No one at Tri-City Animal Shelter knows what Arlo’s life was like before he was picked up off the streets of Cedar Hill. A terrier mix, his white hair was dirty and matted, and so long his eyes were barely visible. Once he came to Tri-City, he never stopped trembling. If someone so much as spoke to him, he would pee on himself out of fright. He had to be coaxed and soothed to come out of his kennel even long enough for his vaccinations.

This June, a resident of Hageman Street in Cedar Hill walked into their back yard, looked up and saw a lizard. To their astonishment, it was bright orange. And five feet long. An iguana. They called the fire department because – who else do you call to get a giant reptile out of a tree?

For Greg Porter, animal services was an accidental job. When he first arrived in town, in 1987, he was a 20-year-old college student eager for a summer internship. A junior at SMU who wanted to learn about city governments, he had just about given up finding a job when someone suggested he make a cold call to Cedar Hill. 

He was a German shepherd named Zeus, a big fellow, charging full blast down Red Bird Lane when an animal control officer spotted him on July 5. He was trembling, but friendly when he arrived at Tri-City Animal Shelter. And he had lots of company when he got there. The Day After Fireworks is the shelter’s busiest day of the year.

The man was clearly distraught the morning he arrived at Tri-City Animal Shelter with his cat, whom he had named Kuba. She was a Maine Coon mix, blackish brown and white with a bushy, majestic tail. She was 16 years old. He kept reaching into the carrier to soothe her.

After they both retired, the Robersons learned that Tri-City Animal Shelter needed volunteer dog walkers. The shelter staff makes sure that all the dogs get outside every day, but most days the workers are so overwhelmed with the day-to-day tasks of feeding, cleaning and caring for the animals there’s not a lot of time to spoil any one particular resident. That’s where shelter volunteers like Dwight and Pat come in.

In March of 2023, the Tri-City Animal Shelter got a call about a stray chicken in Duncanville. The young bird was spotted roaming, appropriately enough, on Oriole Street. When animal control officers picked her up, they noticed how remarkably congenial she was. Not only did she let everyone handle her without objection, she seemed to crave human companionship. Like a dog. With feathers.

When Kate Rugroden moved to North Texas in the early 2000s, she didn’t anticipate that she would one day have a room in her house just for bats—dozens of them, some not much bigger than a Tootsie Roll. They are dark brown, freckled, or jet black. All her bats have one thing in common: They wouldn’t survive without her.

Jill Thompson knew exactly the kind of kitten she wanted: confident, outgoing, interactive. She was looking for a cat she could train (yes, trained cats are a thing) and take to cat shows and enter in the Household Pets category. As she stood in front of the viewing windows at Tri-City Animal Shelter, one fellow came up to the glass to say hello. He seemed bold and sure of himself. After playing with him for a few minutes, Jill knew he was the one. She named him Skipper.

Milo wasn’t supposed to go to Wisconsin.

It was early November, and Tri-City Animal Shelter staff put together a list of dogs to be moved elsewhere. The transfer was routine — a kind of pressure valve to help relieve shelter overcrowding by transporting dogs to cities with more space. Milo’s name wasn’t included, but somehow he still got loaded into the van. A few days later, he arrived at the Humane Society in Green County, WI.

The Robbins family lives on a quiet road at the edge of Cedar Hill, a place people go to live in the country with backyards of donkeys, horses and goats. So they were surprised one blazing hot day in July to find a Chihuahua under the carport, a tiny creature who somehow traveled a long way without a coyote, hawk or bobcat finding him first.

This summer, a woman arrived at Tri-City Animal Shelter with a blue heeler she could no longer care for. The shelter was full that day—as they are most days. Dogs in kennels were lining the hallways, but still, the staff found a place. The woman had named her dog Winn Dixie, after the children’s book.

Abbey arrived at Tri-City shelter as a stray, with fur so long and matted her paws looked like they belonged to a bigger dog and her eyes to a much smaller one. She cowered in her kennel and snapped at the shelter staff who tried to take care of her.

Milo and Cricket recently arrived at Tri-City shelter, both picked up as strays. They’re the kind of dog that will walk obediently on a leash and lean in for a scratch behind the ears —habits that are normally instant crowd pleasers. But one thing makes these guys hard to adopt. Neither of them are young.

When Jim and Donna Strickland came to Tri-City Animal Shelter in 2016, they weren’t sure they were ready to adopt a dog. But if they did get one, they knew exactly what kind of dog they had in mind: One that was young, and female.

From the day Max arrived at Tri-City Animal Shelter, the blue and gold macaw made sure that everyone always knew what kind of mood he was in. And most of the time, it was grumpy. No one could touch him without risking a bite from his oversized beak. Get too close, and he would spread his wings and hiss, his pupils dilating and contracting. Play music he didn’t like, and he would protest with a scream — an ear-splitting, I’m-being-eaten-by-zombies scream.

The emails finally got to Carolyn Skeels in the spring of 2014. As a longtime employee for the City of Cedar Hill, she would receive a message every year from Tri-City Animal Shelter pleading for kitten foster care. Most years, she would read it, think for a minute, and move on to the next email. But then one year she answered: Yes, she could take some kittens.

A frantic call came to the shelter one afternoon in May of 2020: A two-month-old orange tabby had suffered life-threatening injuries after climbing into a car engine for a nap. When someone started the car, the fan belt seared the left side of her head. Tri-City shelter staff raced to the scene to extract the kitten from the motor. They also called Dr. Donna Fuller, DVM.

Vernon and Karen Taylor met in the 1960s, when Karen was living in Africa with her parents and Vernon was in the Air Force. They married and spent the next 25 years traveling the world, having a son and daughter along the way, before finally settling in Cedar Hill. In 2013, while they were planning their golden wedding anniversary, tragedy struck. Vernon passed away from cancer.

When Grand Prairie police broke up an illegal cock-fighting breeder operation on April 27, 2021, everyone involved had to come up with a plan: where to place 359 birds. Chicks and hens might have been easy, but roosters grotesquely prized for fighting were another matter. Grand Prairie Animal Services suspected dozens of them were on the property, and they would need to be evacuated immediately. They contacted the non-profit Animal Investigation and Response and the Tri-City Animal Shelter for help.