Humane Society of the Pikes Peak Region

Humane Society of the Pikes Peak Region HSPPR offers compassionate care, supports safe communities, & provides socially conscious sheltering.
(1096)

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!

✨It takes two!✨Sure, finding that one perfect fluffball who steals your heart is amazing… but let’s be real, life is bet...
08/23/2025

✨It takes two!✨

Sure, finding that one perfect fluffball who steals your heart is amazing… but let’s be real, life is better with a partner in crime. There’s something so wonderful about two animals who are basically the peanut butter to each other’s jelly or the fries to each other’s burger.

We’re talking non-stop zoomies together, synchronized napping, stealing snacks side by side, and plotting adorable mischief like the tiny chaotic legends they are.

So don’t be shy, slide into our comments with pics of your dynamic duos, your bonded BFFs, your partners-in-snuggle, your double-trouble dream team. We wanna see them in action being cute, silly, and proving that life’s just better when you have your bestie by your side. Bonus points for matching outfits or synchronized side-eye at the human. 🐶🐱💖

In the realm of Colorado Springs, where the mountains hum with old magic and the rivers carry whispers of forgotten ques...
08/22/2025

In the realm of Colorado Springs, where the mountains hum with old magic and the rivers carry whispers of forgotten quests, there lived a giant named Oreo. He was no ordinary giant, though the word “ordinary” has never rightly belonged to giants in the first place. Oreo was a colossus of black and white, his coat marked like storm clouds scattered across snow. Yet within him, his heart often shrank to the size of a sparrow, for it was weighed down by the invisible chains of loneliness.

Giants, according to the scrolls of the Lorekeepers, were created in the First Dawn to be companions of men. They were guardians of hearth and field, joyful playfellows to children, and steadfast defenders of their chosen families. But when a giant is left without companionship, their hearts grow heavy, as though they carry a mountain within their chest. Such was Oreo’s sorrow.

He had once belonged to a family, and he had loved them mightily. But love, though mighty, is not always enough to close every rift. There were gaps, and in those gaps, solitude crept in like a thief. And so, though he lived among them, Oreo still wandered alone in spirit. For giants are not the hermits that wandering bards sing of in taverns to make solitude sound noble. No, true giants are creatures of fellowship, built for laughter, built for belonging. To be left alone without companionship is, for them, a wound deeper than any sword could cut.

So Oreo began to wander the land, searching. He slipped beneath fences as though they were no more than ribbons, wriggled through gates left ajar, and padded softly into new villages with his hopeful eyes. He sought not gold nor glory, but simply a heart that would not turn him away.

It was during these wanderings that a good Samaritan found him. There, on the sunlit road, the giant sat beside her, not with ferocity but with quiet dignity, as though he were a knight awaiting a summons. Moved by his gentleness, she called upon the noble guardians known as Animal Law Enforcement to take Oreo to the Shelter, a fortress of safety for the lost and waiting.

But the old songs warn us: Shelters are not made for giants. Their walls are narrow, their yards small, and though the keepers are kind and their hands gentle, a giant’s spirit does not fit easily within such confines. Oreo tries to be brave, yet still he feels the ache of solitude pressing down upon him. He ponders, as giants often do, all the reasons he has not yet found his destined home.

He knows he is awkward with other hounds at first and needs slow introductions as carefully measured as the turning of the seasons. He knows he has a trickster’s gift for escape, and thus must be guarded with the magic of a crate. He knows his energy is abundant, his strides built for running beside adventurers, and his heart longing for a family who loves to laugh at his goofy, galloping joy.

Yet none of these seem, to Oreo, reason enough to condemn him to solitude forever.

Sometimes, staring toward the jagged peaks, Oreo wonders if there is some forgotten prophecy etched on the mountains: This gentle giant shall walk alone until the end of days. The thought chills him. But then, like a candle guttering in the wind, hope flickers within his chest. Perhaps the stones speak of something else. Perhaps they promise adventures yet to come: long journeys on forest trails, games in sunlit fields, nights of rest by the hearth with his head resting on a beloved’s knee.

But this, dear reader, is the sorrowful truth: Oreo’s story has not yet reached its ending. The book lies open. The final pages remain unwritten. And a giant, no matter how gentle, cannot write such endings for himself. That is where you come in.

You may be the one this story has been waiting for, the companion written into Oreo’s destiny, the hero who will shatter the spell of loneliness. Share his tale across the kingdom so that others might know him. Or, if your heart feels the stirrings of fate, step into the story yourself. Take this gentle black-and-white guardian into your home, and together you will pen the ending that he has so long awaited. Oreo is not meant to be lonely; he is meant to be loved. And the final chapter of his tale rests in your hands.

https://www.hsppr.org/pet/a1745727/

It’s time for your weekly dose of Hand-Picked Cats!These kitties are truly something special, so we’ve gone full fairy g...
08/21/2025

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.)

Ugggggghhhhhhh. Bro. I can't.Name's Ozzie. And let's not get it twisted: I'm a good dog. A solid dude. Some might even s...
08/20/2025

Ugggggghhhhhhh. Bro. I can't.

Name's Ozzie. And let's not get it twisted: I'm a good dog. A solid dude. Some might even say varsity-level fantastic. If the shelter had a "Best All Around" superlative, my face would be there. You know the type: star of the football team, but still helps the theater kids build sets, and also somehow shows up at the debate team car wash just to hold signs on the corner. That's me. I'm cool, but like, approachable.

And the shelter staff? Total legends. Nothing but respect. They're like the cool teachers who let you put your head down during first period or bring donuts on test day. I vibe with them. But, like… bro. This place is giving "mandatory study hall." Like, spiritually, I'm checked out.

At first, I was doing the whole honor roll dog thing. Sitting pretty, tail wagging, giving everyone my best "pick me for homecoming court" smile. I was on that grind. But then I hit, like… week three. And now? Nah, fam. Now I'm pulling full senior prank energy. Nothing wild, just barking louder, being a little dramatic, basically TP-ing the metaphorical principal's office. I'm not mad, it's just… I need attention. I need OUT.

Here's the deal: I love people. I love dogs. I'm literally built for family life. I should be chilling in your backyard, catching tennis balls, stealing sandwiches off the picnic table, maybe riding shotgun in your Jeep with my ears flapping while you blast some throwback playlist from 2012. I just don't belong here anymore.

And I promise, once I graduate, I'll leave my "rowdy senior" phase behind. No more barking rants about how the treats taste like cold cafeteria chicken nuggets. No more acting out for attention. I'll be on my best behavior...well, as best as a fun, goofy, slightly too-energetic jock dog can be.

So please. PLEASE. Hand me my diploma (or a squeaky toy in the shape of a bone), turn that tassel (metaphorically, unless you have a tiny dog-sized graduation cap in which case… yes, please), and let me walk across the stage into a real home.

And if you adopt me, I swear on the sacred varsity jacket of destiny that I'll be your MVP for life.

Now excuse me while I carve "Ozzie wuz here" into the wall.

You might remember a certain pig who once had a very famous friend: a spider who spun words into her web. Our friend Gem...
08/19/2025

You might remember a certain pig who once had a very famous friend: a spider who spun words into her web. Our friend Gemma, however, did not have a spider. Instead, she had something even better: three orange cats in a trench coat.

Now, if you're not familiar with three orange cats in a trench coat, you should know that they are prone to nonsense. They squabble over which hat to wear, they argue about semicolons (no, Chat GPT is not the only one who uses them), and they can rarely agree on what to have for lunch. But when they met Gemma, something happened. They stopped fussing. They stopped fiddling. They looked at each other, whiskers twitching, and all three agreed on one thing: Gemma was "Some Pig".

Gemma's story began in the middle of a road in Southern Colorado Springs, where she planted her 250-pound self as if she owned the pavement. She did not own the pavement, of course, but she had a sort of regal air about her that made you think: "Well, perhaps she should." It was no small task for Animal Law Enforcement to rescue her, but with patience and determination (and, one imagines, a good deal of snacks), they brought her safely to the shelter.

That's where the orange cats spotted her. "Look at her," said the first cat, peering out from the buttons of the trench coat. "She's terrific."
"She's radiant," declared the second cat.
"And she's even humble," added the third.
And indeed, she was.

The cats, being incapable of spinning silk or weaving webs, did what they knew best: they told a story. They wrote about Gemma's sweetness, her cleverness, and her fondness for belly rubs. They argued over adjectives, debated the use of the Oxford comma, and knocked over two cups of coffee (not theirs) in the process. But in the end, they produced something they thought might be enough, a story worthy of a pig.

Of course, a story in the paws of three cats would have gone nowhere at all without you. You shared it. You shouted Gemma's name to your neighbors. You carried her tale across fences and dinner tables, and you made it grow bigger and brighter until something remarkable happened: Gemma found her home.

Now, when animals leave the shelter, we sometimes don't hear much more from them. They are busy, after all. Dogs are learning new tricks, cats are choosing new windowsills, and pigs are...well, pigs are wallowing, which is important business. Hooves are not well-suited to email, and Gemma is far too dignified for texting. But today, we received the most wonderful update from her new family (and some very cute pictures).

Gemma, it turns out, is thriving. She may not have a blue ribbon, but she is unquestionably first place in her family's heart. She spends her days rooting, snuffling, and rolling about, enjoying the comforts of her home, and living a life every bit as wonderful as the cats once dreamed for her.

And so it seems that Gemma never needed a spider after all. Sometimes, all you need is a team of officers with kind hands, a shelter full of people who care, three orange cats in a trench coat with strong opinions on grammar, and an entire community willing to rally around a pig in need. That, we think, is even more magical than Charlotte's web.

Gemma, you really are "Some Pig".

Dear Diary,I woke up today with a very, very serious mission which is basically "figure out why literally nobody wants m...
08/18/2025

Dear Diary,

I woke up today with a very, very serious mission which is basically "figure out why literally nobody wants me" which, yes, is a little dramatic, but also scientifically valid because I have been counting days and doing mental calculations and I officially have been at the shelter for one month which in dog years is basically a lifetime. I am the dog with the longest stay at the shelter, which is low-key a little embarrassing. So naturally, I'm feeling like a puzzle piece that doesn't fit anyone's puzzle.

Anyway, statistics: I've had exactly one single visitor in a month, and they were nice but also left without me, so now I have nothing to show for all this time except for memorizing all the volunteers' names. Meanwhile, all the other cute dogs, especially the loud ones who bark like they're narrating an action movie and the tiny ones who bite shoelaces like they're hosting a prank show, are getting adopted left and right, which is confusing because technically, I am ALSO cute and would probably be considered a genius if they did IQ tests for dogs.

So, Diary, here is what I did today because I am a very organized and determined problem-solver (Hermione Granger would be impressed, I'm sure): I made a list of every possible reason nobody wants me and then came up with solutions for each one.

Problem #1: People say I have a head the size of a watermelon.
Solution: Conduct a real-life scientific demonstration. Have the staff take me to the grocery store's produce aisle. Stand politely next to melons. Demonstrate that my head is only 3/5 the size of a watermelon. (Optional: carry a measuring tape to prove it. Bonus: wear a bow for cuteness factor.)

Problem #2: I get nervous around other dogs.
Solution: Acquire a long stick or broom or foam noodle and carry it at all times. It's a buffer zone. Think medieval knight, but also think socially conscious dog who respects personal space. Optional: practice bowing politely while holding stick so other dogs know I'm friendly but also formidable. Also, maybe learn to do small twirls while holding stick to show confidence.

Problem #3: I licked my leg too much, and it caused a sore.
Solution: Stop licking leg. Extremely difficult because licking leg is comforting in the same way humans bite nails or re-read awkward texts from people who ghosted them. Possible distraction strategies: chew toys, or attempt to count all the ceiling tiles, but only get to 37 before falling asleep.

Problem #4: I'm not bouncy like some of the other dogs.
Solution: Practice bouncing. Morning bounce, mid-morning bounce, maybe evening bounce. Optional: do slow-motion bounces for dramatic effect. Also optional: sing "Eye of the Tiger" while bouncing to enhance effect. But, worry: bouncing too much makes humans think "hyper," bouncing too little makes humans think "boring," so we must find the perfect bounce coefficient, which is scientifically challenging but not impossible.

Problem #5: I'm not a Golden Retriever
Solution: Embrace my blockhead identity! I am thoughtful, loyal, and full of personality that doesn't fit the "classic fluffy everyone-pleaser" mold, which is actually kind of wonderful because it means the right person will truly appreciate me for me.

But still, Diary, there's this tiny, rude voice in the back of my head that whispers, "Maybe you're just not enough." I try to ignore it, but then it whispers louder while I chew kibble and watch a volunteer scratch the ears of a bouncy dog, and my chest feels tight like a backpack overloaded with books.

But then! Sometimes a volunteer scratches my ears in the perfect spot, or someone says I'm "sweet" instead of "awkward" or "shy" and suddenly maybe I'm not a leftover puzzle piece but a rare, valuable puzzle piece that just has quirky edges that don't fit most people's puzzles, but will eventually fit the right puzzle.

Anyway. That's today's extremely important, highly scientific mission log. End of entry.

Love,
Your Favorite Awkward Watermelon-Headed Dog,
Daisy

Alright, listen up. We have something very important to ask you. What’s better than a cold beer, outside, in the perfect...
08/17/2025

Alright, listen up. We have something very important to ask you. What’s better than a cold beer, outside, in the perfect Colorado sunshine, with your dog by your side?

We know what you’re thinking: “Nothing. That’s the pinnacle. That’s nirvana. That’s the moment angels start singing and someone brings you free nachos.” Wrong. The only thing better is doing all of that while helping homeless pets in our community at Pawtoberfest.

Here’s the cold, frothy truth: Pawtoberfest is only a few weeks away. Which means your window for becoming the fun, cool, dog-loving, beer-drinking legend you were destined to be is closing.

We get it, you’ve been busy. You’ve been hiking fourteeners with your dog looking at you like, “Why did you bring me here?” You’ve been posting patio selfies while your dog shamelessly stares at the next table’s burger. You’ve been lying on the living room floor in front of a fan with your dog in a heat-induced trance like you’re both extras in a zombie movie. And somehow, in all that chaos, you forgot to buy your tickets.

But right now, you’re doomscrolling. Which means you have no excuse. This is your sign. Click the link. Get your tickets. Cement your place in your dog’s personal hall of fame: https://bit.ly/413EDU0

Here’s the deal: On September 13, Union Printers Home at Printers Hill will transform into a magical beer-and-dog utopia. Picture this: every direction you turn, there’s a happy, wagging tail. People are in costumes. Dogs are in costumes. There’s music, food, vendors, and fun contests for you and your dog.

This isn’t just for your Instagram feed; it’s for HSPPR, so we can give thousands of animals the second chance they deserve. Every beer, every ticket, and every photo of a dachshund dressed like a hot dog helps save lives.

So here’s what’s going to happen: you’re going to get your tickets, grab your dog, and bring every single friend you’ve ever made, even that one friend who swears they “aren’t a dog person” but will absolutely ugly-cry when they see a golden retriever in a bumblebee costume.

Pawtoberfest is coming. The beer will be cold. The dogs will be adorable. And your heart will be full knowing you helped dogs, just like yours, find their happy tails.

It all started at that one family dinner you'll never forget.The restaurant was loud, like "the espresso machine sounds ...
08/16/2025

It all started at that one family dinner you'll never forget.

The restaurant was loud, like "the espresso machine sounds exactly like a rocket launch" loud. Your sweater felt like it was knitted from cactus and fiberglass. The air was warm in that weird "I think I might have a fever, but I can't tell" way. Someone ordered fish that smelled like it had been stored in a tire. And then your gregarious uncle kept sneaking in surprise back-pats, like he was trying to reboot your nervous system.

You tried to ignore it, but then your cousin started scraping her teeth on her fork. Over. And over. And over. It was the final straw. You couldn't quite pinpoint why you were ready to fling your dessert across the table, but you were officially a ticking time bomb, one that eventually exploded into you saying something slightly mean to your dad for no reason whatsoever, and now you think about it every time you try to go to sleep.

That, my friend, was overstimulation. And cats? They know exactly how you feel.

If you've walked through our shelter, you've probably seen the label "overstimulated" on some of our cats' kennel cards. A lot of people see that and think, "Oh no, this one's a jerk." But no, these are normal, often very sweet and playful, cats. They just sometimes experience their own version of The Dinner Incident.

You've probably met one before: they're purring away, loving your pets… and then suddenly they whip their head around and give your hand the "absolutely not" treatment. It feels random, but it's not. Too much touch can actually start to feel painful for cats, triggering a neurological "make it stop" response.

Sometimes this happens because they're stressed from shelter life. Sometimes it's because they grew up without healthy boundaries. Sometimes they're bored and craving enrichment. And sometimes they're just wired to have a lower "touch tolerance."

The thing is, cats are actually very good at telling you when they're getting overstimulated. You just have to know the signs: a twitching back, tail flicking like a metronome, pupils widening into full haunted-doll mode, extra vocalizing, head-whipping toward your hand, or giving you a little paw tap that says, "We're done here."

When you see these, step away. Give them breathing room. Think of it like when you excused yourself to the bathroom that night to have a minor panic attack before your teeth-scraping cousin came in to redo her lipstick.

And just like you learned to avoid itchy sweaters and fish-scented rooms, you can help a cat avoid overstimulation:
🐾 Let your cat pet you: Offer your hand and let them decide how much rubbing they want.
🐾Stick to favorite zones: Many cats prefer head, chin, or cheek scratches over long back strokes.
🐾Keep sessions short: Test the waters with just a few pets.
🐾Enrichment matters: Food puzzles, window perches, bird videos, and toys (especially ones like feather wands that keep some distance between your hands and them) keep their brains busy and stress lower.

Because moving from one home, or even the streets, to a shelter, and then into your home, is a lot. You think packing a U-Haul is stressful? Try being a cat whose entire environment has been replaced overnight.

Some cats will always be a little sensitive. Others just need time to settle into their new life. Either way, if you listen to their signals, they'll reward you with trust, love, and maybe even the occasional lap nap… as long as you remember to stop petting before the cactus sweater feeling sets in.

Give an overstimulated cat a chance!

In every city, there are heroes the world knows. We see their names splashed across headlines and their faces lighting u...
08/15/2025

In every city, there are heroes the world knows. We see their names splashed across headlines and their faces lighting up our television screens. And then, there are the ones who work in the shadows. They don't wear capes (those tend to get covered in fur), but you'll know them by their superpowers: compassion strong enough to comfort a grieving family, logic sharp enough to untangle the trickiest situations, and hearts big enough to welcome every creature who comes through our doors.

They are our Admissions team. They are the first faces a frightened animal sees. The first hands to cradle a scared pet. The first voices to comfort people carrying hope, heartbreak, or both.

If a good Samaritan finds a lost dog wandering the streets, they come to our Admissions team. If a family has to say goodbye to a pet they've loved for years, they come to our Admissions team. If someone has lost their best friend and is desperately searching, they come to our Admissions team.

They face every challenge, big or small, with their powers of problem-solving, empathy, and sheer determination. And every so often, they pull off something that feels a little like magic.

That's where Sirius comes in.

One day, Animal Law Enforcement brought in a dog found wandering alone. His name was Sirius, and though he didn't know it yet, his story was about to take a turn for the wonderful. Our superheroes sprang into action, processing him, photographing him, and giving him a safe place to rest. But they knew "stray" often means "someone's missing best friend."

So, they started their detective work.

They gathered every detail about him down to the white diamond marking on his forehead, and searched diligently through every lost pet report, until they found a perfect match.

Sirius's mom had filed a lost pet report with us 63 days earlier. Two whole months of searching. Two months of worrying, wondering, and hoping.

When they called her, joy and relief flooded the line. She raced to the shelter, and in the next heartbeat, Sirius was leaping into her arms, tail wagging like a victory flag.

But the mission wasn't over.

Our superheroes made sure Sirius left prepared for the future with a microchip, a license, and a mom who now had the tools to keep him safe and at home where he belonged.

Sirius is just one of 2,844 pets reunited with their families by our Admissions team this year. And while that number is impressive, their true impact in our community can't be measured by statistics. It's in the lives they've touched, the tears they've shared, and the hope they've restored.

They don't just bring animals into the shelter. They reunite families. They protect the bond between people and pets. They make our community stronger.

To our Admissions team, thank you for being the everyday heroes we need. Thank you for the hearts you share, the hope you carry, and the love you put back into the world. You make HSPPR more than a shelter; you make it a place where love finds its way home and where hope finds a new beginning.

ADOPTED 8/15It is a truth universally acknowledged (by me, at least) that socks are the greatest invention in the histor...
08/14/2025

ADOPTED 8/15

It is a truth universally acknowledged (by me, at least) that socks are the greatest invention in the history of forever. They’re warm, and soft, and smell like all sorts of interesting places, and they come in pairs, except when they don’t, which is mysterious. You can drag them across the floor like a small, soft parade. You can make them into tug-of-war ropes, or little pillows, or hats for your favorite chew toy. And, of course, you can eat them.

Now, before you start shaking your head and saying things like, “Oh no, Blondie, you shouldn’t eat socks,” let me just say: at the time, this felt like a very good idea. Possibly the best idea I’d ever had, and I’ve had some pretty good ones, like “chase my own tail” and “see if I can fit under the couch.” This sock was perfect: stripy, squishy, smelling faintly of adventure (and possibly lunch). I knew, in my heart, that I wanted it forever. And the best way to keep something forever is to put it in your tummy, where no one else can get it. Obviously.

So I ate it.

At first, it was marvelous. I felt like a sock queen, the proud owner of a sock empire. But after a little while, my tummy began making noises I had never heard before. Not happy noises, like “gurgle gurgle snack time,” but suspicious noises, like “you have made a terrible mistake.” My ears drooped. My tail stopped wagging. My zoomies slowed to a gentle wobble.

When I arrived at the shelter, I was feeling particularly terrible, like when your dinner is 7 minutes late, but way worse. Then the shelter’s vet team arrived, and they were very clever. They checked my tummy, and their eyes got big, and they said, in the most serious voice possible: “It’s a sock.”

I was shocked. My beloved sock! My dearest possession! The very thing I had chosen to keep forever… had betrayed me.

The vet team whisked me away to surgery. I took a very long nap, during which I dreamed of chasing butterflies made of cheese. When I woke up, there it was: my sock. Sitting on a table. Looking smug. I turned away. We were no longer on speaking terms.

Now, I feel terrific. My tummy is light and happy, my zoomies are restored to full velocity, and my tail is once again a small wind turbine of joy. The doctor says I am ready to find my new home. I am only two months old, which means I still have a great deal to learn, like how to walk nicely on a leash, how to sit when asked, and how to resist the siren song of the laundry basket.

I am looking for a person who will love me, teach me, and perhaps keep their socks in a hard-to-reach drawer. In return, I promise to love you even more than socks. And believe me… that is a very big promise.

Sonar just heard this Friday is our very last Happy Tails Happy Hour of the year, and she is NOT letting you miss it!Joi...
08/13/2025

Sonar just heard this Friday is our very last Happy Tails Happy Hour of the year, and she is NOT letting you miss it!

Join us August 15, from 5:00–8:00 PM at 3 Hundred Days of Shine, 3 Hundred Days Distilling, for one final summer toast to the goodest boys and girls in Colorado. 🥂

Here's the deal: for every drink you sip, $1 goes straight to HSPPR to help pets like Sonar find their new homes. And the bartenders are feeling extra fancy this week, so they're making us specialty pet-themed cocktails like:
🐕 The Greyhound
🐾 Colorado Bulldog
🐱 Meow-jito

So let's wag goodbye to the dog days of summer with a cocktail that would make even the poshest French poodle say, "Ooh la la."

Worried this is your last chance to clink glasses with your pup's water bowl? Fear not! Pawtoberfest is just around the corner on Saturday, September 13. Get your tickets today: https://secure.qgiv.com/event/pa202/

We can't wait to see you this Friday and raise a Meow-jito to a summer of helping animals find their happy tails!

Address

610 Abbot Lane
Colorado Springs, CO
80905

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:

Share

Category

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