Cat Adoptions @Cats4adoption - Twitter Profile

Cat Adoptions @Cats4adoption

3 days ago

Check out THESUCCESSMINDS's video! #TikTok https://t.co/QBhPbOYxkG

0

7

Cat Adoptions @Cats4adoption

5 months ago

Help Axel Walk Again — donate or share his story. https://t.co/InrdME39jd

0

8

Cat Adoptions @Cats4adoption

6 months ago

https://t.co/J8nndfG6LY

0

70

Cat Adoptions @Cats4adoption

7 months ago

https://t.co/VM9uHkeQQe

0

13

Who to follow

LoveT

@LoveT72816470

Love watching Netflix! Mother of two beautiful girls and a loving wife to my husband.

MARCI ELAINE

@MissMarciElaine

❤️ LIVING AS A STRONG ENFEMME LADY. EMBRACING MY OWN Enlightenment! #ENRICHINGTHEBONDSOFENLIGHTENMENT #ETBOE

Tahitia Palmer

@TPalmwr

Cats4adoption retweeted

Mr PitBull Stories

@MrPitbull07

8 months ago

"My name's Raymond. I'm 73. I work the parking lot at St. Joseph's Hospital. Minimum wage, orange vest, a whistle I barely use. Most people don't even look at me. I'm just the old man waving cars into spaces. But I see everything. Like the black sedan that circled the lot every morning at 6 a.m. for three weeks. Young man driving, grandmother in the passenger seat. Chemotherapy, I figured. He'd drop her at the entrance, then spend 20 minutes hunting for parking, missing her appointments. One morning, I stopped him. "What time tomorrow?" "6:15," he said, confused. "Space A-7 will be empty. I'll save it." He blinked. "You... you can do that?" "I can now," I said. Next morning, I stood in A-7, holding my ground as cars circled angrily. When his sedan pulled up, I moved. He rolled down his window, speechless. "Why?" "Because she needs you in there with her," I said. "Not out here stressing." He cried. Right there in the parking lot. Word spread quietly. A father with a sick baby asked if I could help. A woman visiting her dying husband. I started arriving at 5 a.m., notebook in hand, tracking who needed what. Saved spots became sacred. People stopped honking. They waited. Because they knew someone else was fighting something bigger than traffic. But here's what changed everything, A businessman in a Mercedes screamed at me one morning. "I'm not sick! I need that spot for a meeting!" "Then walk," I said calmly. "That space is for someone whose hands are shaking too hard to grip a steering wheel." He sped off, furious. But a woman behind him got out of her car and hugged me. "My son has leukemia," she sobbed. "Thank you for seeing us." The hospital tried to stop me. "Liability issues," they said. But then families started writing letters. Dozens. "Raymond made the worst days bearable." "He gave us one less thing to break over." Last month, they made it official. "Reserved Parking for Families in Crisis." Ten spots, marked with blue signs. And they asked me to manage it. But the best part? A man I'd helped two years ago, his mother survived, came back. He's a carpenter. Built a small wooden box, mounted it by the reserved spaces. Inside? Prayer cards, tissues, breath mints, and a note, "Take what you need. You're not alone. -Raymond & Friends" People leave things now. Granola bars. Phone chargers. Yesterday, someone left a hand-knitted blanket. I'm 73. I direct traffic in a hospital parking lot. But I've learned this: Healing doesn't just happen in operating rooms. Sometimes it starts in a parking space. When someone says, "I see your crisis. Let me carry this one small piece." So pay attention. At the grocery checkout, the coffee line, wherever you are. Someone's drowning in the little things while fighting the big ones. Hold a door. Save a spot. Carry the weight no one else sees. It's not glamorous. But it's everything." Let this story reach more hearts.... Credit: Mary Nelson

MrPitbull07's tweet photo. "My name's Raymond. I'm 73. I work the parking lot at St. Joseph's Hospital. Minimum wage, orange vest, a whistle I barely use. Most people don't even look at me. I'm just the old man waving cars into spaces.
But I see everything.

Like the black sedan that circled the lot every morning at 6 a.m. for three weeks. Young man driving, grandmother in the passenger seat. Chemotherapy, I figured. He'd drop her at the entrance, then spend 20 minutes hunting for parking, missing her appointments.

One morning, I stopped him. "What time tomorrow?"
"6:15," he said, confused.
"Space A-7 will be empty. I'll save it."
He blinked. "You... you can do that?"
"I can now," I said.

Next morning, I stood in A-7, holding my ground as cars circled angrily. When his sedan pulled up, I moved. He rolled down his window, speechless. "Why?"
"Because she needs you in there with her," I said. "Not out here stressing."
He cried. Right there in the parking lot.

Word spread quietly. A father with a sick baby asked if I could help. A woman visiting her dying husband. I started arriving at 5 a.m., notebook in hand, tracking who needed what. Saved spots became sacred. People stopped honking. They waited. Because they knew someone else was fighting something bigger than traffic.
But here's what changed everything, A businessman in a Mercedes screamed at me one morning. "I'm not sick! I need that spot for a meeting!"

"Then walk," I said calmly. "That space is for someone whose hands are shaking too hard to grip a steering wheel."

He sped off, furious. But a woman behind him got out of her car and hugged me. "My son has leukemia," she sobbed. "Thank you for seeing us."

The hospital tried to stop me. "Liability issues," they said. But then families started writing letters. Dozens. "Raymond made the worst days bearable." "He gave us one less thing to break over."

Last month, they made it official. "Reserved Parking for Families in Crisis." Ten spots, marked with blue signs. And they asked me to manage it.

But the best part? A man I'd helped two years ago, his mother survived, came back. He's a carpenter. Built a small wooden box, mounted it by the reserved spaces. Inside? Prayer cards, tissues, breath mints, and a note,

"Take what you need. You're not alone. -Raymond & Friends"
People leave things now. Granola bars. Phone chargers. Yesterday, someone left a hand-knitted blanket.
I'm 73. I direct traffic in a hospital parking lot. But I've learned this: Healing doesn't just happen in operating rooms. Sometimes it starts in a parking space. When someone says, "I see your crisis. Let me carry this one small piece."

So pay attention. At the grocery checkout, the coffee line, wherever you are. Someone's drowning in the little things while fighting the big ones.

Hold a door. Save a spot. Carry the weight no one else sees.
It's not glamorous. But it's everything."

Let this story reach more hearts....

Credit: Mary Nelson

4K

137K

29K

9K

7M

Cat Adoptions @Cats4adoption

about 1 year ago

@IAmSteveHarvey ❤️

0

17

Cats4adoption retweeted

Brian Krassenstein

@krassenstein

over 1 year ago

BREAKING: Massive protest in New York City just now. I don’t remember a single protest this large against Joe Biden. We now have had protests like this for weeks all across the nation. People see Trump as a danger to our democracy.

6K

61K

12K

1K

2M

Cat Adoptions @Cats4adoption

over 1 year ago

@LeadingReport Idiots

0

13

Cats4adoption retweeted

Eli the Bee Guy

@ElitheBeeGuy1

over 1 year ago

For Bee Rescue Service, Call: 626-487-6052 Massive Grand Beehive, 1 Year Old! Finished up a massive bee removal! This hive had been building up for over a year, with nearly 150 pounds of dense honey but very little brood. The bees found their way in through a small gap, so I had to cut through plywood to reach them. Once it was open, I realized the hive was way bigger than expected! After a full day of work, the wall is completely cleared, and the bees are safely relocated. One for the books! #videos #Reels #TwitterBlue #honey #socal #southerncalifornia #SaveTheBees #nature #honeybee #savetheplanet #beekeeping