Humane Society of the Pikes Peak Region

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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
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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!

11/15/2025

Congratulations! You walked into the shelter, locked eyes with a dog, and it’s basically love at first sniff. You’re already imagining Instagram selfies, matching Christmas pajamas, and late-night cuddle sessions. But hold up, before you start planning your lives together, there’s one tiny thing: you have to get them home first.

Think of this like a first date: your dog is excited, nervous, and 100% suspicious that you might be a serial killer. They don’t know you yet, and you don’t want them running off and ending the relationship before it even started. So here’s your foolproof guide to getting your pet home safely:

Step 1: Pre-Date Prep (Before You Leave the Shelter)
Before you even leave the shelter, it’s all about first impressions and preparation. Make sure your dog’s collar is secure and properly fitted, complete with an ID tag. Add a harness for extra security, and if your pup has Houdini tendencies, clip the leash to both the collar and harness because double commitment never hurts. Your car should be set up with a crate or seatbelt harness at the ready, so they can feel safe and you can drive without panic. Don’t forget your adoption paperwork, medications, and shelter contact info. And get all the insider info from the staff about feeding schedules, potty habits, and quirks. Nothing says “I’m paying attention” like remembering their favorite things, so take notes so you can ace your first date.

Step 2: The Car Ride (The Awkward First Drive)
The car ride is basically your first date, thrilling but anxiety-inducing. Keep your dog safely contained in a crate or seatbelt harness, like giving your date personal space while still holding hands. Windows up, convertible tops down? Nope. Not the time for dramatic hair-in-the-wind selfies. And forget any pit stops! No Starbucks, gas, or Target detours, you wouldn’t run errands on a first date! Speak calmly to soothe their nerves, but don’t reach into the crate or over-manage them; nobody likes clingy behavior. If possible, bring a wing-woman (or wing-man) along to monitor your dog, hand out treats, and make sure nothing goes sideways.

Step 3: Arriving Home (First Impression Matters)
Pull into your garage or driveway first to prevent any accidental escapes. Nobody wants a dramatic exit before dessert. Keep your dog leashed until they’re safely inside a secure area.. Let them tour their new digs at their own pace, sniffing around the yard and house like they’re picking their favorite coffee shop table. Double-check doors, gates, and fences for gaps or loose latches. Finally, create a calm space where your dog can decompress, because a little chill time after a whirlwind love story goes a long way.

Step 4: Pro Tips for a Healthy Relationship (aka Avoid Drama)
Start your relationship off on the right paw by keeping routines simple: regular meals, potty breaks, and quiet time. Avoid overwhelming adventures like dog parks or marathon walks for the first few days, giving your pup time to adjust and feel safe. And if you notice extreme fear or stress, reach out to the shelter; even the best relationships sometimes need a little professional advice.

Follow these steps, and your first day home will feel less “chaotic thriller” and more “adorable romantic comedy.”

11/14/2025

This is my second shelter, so trust me, kid, I know the routine.

Would you like the sob story first? People eat that up like it’s a two-for-one matinee. Or maybe you want a few fun facts! “What’s your favorite toy, Paparazzi?” “Do you like chin scritches, Paparazzi?” No, no, don’t tell me! You want a cute video. Some precious little clip of me batting at a feather and looking irresistible. Well, good luck! I spend most of my time up in the rafters of the cat colony room. Very mysterious. Very elusive. Very not going viral.

But hey, I’m nothing if not professional, so I’ll give the people what they want. Sob story? Fun facts? Existential despair? Step right up, folks, we’ve got it all in aisle three. And when we’re done, you go back to scrolling and I go back to my favorite hiding spot, and we both get to pretend the world is fair and life is swell, even though neither of those things has ever been true for me.

Anyway, I should introduce myself. I’m Paparazzi. I’m eight. That’s right, eight. If you were hoping for a kitten, the kind that trips over its own feet and poses like it’s auditioning for a baby-food commercial, well… you’re excused! Go on! It’s fine! Happens all the time. I’m used to watching the younger models get snapped up.

Now, why do they call me Paparazzi? Because I don’t want the spotlight, I guess. Never have. Never chased it. I just like to watch. I watch people come in, watch them meet the other cats, watch them fall in love, watch them carry someone else home in a cardboard carrier like they just won a game show I never get to be a contestant on. If I had a camera, honey, I’d fill a whole scrapbook with happy endings. But instead, they just play on a reel in my head while I sit on my little shelf and wonder if anyone will ever snap a photo like that of me.

Now, sob story, anyone? Gather close, tissues optional. I was rescued by another shelter along with five cats after my owner was diagnosed with a terminal illness. I know. Very sad. But wait, there’s more! I sat in that shelter for four whole months. The others? Adopted. Swaggering out of there with their new families like they just won Miss Congeniality. Me? I stayed. Then, cherry on top, I got dental surgery (very glamorous), felt better, even came out of the shadows, greeted people like some kind of socialite making a comeback tour. But no one chose me. So I got transferred here. New smells. New cats. New people. No familiar faces. So naturally, I went back to my safe place: the shadows.

Alright, alright, you’ve had the tragedy, you’ve had the name, what else...fun facts? Hmmmm....I’m a Ta**us. I like wet food. And I’m extremely, cosmically tired of not being chosen. I know, that last one’s not exactly a knee-slapper. How about this: I love reality TV. The drama, the alliances, the confessional moments! But do you think they put Bravo on here? No!

Look, I’ve done the song. I’ve done the dance. I’ve done the slow-motion montage with the sad music. I’ve told my very, very tragic tale. And still...nothing. Still no home. Still no person. Still no moment where someone looks at me and says, “That one. That’s my girl.”

So no, I’m not expecting this to work. I’m not expecting anything. But… If you’ve got it in your heart to give me a chance, to listen, to look up, to see the cat who’s been sitting in the rafters waiting for something, anything, to change...well… That might be nice. That might be really nice.

Because after all this time watching everyone else’s happy endings, I’d like one of my own. One picture-perfect moment. One person who finally looks up and says, “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” Could you be that person? Could you give me my moment? I’m ready for the camera. For once… I want to be the one in the shot.

11/13/2025

On this lovely November day, when the air smells like cinnamon and the trees are shaking off their last golden leaves, something quietly wonderful is happening at the shelter.

If you pause for just a moment, you’ll hear it:

Thump-thump-thump.
A tail practicing its thankful thump.

Pitter-patter-pitter.
Paws doing an excited “Pick me!” dance in their cozy kennels.

Inside the shelter live all sorts of pets, cats as soft as marshmallows, dogs as wiggly as Jell-O, and even a few shy guinea pigs and rabbits who peek out like tiny pilgrims in furry coats. And though they’re all different, they share the very same Thanksgiving wish: “I hope someone takes me home.”

They try their very best to be noticed. A hopeful hop. A brave tail wag. A soft little look that seems to say, “Maybe… maybe I could sit beside you at the table this year?”

But people get busy this time of year, baking pies, traveling across states, untangling strings of lights, and wondering where they hid last year’s fancy tablecloth. And when no one stops, the pets feel a bit like the lonely spoonful of green beans left on a toddler’s plate.

But here at the shelter, no one stays unseen and no one is forgotten.

The staff and volunteers know every wag, every purr, every turkey-trotting paw. They wrap the pets in kindness the way you wrap leftovers in foil. They bring soft blankets, warm pats, and crisp autumn walks. And they whisper, “You’re loved,” the same way families whisper blessings before a special meal.

And once a year, they do something even bigger, something that makes the whole shelter glow with holiday warmth: They prepare a real Thanksgiving feast just for the animals.

Turkey slices. Crunchy pumpkin and cranberry treats. Nutritious green beans (the kind dogs sniff first, then decide are pretty tasty). And a serving of healthy pumpkin pie.

“But how do they make such a big feast?” you might ask.

That’s where the real Thanksgiving magic begins. People like you help set the table.

You might not be able to fit hundreds of animals around your Thanksgiving dinner (imagine the chaos!), but you can give them a place in your heart. And when you donate a meal, you’re really telling a pet:

“I see you. You matter. You’re part of my family this Thanksgiving.”

And just like that, everything changes.

Tails wag like joyful little drumsticks. Eyes glow like warm kitchen windows. And for the first time in a long time, they feel truly, deeply thankful.

This year, we want to fill every bowl with all the goodness, comfort, and love a holiday can hold.

Will you help us make that happen?
https://secure.qgiv.com/for/2025thanksgivingsocialmedia

A Thanksgiving meal from you means a full dish, a full heart, and hope for a brighter, happier tomorrow.

11/12/2025

My name’s Elvis.

Yeah, that’s right... Elvis. Go ahead, get your grin out now. Happens every time someone reads my kennel card. People see the name and start humming “Hound Dog” before they’ve even met me. They expect glitter, hip shakes, maybe a cape situation. They think I’m the kind of dog who walks into a room and demands applause.

But you’ve got the wrong Elvis.

I’m not the rhinestone-studded king of rock n roll. I’m the other one. The one who wears his heart under a slightly rumpled jacket, who’s more into clever lyrics than choreography. I’m more of an Elvis Costello type if he were, say, a shelter dog with soulful eyes and an appreciation for the quieter corners of life.

I’m not the main-stage, screaming-fans kind of performer. I’m more the dimly lit back room at 11 p.m. kind, where the mic squeaks, the crowd’s small, but they’re listening. I’ve got stories, sure, a few heartbreaks, a few bad gigs, a few people who didn’t stick around for the encore, but I’ve still got heart. I’ve still got songs left in me.

I used to have a bit of that young punk energy, barking at passing cars like I had something to prove, pacing my kennel like it was a Vegas stage. But these days? I’m not about the noise. I’ve learned that it’s cooler to play it smooth. To save your voice for the people who deserve the song.

I don’t do chaos. I do chemistry. I like my circle small, just a few people who move at a good tempo, talk to me in soft voices, and maybe smell faintly of hotdogs and decency. I don’t go in for crowd surfing, but I will curl up next to you on the couch, press my head into your shoulder, and remind you that love doesn’t need a spotlight.

I’m the kind of dog who grows on you, like a melody you didn’t notice at first, but then it gets stuck in your head and somehow makes every day sound better.

So no, I’m not the King. I don’t need the crown. I just need someone who appreciates the B-sides, the slow songs, the honest ones, the ones you only play when you really want to feel something.

If you’re looking for a wild rockstar, keep walking. But if you want a dog with soul, a little scruffy, a little stubborn, pull up a chair. Let’s skip the small talk. You bring the love, I’ll bring the soundtrack. And if we’re lucky, maybe we’ll make a hit together.

https://www.hsppr.org/pet/a1759656/

11/12/2025

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.)

11/11/2025

Dear Veterans,

Hi there! My name is Wednesday, and I brought you my ball. It might not look like much, it’s a little scuffed, a little slobbery, and it squeaks only if you press it just right, but it’s my favorite thing in the whole wide world. And today, I want you to have it.

The humans at the shelter told me today is a day to thank the people called “veterans.” It’s a big word, and I had to tilt my head three times while they explained it. They said veterans are the people who have served our country, people who have stood up when it was hard, who have protected others, and who have given so much so that the rest of us can live safe and free.

That’s a kind of courage I can hardly imagine. I bark bravely at suspicious squirrels and chase away rogue leaves, but what you’ve done is real bravery, the kind that keeps everyone safe, even pups like me.

The humans said that sometimes you had to go very far from home, across oceans, and deserts, and mountains. You had to sleep in strange places, eat food that probably wasn’t very tasty, and wake up each day not knowing what would come next. You had to be strong when you missed your family, your friends, your warm bed, your morning coffee, and the sound of your own backyard. I don’t know what conflict smells like or what it feels like to be that far away, but I do know what it’s like to feel alone, to wait for your family, to hope for home. And I think that makes me understand, just a little, what a brave person you must be to choose that.

They also told me that sometimes, being a veteran means you carry hurts, some that everyone can see, and others that live quietly inside. I wish I could sit beside you and rest my head on your knee. Sometimes that helps, even if it’s just a little. I hope you know that the world is full of people and pups who see you and are grateful for you, even when you can’t always feel it.

So I want to say thank you. Thank you for your service, your sacrifice, your strength, and your heart. Thank you for the nights you stayed awake so others could sleep peacefully. Thank you for choosing to stand guard, to endure, even when it was hard. Thank you for protecting our country, our homes, our families, and even our shelter dogs.

I hope you take my ball and keep it somewhere you can see it. It’s not shiny or new, but it’s full of love, and maybe when you look at it, you’ll remember that someone, some small, wagging someone, sees you, thanks you, and loves you with her whole heart.

With all my love, gratitude, and a few happy tail wags,
Wednesday 🐾

From all of us at HSPPR (including Wednesday):

This Veterans Day, we honor the extraordinary men and women who have served our country with unwavering dedication, courage, and strength. We are profoundly grateful for the sacrifices you have made and the compassion you continue to show in your lives and communities.

To all veterans, thank you for your selfless service and for protecting the freedoms we hold dear. Today and every day, we extend our deepest gratitude for all that you have given, and all that you continue to give.

11/10/2025

It began, as good stories often do, on a crisp October morning, the kind that makes the world smell faintly of apples and possibility. Out in Peyton, a deputy placed a call. His voice was not urgent, though it carried a note of mild perplexity. There was, he said, a pig wandering near Highway 24. Just strolling along as if he owned the place.

Now, there are many sorts of pigs in the world: shy pigs, stubborn pigs, pigs who grunt suspiciously at strangers. But Forest (though he did not yet know he was called that) was not just any pig. When our Animal Law Enforcement officers arrived, they found him there on the roadside, content as could be, the sun warming his pink-and-grey back. When they called out to him, Forest trotted over with the wag of a tail that might have belonged to a golden retriever in another life. He oinked softly, as though greeting old friends, and leaned his great head into their hands for scratches.

It was love at first snout.

Forest didn’t put up a fuss about being loaded into the truck. In fact, one got the impression he would have followed those officers anywhere, into the sunset, into the great unknown, or in this case, to the shelter.

Now, most animals find the shelter a bit intimidating. The smells, the sounds, the sudden abundance of unfamiliar faces, it can be overwhelming. But not for Forest. No, Forest took to shelter life as if he’d just checked into a five-star countryside inn. Out in the barn, with straw under his hooves and a pen to himself, he was living the dream. He had breakfast delivered on schedule, belly rubs on demand, and an admiring staff who could hardly resist telling him fifty times a day what a very good pig he was.

His favorite pastime, however, was people-watching, or rather, dog-watching. Each day, as volunteers led the dogs out for their walks, Forest would saunter to his gate to greet them all. He seemed convinced that every tail-wagging creature was a potential friend. The dogs, for their part, often regarded him as one might regard an extraterrestrial being, with a mix of awe and suspicion. Forest didn’t mind in the slightest. He simply wagged his tail.

Now, pigs are clever creatures (far cleverer than we often give them credit for) and our team knew he needed enrichment. So, every day brought a new amusement: snuffle mats, puzzle feeders, a ball pit, even a carved jack-o’-lantern that Forest consumed with gratitude and glee.

But even the happiest chapters must end eventually. The shelter is a waystation, not a home, and one day, while Forest was visiting the behavior office (he was something of a staff favorite, you see, and often invited indoors for “meetings”), word arrived that a family wanted to meet him.

They came with kind eyes and gentle hands and, to our delight (and heartbreak), fell in love at once. “He’s the friendliest pig,” they said, which we already knew, of course. They had prepared a perfect setup for him: a spacious enclosure, cozy shelter, and plenty of love. They even brought a carrier for him to travel home in. They were ready.

We, on the other hand, were not.

Still, with damp eyes and reluctant smiles, we gave him a few final ear scratches and watched as he was led away, his little tail giving a cheerful wag that said, “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

Now, when we glance out toward the barn, the space feels a touch too quiet. There’s an empty pen where Forest once stood, grunting contentedly as he awaited his next snack or social call. It’s funny how a creature you’ve known only a short while can take up permanent residence in your heart.

But we know Forest is home now, truly home, rooting happily in his yard, basking in sunlight, and charming yet another set of humans who will never again look at pigs the same way. And we’re proud to have taken him from a highway to a home.

11/08/2025

It’s National Animal Shelter Appreciation Week, and we’re celebrating YOU!

This week, the spotlight isn’t just on our furry friends (though they are adorable), or our amazing staff (though they are amazing), it’s on our incredible community of adopters, volunteers, donors, and supporters who make all the magic at HSPPR possible.

From the very moment an animal steps into our shelter, our team is on it: providing medical care, enrichment, socialization, ear scratches, treats, and, of course, helping them find their new homes. But the secret ingredient? It’s you! Every adoption, every foster, every donation, every volunteer hour, you make our work possible.

And in honor of this special week, we want to hear your Happy Tails!

🏡Did you adopt your best friend from HSPPR and watch them turn your house into a home?
💉Did your pet swing by our Wellness Waggin’ for a quick checkup or vaccine?
💖Have you volunteered and seen firsthand the difference your love and time can make? 💖

Whatever your story, we want to celebrate it with you! Drop your Happy Tail in the comments below, and let’s fill the feed with wagging tails, purring cuddles, and all the joy your support brings! 🐾

11/08/2025

Last night, you woke up in a cold sweat. Why? Because Thanksgiving is sneaking up faster than your uncle sneaks second helpings. You wander your kitchen at 3 a.m., haunted by last year’s memories: your mother-in-law calling your mashed potatoes “glorified Elmer’s glue,” your cousin dragging her new boyfriend to the table only for him to dramatically brandish a turkey leg like a sword and recite the entire Braveheart pre-battle speech, and Aunt Josie, in her infinite wisdom, plunging a spoon into a can of cranberry sauce and calling it a day. And let’s not even talk about the dishes, all of which were done by you.

Yes, Thanksgiving can be a little… intense. But it’s also the season when families gather, laughter (and chaos) fills the house, and somehow, between turkey-induced comas and dessert debates, we all feel a little more connected.

Meanwhile, at HSPPR, hundreds of pets are patiently waiting for their own seat at the table. They don’t have weird cousins, eccentric aunts, or someone critiquing their gravy. They don’t even have a couch to flop onto while the parade blares in the background. But what they do have is hope, and you can make that hope shine a little brighter this year!

This Thanksgiving, our amazing staff and volunteers are whipping up a special shelter feast: real turkey, crisp green beans, healthy pumpkin pie, and a few extra ear scratches for good measure. By donating a meal, you’re doing more than filling a bowl; you’re sharing love, comfort, and the message that these animals are seen, valued, and cherished.

Join this heartwarming tradition today. Give a Thanksgiving meal to a pet in need. With your help, their holiday table will be full, their hearts will be happy, and next year? Maybe they’ll even have a human, or a whole family, to follow around the kitchen.

You can give a shelter pet a Thanksgiving meal at this link today: https://secure.qgiv.com/for/2025thanksgivingsocialmedia

11/06/2025

Some dogs are terribly simple to describe. They like treats, belly rubs, and chasing things that do not wish to be chased. Some people are simple, too. They wake up, eat toast, go to work, and are perfectly content to remain quite unremarkable. But those sorts of dogs and people, while very nice and tidy, do tend to be a little... well... dull.

Fortunately, Theodore is not one of those dogs. Unfortunately, this makes explaining him rather tricky indeed.

You see, Theodore is rather like that accountant in your office who means terribly well, but startles quite easily. If you approach him too suddenly, all the Tootsie Rolls he’s carefully arranged in a neat little bowl to seem “approachable” will go flying into the air, and he will look so flustered and apologetic that you’ll feel quite dreadful for startling him. You’ll both spend the next ten minutes picking up candies in awkward silence, and then, because he’s a good sort of fellow, he’ll quietly offer you one as a peace offering.

Still not clear? All right, we’ll try again.

Theodore is also a bit like that math teacher you once had, the one who wore slightly rumpled shirts and smelled faintly of chalk dust and burnt coffee. The other students teased him for being peculiar, but you secretly thought he was quite nice. He didn’t much like being fussed over, so when you tried to thank him after class, he grew terribly grumbly and pretended to be busy marking papers. But when you got the lead in the school play, he caught you in the hallway, gave you a swift, shy high-five, and said, “Good job,” before hurrying off, red in the face but pleased as punch.

Do you see it now? No? Perhaps one more.

Theodore is like that friend who never quite knows what to say in a group chat, never answers the phone on the first ring, and often disappears at parties to “check on the snacks.” But when you need him, truly need him, he’s there. Always. Sitting beside you on the couch, watching your favorite movie (even though he doesn’t particularly like it), quietly handing you tissues at just the right moments, and never once making you feel silly for crying. He’s that kind of friend.

So yes, Theodore can be a bit anxious and easily overwhelmed. He sometimes looks cross when really, he’s just confused by all the noise and feelings happening at once. He might hide or huff a little, but it isn’t anger, it’s just Theodore trying very hard to be brave in a big, baffling world.

He’s looking for a family who understands that sort of thing, a gentle, patient household with no other dogs (they make him terribly nervous) and plenty of calm, cozy corners where he can think his thoughts and eat his bones in peace. A cat might be possible, if the introductions are very slow and there’s mutual respect about personal space.

Some dogs are easy to explain, but not especially interesting. Theodore, however, is a little mystery wrapped in fur, a thoughtful, tender-hearted soul who may take some time to understand, but once you do, you’ll find that although he’s difficult to explain, he’s really quite easy to love.

https://www.hsppr.org/pet/a1751627/

11/05/2025

Once upon a time, in a kingdom of kennels and squeaky toys, there lived a young pup named Pea.

Pea was not your average fairytale dog. He was loud when others were quiet, bouncy when others were calm, and dramatic when others were, well… less so. He barked at shadows, hoarded his favorite toys like dragon treasure, and possessed an enthusiasm for life that could knock over a full-grown knight.

So, the people labeled him. Too much, they said. Too much energy. Too much work. Just too much.

But here at HSPPR, we don’t believe in labels or limits or writing stories in permanent marker. We looked at Pea and saw a pup with a heart too big for his tiny frame, a spark waiting to become a star. All he needed was a bit of patience, a sprinkle of love, and perhaps a touch of magic.

Before the magic could truly begin, Pea faced a tricky villain: a pesky parasite called Coccidia. Pea’s tummy was in turmoil, and his royal mood quite sour. Our noble veterinary wizards leapt into action, armed with enchanted potions (or, if you prefer, medications) and plenty of treats. Within days, Pea’s stomach settled, his tail began to wag again, and he was ready to conquer his next quest, learning how to be the best boy he could be.

The behavior sages and volunteer knights took him under their care. Together, they taught him to walk proudly on his leash, to share his royal toys, and to spend his energy wisely, through games, puzzles, and joyful adventures.

And lo and behold, the truth was revealed: Pea was never too much. He simply needed a little more. More understanding, more kindness, and more time to show the shining pup he truly was.

When Pea was finally ready to find his new kingdom, he worried that people might still see those old labels. But fate had other plans. One day, through the shelter doors walked his hero, or, more accurately, his princess, not in a gown, but in sneakers and a smile.

The moment they met, Pea’s tail wagged like it had been waiting just for her. She saw him for who he truly was: brave, goofy, full of love, and all those old labels simply melted away. And so, the Princess and Pea rode off into the sunset together (well, okay, they walked out the shelter doors, but it felt like a sunset).

Now, the Princess and Pea live their fairytale life together. He sleeps on a satin pillow beside her head, goes to work with her every day, and charms everyone he meets across the land. He’s traveled to faraway kingdoms like California, and even braved the neon dragons of Las Vegas (where he was very good, and perhaps only slightly dramatic).

Together, they proved that sometimes you’re not too much, you’re simply waiting for the person who’s just right for you.

Pea’s story reminds us that sometimes you’re not “too much," you’re just enough for the right heart to love you exactly as you are. 💚

And stories like Pea’s are made possible thanks to the incredible generosity of our friends at the Animal Assistance Foundation. Their support helps us turn “too much” into “just enough” for pets who need a second chance at their happily ever after.

Here’s to Pea, his princess, and many more fairytales yet to come. ✨🐾

Address

610 Abbot Lane
Colorado Springs, CO
80905

Telephone

+17194731741

Website

http://www.hsppr.org/

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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.

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