Many years ago, a dear friend told me about a local no-kill cat shelter. She had made arrangements with them to care for her cats after her death and even included them in her will—long before pet trusts became widely known. I admired that. At the time, I had a beloved cat of my own but no plan in place for his future. I naïvely assumed a friend or relative would step in. I didn’t realize how often that assumption proves heartbreakingly wrong.

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Curious, I visited the shelter my friend mentioned. It was a good place with caring people and many cats. But I immediately knew it wouldn’t be right for my own cat. He was older, disliked other cats, and wasn’t friendly with strangers. While I adored him, I couldn’t imagine anyone choosing to adopt him over the many sweet, younger cats. The idea of him living out his life frightened and caged—or worse, being overlooked or mishandled—was deeply upsetting.

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Still, I admired the work being done and began supporting them. Later on, I even became a volunteer. Over time, I saw how often cats like mine—elderly, deeply bonded to one person, or harder to place—struggled in shelter environments. I also became aware of another tragic reality: many devoted cat owners facing terminal illness or sudden incapacity had no trusted person to take over their pet’s care. Most shelters were already at capacity, and sadly, older or less adoptable cats were often turned away or euthanized before their time. The people trying to do right by their cats often had no good options.

 

It felt deeply unfair. These were not irresponsible pet owners—they were the most responsible. They just needed help. And I kept asking myself, Why isn’t there a special place for cats who are more like orphans than strays? A home, not a shelter. A place that helps humans as much as their cats. Why doesn’t it exist? Eventually, I asked a better question: Why not create one?

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By then, my original cat had passed away, but I had new ones I loved just as much—and I still hadn’t made a plan for them. So I decided to change that. If I couldn’t find the right place, I would build it. It wasn’t easy. It took support, resources, and a great deal of time. But in 2013, Hearts That Purr Feline Guardians officially became a nonprofit organization. Since then, through donations, volunteers, private foster homes, and a spacious sanctuary home situated on over 8 beautiful desert acres in the foothills of Tucson, Arizona, we have made a dream into reality for countless senior cats...an often those who have loved them.

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Our first rescues were two elderly cats, Sam and Sal, whose 99-year-old guardian had passed away. Their story, which you may read about through the link below, set the tone for our mission. Since then, we’ve grown slowly but meaningfully, always focused on quality of care and dignity of life. We strive to complement the amazing work done by other rescue groups, filling a vital gap for a specific group of cats—the elder felines left behind not through neglect, but through the tragic loss of their beloved human guardian.

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I hope our success inspires others to start niche rescues like ours. Together, we can move closer to a world where no cat is homeless and no beloved companion is left behind simply because their human couldn’t continue to care for them.

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     If you share this belief, please consider supporting us:

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• Donate

• Volunteer

• Foster

• Adopt

• Follow us on social media

• Spread the word about Hearts That Purr and the importance
  of planning for a pet’s future care.​

• Make a formal plan for your own pet's care.

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Together, we can ensure that your love lasts for

your pet’s lifetime—not just yours.

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Sincerely,

Jeanmarie Schiller-McGinnis, Founder and President