A to Z Animal Rescue saves dogs, cats, birds and more

MOUNT CARMEL — Kendra Hall has been rescuing animals all her life. She'd constantly bring them home as a child. When she found snake eggs, she made an incubator and hatched them. When she found a nearly frozen baby lizard, she saved it. "My parents were ready to kill me," Hall said. But no matter how many animals she brought home, her parents made room for them. They'd reward her good behavior at the doctor or dentist with a trip to the pet store. "Most kids were playing with video games. We didn't do that. I got encyclopedias on animals," Hall said. She'd catch a bug, learn everything she could about it, and then let it go. As a teenager, Hall would spend time at the racetrack in Rogersville. Every weekend, she'd find animals wandering around. "I would see all these stray animals when I was a kid, and it just broke my heart," Hall said. So, she attended a veterinary technician school and decided to start an animal rescue. Initially, the rescue was just for dogs and cats. But as Hall saw the local need to help livestock, special-needs animals and more, she expanded. Hall started the nonprofit A to Z Animal Rescue seven years ago. "We do anything. Fish, lizards, birds, horses, goats, foxes — it doesn't matter," Hall said. "If it fits in the alphabet, we'll try to help." Situated on five acres in Mount Carmel — which was just a field, until Hall began developing it — the rescue has a house and several enclosures for around 100 animals. When you step into the main house, you're greeted with several barks. There's a fish tank by the door, cats mulling about and a sign that reads: "Welcome, it's basically a zoo in here." There are usually two dozen dogs at the rescue, Hall said, and at least 20 cats. They lay on the couch, chase toys, beg for treats. Hall doesn't like small cages. She separates the animals who aren't spayed or neutered, and lets the rest roam. "If they get along, why would I want them in a cage when they can have a whole room?" Hall said. Further into the living room, there's a bearded dragon in a glass tank who struggles to walk. Next to him, motherless puppies who still need to be nursed — called "bottle babies" — cuddle in their pen. Hall said she takes care of a lot of bottle babies; last year, she had over 100 across three months. A tortoise named Joe sits in the bathroom, his outdoor enclosure too snowy. He was a family's pet for several years. They surrendered Joe when a family member fell ill and he kept tangling in the medical equipment. The kitchen is home to Phoenix the 20-something-year-old parrot, who will impatiently ring a bell until she's fed Little Debbie Strawberry Shortcake Mini Muffins. When she lifts her wings, she exposes her naked body; Phoenix has plucked herself clean of feathers. Hall said about half of her animals are pet surrenders from people who can't take care of them — maybe due to old age or illness. Some are victims of neglect. Many have special needs, making them difficult to rehome. A lot were slated to be euthanized by over-capacity shelters. This past Wednesday, Hall and her friend, Dennis Gibbons, drove to Knoxville to pick up 14 dogs from a Memphis kill shelter. They met the hand-off lady a little before 2 a.m. Two hours later, they were back at the rescue with eight-week-old puppies, their three-legged mother and others. The pair cleaned the house, took care of the animals and went to bed. At 8 a.m., it started all over again. One of the dogs from Memphis already has a new home lined up with a friend of Hall. "They were going to euthanize her," Hall said. "And now she's going to a forever home." Animals usually stay at the rescue for a few weeks as Hall gets them whatever medical attention they need. Once they're healthy and potty-trained — and spayed or neutered — they go up for adoption. In the meantime, Hall likes to teach the dogs tricks. The animals that don't get adopted stay with Hall. Her four-year-old daughter, Aspyn, gets the honor of naming the rescues. There's an orange cat named Orange Slices, a black-and-white one named Oreo, another named Cutie Pie. Aspyn's favorite cats are Frosty, who is silver-gray with brown extremities, and the calico Princess. In the front yard, Joe the tortoise's pond is frozen over in the February cold. Next to it are chickens, pigeons and a porcupine — the latter is previously known for terrorizing the residents of Mount Carmel. Porcu-Lion, named for the roaring sound of his rattling tail quills, got loose from his previous owner. For several months, he wandered the area. Gibbons said he ate people's Halloween pumpkins off their porches. Hall and Gibbons captured Porcu-Lion in December and brought him to the rescue. When it's warmer, Hall said, they'll build him a big enclosure. In the backyard, two foxes, one silver and one black, yip like dogs. "One is a rescue. A girl bought it without [the necessary] license. She was afraid she'd get in trouble, so she sent it to us," Hall said. "Then we had to get a license — and get the fox a friend." Nearby, goats, turkeys and donkeys nose up to a fence at the arrival of Hall, Gibbons and Aspyn. "People get them and don't realize what they require," Hall said. So, they come to the rescue. Other animals were going to be eaten, or otherwise killed. Hall buys them from auctions. The horses, in their own pasture overlooking Hall's childhood home, have similar stories. They aren't prized stallions or mares, so people don't want to pay for their upkeep. The rescue goes through 300 pounds of sweet feed, 100 pounds of corn, a bale of hay, 250 pounds of dog food and 100 pounds of dry cat food a week. "We probably spend $400, $500 a week on food," Hall said. "That's not counting vet bills and everything else they have." The community supports the rescue by donating food, money and time. The rescue gives back to the community not only by rehoming strays and pets, but by helping people with their own animals. Hall said she gets phone calls all day. When it's warm, the rescue hosts events with pony rides, petting zoos, bounce houses and more. Even on normal days, there are visitors who want to see the animals. Hall said it's the hang-out spot for neighborhood kids. "There's no peace, no quiet. But we love it," she said. "We wouldn't trade it for anything. I'd be lost without helping an animal."