Our Vision

Many of you know Frank, our fearless leader. If you’ve spent any time in Quartz Hill, chances are you’ve seen him—walking 10 miles a day, rain or shine, like clockwork. While most people take in the scenery, Frank started noticing something else during his walks: the heartbreaking lives of the stray cats and kittens that seem to be everywhere in the AV.

Meanwhile, I was bouncing between rescues, volunteering and fostering bottle babies with my daughter a few times a year. It was our way of giving back and showing these tiny lives some love—especially the ones others had already given up on. I tried for years to talk Frank into joining the rescue madness. His answer? A very firm “No.”

Why? Because, in his words: “I could never give them up after caring for them.”

(Valid, but also… challenge accepted.)

Then one day it happened.

I got The Call. The kind of call every rescue person lives for.

“Snapps,” Frank said, “There’s a kitten I need to save—like, right now, or she’s not going to make it.”

I flew into action like a cat chasing a laser pointer. When I got to the spot, we saw her—a tiny, grey kitten, crusted and scared, peeking from a backyard. She was in rough shape: matted fur, skin and bones, and mucus so bad her eyes were nearly sealed shut. We knocked on the door, explained the situation, and the kind homeowner gave us the go-ahead to try and catch her.

Long story short, we borrowed a trap (thanks to a neighbor who had recently accidentally trapped one of my cats—long story), set it, and waited.

Wrong cat.

Wrong cat again.

Then… jackpot. We had her.

She was far sicker than we’d realized—congested, dehydrated, and so weak. She needed help immediately.

So here came the moment of truth:

“Frank,” I said, “this one’s on you.”

I was heading out on vacation. Jodi was working full-time. And I already knew she was going to kill me for this. 😬

But Frank stepped up. I gave him a crash course in kitten care and sent him to the vet (pretty sure it was Quartz Hill Veterinary). And this man—who had never cleaned a litter box or given meds—was suddenly wiping crusty eyes, feeding by hand, and setting alarm clocks for round-the-clock care.

Now, every kitten needs a name. That’s a rule.

Frank thought long and hard, and in honor of his beloved grandmother, named her Lucy.

Weeks went by, and Lucy began to thrive. She grew stronger, friendlier, and ready for her furever family. I prepped Frank for the hardest part—letting go. But the second we met her future family, we just knew… they were meant for each other.

It was magic.

And then—those beautiful words:

“Snapps, I want to do this again.”

🎉 And just like that, The Frank and Lucy Project was born 🎉

Named after the first kitten saved, and the moment our hearts officially said we’re in.

Since then, we’ve brought Jodi into the chaos (she’s just as hooked), and together with all of you—our volunteers, neighbors, vets, rescue mentors, and supporters—we’ve built something truly beautiful.

We’re not just a rescue. We’re a family.

From that tiny grey kitten to the hundreds (and counting!) we’ve saved since—thank you for being part of our journey, and for helping us create a world where every kitty has a name, a story, and someone to fight for them.

With love and cat hair everywhere,

The Frank and Lucy Project 💛🐾