Welcome | UFA | Fosters | Rules | How to Apply | FAQ | The Story of PPR | ||||||||
There are a million reasons why a pet can end up in the Pound. Some pets get saddled with an ugly name and are abandoned over a hypen or a few trailing numbers. Some are an unspectacular basic color and therefore 'expendable'. Some are simply impulse creations in an unpopular species, thrown to the curb once their owner finds something prettier. For these pets, the pound could be the end of the line. But that's where we step in. My name is Pixie the Zafara, and I'm in charge of helping dead-end pets find a new future. Come on in and see if your dream pet is waiting for you!
Up for AdoptionNone right now!
Current FostersWe zap our fosters with the lab ray to change them into beautiful colors. If you'd like to adopt a foster while they're being zapped, neomail Pikadopt right away so we know to stop zapping them! We can do Magma coloring. If you want one of the fosters as a Magma pet, send a neomail and we'll stop zapping them and give you time to apply as you would normally.
Rules
How to Apply
Pet you're applying for:
Your accounts: (List all of them) Which account will you put the pet on? When do you have a transfer available? What do you plan to do with this pet?(Stories? Art? Customization? Battledome? if you want to share planned stories/designs, limit them to ONE drawing or one 500-word-or-less story) Link some of your pets that are good examples of how you'll treat this pet: What do you enjoy about Neopets? What do you do on the site? Any other remarks? Neomail being evil? You can put this form on a blank petpage and send me the link. You should do this if your application gets more than three Neomails long. Once I get your application, I'll Neomail you back to confirm that I got it and that it's acceptable. After that, just sit tight until the application deadline. How to know if you got the pet? It takes me a few days to choose an owner after the app deadline. If you got the pet, I'll Neomail you. After the owner is chosen and Neomailed, I'll post an update here. It's up to you to check the agency regularly to see the status of the pet you applied for!
Amusing screenshotsThose are the worst excuses I've ever heard, you two.
Frequently Asked QuestionsCan I apply to trade? How can I impress you in my application?
What should I avoid in my application?
Do you favor artists? Do you prefer petpage apps? Your application process is so limiting! How can I show you how well I'll treat this pet without a fancy app? Does the petpet come with the pet? Can I put the pet I'm applying for on a side? I've been playing Neopets for less than four months. Can I apply? I want to put the pet on an account that's under 4 months old. Will you wait for it to age? Can I repaint/morph/change genders? I got a pet from you, but I don't want it any more/I'm quitting. What should I do with it? I also foster pets/I'd like to help out at PPR! Can we work together?
The Story of PPRTo conclude this page, my owner suggested that I tell you the story of how this adoption agency came to be. In order to understand PPR, you have to understand where I came from. I'm not a wonderful speech-giver, but I hope I can help you see the spirit behind this place. I came into existence as a female green Zafara, created by a brand new Neopets user. She was excited about Neopets because all her friends were into it. At first, she was around all the time, bubbly and enthusiastic and full of dreams. I enjoyed the company of her and her friends, even if her peppy personality was a little hard to stomach in large doses. But after a while, she started to realize how much she'd have to grind and save to get the Draik Eggs and rare Paint Brushes she wanted. The novelty started to wear off. Her friends moved on to other fads, and she began to drift away with them. Eventually, she stopped showing up at all. I should be glad that she remembered me long enough to put me in the pound before she left Neopia forever. Not all pets get that privilege. The PoundI'm not sure what it was about me that made me look like a good confidant. Maybe pets mistook my quietness for some sort of internal strength that they could lean on. Maybe the way I kept my fears to myself made them think that I had none at all. But for whatever reason, almost as soon as I had been assigned a cage, my fellow poundmates flocked to me like chicks gathering under a mother hen's wings. Pets I'd only known for minutes spilled their fears and broken dreams to me and looked to me for guidance and assurance, even though I was as clueless and scared they were. At first, I blundered blindly through the maternal role everyone suddenly demanded of me. My attempts were awkward at best and agonizing at worst. But as the weeks passed and I settled into the rhythm of pound life, I slowly learned how to be a good mother to my hundreds of adopted children. I helped young, fearful pets adjust during the first few days--the first days were always the hardest. I answered questions to the best of my knowledge; I listened to pets who desperately needed someone to understand how they felt. I was sure I was doing it wrong, but I had to try. I don't know what they saw in me. I was never any good at inspiring speeches or touching consolation. I just told the facts how they were and gave an ear when it was needed. But it was obvious they saw something, because my reputation somehow started to grow and spread among the pound. When we had room switches, I would often find myself housed with pets who were honored to finally meet the green Zafara who had been so kind to their friends. Did I ever grow to like my new role? I can't answer that even now. It wasn't so much a preference as a duty. These pets were alone and scared and needed someone, anyone to look up to. And nobody else rose to take the job. I wasn't cut out for it, not in a million years. But I was all they had. And, you know, when my meager efforts could help a pet face the day with a smile on their face, it was all worth it. The FriendAround the one-month mark, I met Flicker, a red Kougra. His real name was an unpronounceable mess of numbers, but he'd always wanted to be painted Fire, so he gave himself an appropriate nickname and it stuck. We were cagemates twice; once, during my first month at the pound, and then again around four months in. He was quiet, and rarely spoke to other pets. I mention him because, out of all the other pets I knew, he was the only one who remembered that even mothers need a shoulder to lean on. I was used to being the solid rock, never betraying fear or sadness, always being strong for the ones that needed me. But somehow, he saw through my bluffs and calm smiles to reveal the very ordinary, very scared pet inside. He talked with me during the long hours of the night when I couldn't sleep no matter how hard I tried. He coaxed out my boring stories and embarassing hopes and dark fears and listened to me with more sincerity then I ever thought existed. He was an old pet; he'd been adopted a few times in his youth, but always found himself back at the pound within days. His last adoption had been years ago. We both knew he had little hope of a real home, not with his trainwreck of a name. If anyone had earned the right to seek consolation, it was him. But he never, not once, asked me to play the role of mother for him. The other pets were my children, but he was my only friend. The AdoptionI was well into my sixth month at the pound when I gazed dully up at yet another owner stopped by my cage--and realized I recognized her. It took me a while to place her face, but I finally remembered that she was one of the friends that my old owner hung out with. From the shocked look on her face, it seemed that she remembered me as well. She asked me if I'd been in the pound ever since her friend had abandoned me. I replied yes. She left not long after that. I was about to write off the whole experience as an interesting oddity when pound workers suddenly whisked me out of my cage and steered me down the hallway towards the fabled paperwork desks. I was being adopted. I remember digging my heels in as I was led between the rows of cages, trying to buy enough time to shout quick goodbyes to everyone I knew. I was surprised at how many faces I recognized peering from the bars, even though I'd only spent six months there. It was obvious that my old owner's friend adopted me only out of guilty pity, but I didn't mind. My new owner didn't pressure me to get to know her pets or join the group. I treated her and her pets politely but impersonally and we fell into a predictable routine. For the first few days, I was intoxicated by the sheer hugeness of the outside world. Every mundane flower on the side of the road made me break out into a silly grin. I expected to feel a great weight off my shoulders now that I didn't have to be a 'mother'. It had been an exhausting and harrowing role to play. I dabbled in different hobbies, trying to find something to fill the void. But I couldn't forget my time at the pound. I remembered the tearful thank you's and the nights spent with lonely kids curled up against my side. I remembered the eyes I brightened and the smiles I coaxed out. And most of all, I remembered Flicker, the friend I left behind, who never gave up even when he knew he would never see life outside of a cage. Sure, I hadn't expected the role I took, and sure, I never felt like I could live up to what was expected of me. But even with all my bumbling ineptitude, I'd managed to give hope in a place where there was no hope. I'd become a mother, and no inane hobby could replace the duty I had to all the children I left behind in that pound. They needed me. I wasn't about to ask my owner to re-pound me so I could be with them again--I'm not that selfless. But I had to do something--anything--to help them. |
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The AgencyIt took many weeks of planning. I presented a carefully laid-out proposal to my owner, expecting to do a lot of pleading and convincing, but surprisingly, she offered her full support almost as soon as I opened my mouth. I was ecstatic that she seemed to be as enthusiastic about the idea as I was. After many months of saved Neopoints and Secret Laboratory hunting, Pixie Pound Rescues was finally born. A small organization, taking pets one-by-one from the pound and giving them new lives. It's a meager effort. It can never hope to reach even a fraction of the thousands of unwanted pets spending their lives in the pound. But every smile we bring to a Neopet walking home with its new owner is a smile that wouldn't have been there otherwise. It's a small difference, but it's a difference. EpilogueFlicker, this adoption agency is dedicated to you. If you're reading this, somehow... I'm sorry. I'm sorry I can't remember the garble of numbers that is your real name. I'm sorry that I left you behind. I search for you whenever I visit the pound, but nobody seems to remember the solitary red Kougra I once had as a cagemate. I hope beyond hope that the reason I can't find you is because you've already been adopted, that your last days weren't spent looking out behind bars. If you're still sitting in that pound, waiting, know that I've never forgotten you and I'll never stop searching for you. You're my friend forever. A note from Danke: Pixieroo's story is based off true events. She used to belong to my friend, who went inactive soon after joining Neopets. One day, I searched the name of my friend's old pet to see how she was doing and saw that she was still in the pound where my friend had left her. Pixie was abandoned in the pound about two days after being created, and I adopted her six months later. She's been the mascot of Pixie Pound Rescue ever since. |