Nine rescued souls. Nine bow ties. One house that went from grief-heavy silence to absolute, joyful, magnificent bedlam — because the universe left five cats on our deck at 2 AM and we said yes anyway.
She was six months old, five pounds, and starving — keeping four babies alive on a body that had nothing left to give. All five of them live here now.
Five pounds. Six months old. Four babies. A baby with babies. Took fourteen months to decide we were worth trusting — and she was right to take her time.
Read Nova's story →
Twenty-five percent Maine Coon, one hundred percent golden retriever. Named for Brad's grandpa. Ate the entire Popeyes order. Felt no remorse whatsoever.
Read Mack's story →
Runs the household's criminal enterprise and its pest control division, frequently at the same time. Does not commit the crimes. Arranges them.
Walks the house on a loop at 3 AM, checking corners nobody asked him to check. No threat has ever been found. He considers this evidence the patrol is working.
Nova, copy-pasted. Long legs, soft heart, permanently hungry, and routinely muscled off his own snack by siblings half his size. Files one complaint. Never files another.
The vet gave Brad the numbers. What happens to black cats. How many end up in shelters. How many don't come out.
Brad didn't need his arm twisted.
Here's what you have to understand about us. Between the two of us we have raised eight children. We were done. The house was supposed to be quiet now.
In June of 2025 it was quiet. Just not the way anyone wants.
So we made two decisions. The first one was responsible — Nova spayed, Diva spayed, the boys neutered. No more. Not one more.
The second one wasn't about being responsible. It was about being fair.
Nova was six months old. She should have been somebody's kitten. Instead she was a mother — starving, hunted, holding four lives together on a body that had nothing left in it. Nobody asked her if she wanted any of it.
So we asked the only question we still had the power to answer.
Yes. She keeps them. All five stay.
Four more who arrived separately — from storms and creeks and the undercarriage of an eighteen-wheeler — and decided this was where they lived now.
Survived a storm, a creek, and his own permanent attitude. Was feral long before feral was a vibe.
Read Spitz's story →
Raised by hand from day one. Now operates like he owns the building and you owe back rent in treats. Remains convinced the sky is trying to murder him.
Read Gizmo's story →
Rode under an eighteen-wheeler out of Texas and made his own arrangements. Fully indoors, fully formal, convinced this was always the plan. 2019 – 2026.
Read Tex's story →
Arrived feral and furious. Now demands chest scratches at 5 AM sharp. Also served as Nova's legal representative for roughly a year.
Read Dallas's story →
A Ring camera caught a small black cat on the deck — terrified, feral, barely six months old — trying to keep four babies alive on a body that had nothing left to give. At 2 AM she brought all four to the garage. We closed the door. Five terrified lives came in that night.
She looked completely recovered by that August. She wasn't. A cat can look healed long before she feels safe — and that gap is the part nobody warns you about.
He got under a truck in Texas and rode it to Georgia — uninvited, undeterred, and absolutely furious about the situation. Nobody sent for him. Nobody asked. He made a decision and it led here: to a plaid collar, a backyard, and people who loved him so hard it still hurts.
Good boy. Chaotic boy. Our boy.
Read Tex's storyNine cats. Nine completely different opinions about how this household should be run. They write them down. We publish them against our better judgement.
"I yielded. I allowed our human mom affection. I even purred. She waited exactly 1 year, 2 months, 6 days and approximately 4-ish hours for this moment. Consistency is important when training humans."
"Gizmo is absolutely convinced the sky is trying to murder him. Personally, I call them weather. Meanwhile Mack has entered his daily emotional support human season. Diary — she cannot negotiate with clouds."
"I was asked to act natural. This is natural. The bugs of this house remain under active investigation and I will not be taking questions at this time."
More diaries are moving over from Facebook — the full archive is on its way.