

10/23/2025

This one's for all the moms out there.

You know who you are, the women who've given up sleep, sanity, and the concept of "personal space" all for the sake of your kids. The ones reheating coffee for the fifth time, eating cold dinosaur nuggets off a Paw Patrol plate, and answering your grown adult children when they text you, "If I eat the shrimp I cooked five days ago, will I die?"

Becoming a mom is the wildest, most wonderful, most exhausting thing a person can do. You bring life into the world, and then you spend the rest of your life making sure that life doesn't fall off the couch, run into traffic, or get food poisoning. Moms are superheroes, therapists, chefs, chauffeurs, and human jungle gyms all rolled into one. They are constantly taking care of the people they love. And sometimes, while they're shining their light on everyone else, they end up standing in the shadows.

That's exactly what happened to Mom.

Mom came to our Pueblo shelter with a litter of underage puppies, her little chaos crew. Her body had been through a lot, and her heart had too. She was fierce and protective, ready to defend those babies with everything she had. And honestly? We respected that. Because every mom knows that "mama bear" instinct, the one that turns you into a night club bouncer on Friday night, the second someone gets too close to your baby.

Mom gave everything to those puppies. Every bit of warmth, every ounce of energy, every drop of love she had. She raised them until they were strong and wiggly and ready to go out into the world, and one by one, they did. Each puppy left in the arms of an excited family, tiny tails wagging as they drove off to their new lives.

And Mom watched them go. Alone.

For the first time, she didn't have anyone to take care of, and that's when she started to let us take care of her.

Without the weight of motherhood on her shoulders, she blossomed. She learned that hands could mean pets, not threats. That walks could be fun. That people could be kind. She started greeting staff with a wagging tail and those perfect floppy ears bouncing as she ran in the sunshine. She's goofy, she's gentle, she's sweet, and she's finally ready to find her new home.

Mom is two years old, full of love, energy, and loyalty. She's done raising babies. Now, it's her turn to be someone's baby.

Because here's the truth no one says out loud: moms need care too. They need soft voices and gentle hands. They need someone to look at them with the same love and wonder they've been giving everyone else. They need a place where they can rest, where they don't have to be "strong" every second of the day.

Mom has spent her life giving; now she deserves someone who gives that love back. Someone who'll see her not just as the dog who raised her puppies, but as the beautiful soul she is all on her own.

So if you are a mom, have a mom, or love a mom, help us write the next chapter of Mom's story. Share her. Visit her. Adopt her.

Because every mom deserves what she's been giving all along: unconditional love, a safe place to land, and someone who says, "Do not eat that! I am not driving you to the ER at midnight again."

10/22/2025

ADOPTED 10/26

Dear Friend,

We don't know your name. We don't know your story. But we know your heart, because you left a piece of it with us. His name is Tuxedo.

Our officers found him, waiting quietly under the HSPPR sign in his crate, just where you left him. He was curled up on the blanket you laid out, surrounded by his toys like old friends. He looked scared and unsure, but the moment one of our officers reached for the leash and harness you'd folded so carefully on top of his crate, something in him softened. His tail wagged just once, like he understood that someone else was there to take care of him now.

When he came inside, it didn't take long for everyone here to fall for him. Our vet team gave him a clean bill of health. When he met our behavior team, he climbed into their laps and wanted all the attention. We're sure that doesn't surprise you at all. He's gentle. He's patient. He leans in when you talk to him, like he's listening to every word. He's calm in his kennel, polite on his leash, and has become a favorite among our volunteers. And boy, can he run and play like no other!

We don't know what brought you to that moment, to tuck him in one last time, to whisper goodbye, to walk away. We don't know why you couldn't come in and talk to us. But we can see the love in every detail. The clean blanket. The neatly folded leash. The toys chosen with care. You didn't leave him because you stopped loving him. You left him because you still do. You made sure he'd be found quickly, that he'd be safe, that he'd be cared for. That kind of love, the kind that puts another's safety before your own heartbreak, is the hardest kind there is.

We want you to know that you did right by him. Tuxedo is safe. He's healthy. He's loved by every person he meets. He'll find his new family soon, and they'll see exactly what you saw in him: the sweetness, the loyalty, the quiet courage in his eyes. And when that day comes, we'll think of you. We'll think of the love that carried him here.

Wherever you are, we hope you're safe too. We hope you can breathe a little easier knowing he's okay. We gave him a few extra ear scratches today for you.

Thank you for trusting us with him and for knowing that HSPPR was a safe place for him to go. We'll update this post when he's adopted.

With all our hearts,
Your friends at HSPPR

10/21/2025

Have you ever seen a kid hide behind their mom’s skirt when they meet new people? Yeah, these cats are exactly like that, except they don’t have moms, and most of us at the shelter don’t wear skirts (not because we’re not fashionable, but because “chic pencil skirt” and “cleaning up hairballs” don’t really go hand in hand). Meet our bashful little squad: Charlie, Olive, Thea, and Bagheera. They’re the shelter’s equivalent of kids at a birthday party who spend the first hour hiding under the table, sneaking bites of frosting off the cake. There’s absolutely nothing “wrong” with them. They’re just shy, sensitive souls who think strangers are, frankly, a bit much.

Now, if you were ever that shy kid who pretended to be invisible in gym class or made your mom order your McNuggets for you until you were like, twelve... you get it. Being shy isn’t a choice. You want to make friends, but your brain says, “What if they look at us?” and your body says, “Hide immediately.” For these cats, new people, new smells, and new places are basically the feline version of being asked to give a PowerPoint presentation in front of the entire 7th grade. They freeze, they panic, they disappear under a blanket fort of their own making.

That’s why you won’t see them lounging up front in the adoption area like, “Hey girl, you come here often?” No. These guys are more “I’m in the witness protection program; please respect my privacy.” They hang out in the back where it’s quieter and less peopley, which, unfortunately, makes it harder for them to find homes. It’s not because they don’t want love; they just need a little extra time to stop assuming every human is secretly a vacuum cleaner in disguise. When people do meet them, they often wonder, “How do I connect with a cat who’s currently trying to become one with the wall?” That’s where the 3-3-3 rule comes in, aka the timeline of feline emotional recovery.

Here’s how it works: it takes 3 days for a cat to decompress, 3 weeks to start learning your routine, and 3 months to truly feel at home
Here’s how it goes:
🐾 3 Days: Your cat is basically an anxious little alien. Everything is new, everything is terrifying, and they are not emotionally available for small talk. They might hide, skip meals, or act like you’re a ghost only they can see. Totally normal.
🐾 3 Weeks: They start to figure you out. They know where the food is, when you wake up, and which rooms are safe zones. They might start testing boundaries (“What if I put one paw on the counter? Will I be arrested?”). Their personality peeks out in little bursts, like a preview trailer for the cat they’ll become.
🐾 3 Months: This is the good part. They’ve decided you’re not a murderer, and they finally relax. They start greeting you at the door, sleeping in your laundry, and blinking at you like, “Okay fine, I love you, whatever.” It’s the start of a real, deep, slow-burn romance.

For shy cats, this might take longer, maybe a 4-4-4 or a 5-5-5 rule. But the reward? Pure magic. When a shy cat finally trusts you, it’s like being chosen by a tiny, nervous woodland creature who’s decided you’re their safe place. It’s quieter love, softer love, but it’s steady and beautiful.

So if you’ve got patience, a calm home, and the emotional strength to whisper “it’s okay” to a cat hiding behind your couch for two weeks, come meet our shy squad. They might not rush into your arms, but give them time, and they’ll end up following you from room to room, purring like you invented safety. Everyone deserves someone to hide behind until they feel brave enough to stand in the spotlight.

Address

610 Abbot Lane
Colorado Springs, CO
80905

Telephone

+17194731741

Website

http://www.hsppr.org/

Alerts

Be the first to know and let us send you an email when Humane Society of the Pikes Peak Region posts news and promotions. Your email address will not be used for any other purpose, and you can unsubscribe at any time.

Contact The Business

Send a message to Humane Society of the Pikes Peak Region:

Shortcuts

Want your business to be the top-listed Pet Store/pet Service in Colorado Springs?

About Us

Humane Society of the Pikes Peak Region is the largest nonprofit animal shelter in southern Colorado. We help nearly 28,000 animals every year. HSPPR is a local, independent nonprofit that relies on donations from individuals and foundations to fund its many humane programs. For more information, visit www.hsppr.org.

Edit

10/31/2025

10/30/2025

10/29/2025

10/29/2025

10/28/2025

10/27/2025

10/25/2025

10/24/2025

10/23/2025

10/22/2025

10/21/2025

Address

Telephone

Website

Alerts

Contact The Business

Shortcuts

Share

Category

About Us