Gabriele Corno
@Gabriele_Corno • 364,357 subscribers
Life is like Alice's White Rabbit. He runs away and does not grab anything, but this is not important:what matters is to keep on pursuing him. #Animals
Shorts
Videos
This is the story of a bond between a moose and the pregnant woman; a bond that held meaning.
Gabriele Corno1,000,428 views • 2 days ago
A mountain lion passed out in this man's garage, and he felt compelled to do something...
Gabriele Corno839,082 views • 5 days ago
They've been together all their lives; now he can't walk, but she continues to take care of him.
Gabriele Corno13,439,414 views • 2 months ago
This was recorded last Thursday morning at SPCA in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. The man is Gerald. He's 81 years old. He came in at 9:15 AM, right when the shelter opened. He had a tan Beagle on a worn leather leash. The dog's name is Otto. He's eight years old. Gerald and Otto have been together for seven years. Otto was a one-year-old shelter dog when Gerald's late wife Eleanor suggested they go for a drive one afternoon and ended up at the Lancaster County shelter. Eleanor picked Otto. Gerald said he was too energetic. Within three months, Gerald admitted he was wrong. Otto had been Gerald's constant companion since Eleanor passed away four years ago. Through the quiet mornings. Through the hard evenings. Through every slow walk around the neighborhood that gave Gerald's days a beginning and an end. Gerald's son Robert had been working for months on finding Gerald a place at Willow Valley Communities — a well-regarded facility twenty minutes from Robert's house. Gerald had resisted at first. Then a small health concern last fall made the conversation more urgent. Gerald agreed in December. Millstream was the right choice. Gerald knew it. Robert knew it Willow Valley didn't allow pets. Robert had searched for solutions. Family friends. Neighbors. His own home — but his wife had a serious allergy. He'd reached out to three different rescue organizations about finding Otto a good placement. Nothing had come together in time. Gerald had made the appointment at Pinewood himself. He didn't tell Robert until the morning of. Robert offered to come. Gerald said he needed to do it alone. He arrived at 9:15 with Otto on the worn leather leash and a paper bag with Otto's food, his two favorite toys, and a handwritten care sheet Gerald had spent two evenings writing - Otto's schedule, his preferences, the way he liked to sleep, the fact that he was nervous around loud trucks, the fact that he liked to sit on the left side of whoever he was with. The intake coordinator, a young man named Philip, took the paper bag carefully. The security footage shows Gerald standing at the intake desk. His shoulders are rounded forward. He's filling out the forms with his head down. Otto sits at his feet. Calm. Tail doing a slow, easy wag. Looking up at Gerald with the complete comfortable trust of a dog who has been on dozens of errands with this man and knows they always go back home together. Otto nudges Gerald's hand with his nose. Gerald doesn't look down. Otto nudges again, then rests his chin on Gerald's shoe. Gerald finishes the last form. Sets the pen down. Then he turns and crouches — slowly, with the careful movement of a man whose knees have earned the right to take their time — and takes Otto's face gently in both hands. He presses his forehead against Otto's. Stays there. Otto's tail wags. He doesn't pull away. He just sits there with his face in Gerald's hands, calm and trusting, tail going softly. Gerald stays for a long time. Then he stands. Hands the leash to Philip. Turns toward the door. He doesn't look back. Philip stood at the desk for a moment holding the leash. Otto was still looking toward the door. Philip told us later: "Otto had no idea. He was completely relaxed the whole time. I kept watching his face and he just looked like he was waiting for Gerald to finish up so they could leave together. He trusted Gerald completely. Completely." He paused. "That's the part that stays with me. Otto had no idea. And Gerald knew everything. And he still did it right. He did it gently and he did it because he loved Otto enough to make sure he was cared for." Robert called that afternoon. He's working with them on finding a permanent home for Otto. He said he told Gerald that evening how the drop-off had gone. Gerald didn't say anything for a moment. Then he asked if Otto had eaten his dinner. Philip had already left a note in the file. ( continued at first comment )
Gabriele Corno3,305,292 views • 1 month ago
Python Kidnaps Piglet! Brave Moles Rescue with a Giant Rock
Gabriele Corno19,856,713 views • 6 months ago
A mother deer gave birth in this yard... and then walked away.
Gabriele Corno4,338,533 views • 2 months ago
I thought he was just waiting for his owner to come back from the bathroom. But after waiting for over an hour and seeing that empty water bowl, I realized no one was coming back for him. He was shaking so hard when I first walked up, but he just needed to know he wasn't alone anymore. I couldn't just leave him tied to a tree in the dark and now is with us
Gabriele Corno60,645 views • 1 day ago
Margaret hadn't slept through the night in eight years. Army. Four deployments. PTSD nightmares every single night without exception. Her therapist had recommended a specialized detection dog. Cost quoted: $38,000. Waitlist: two and a half years. She adopted Rex instead. A three-year-old Lab. Returned twice. Previous owners complained he "reacted to nothing" and "wouldn't settle." First night home, Rex jumped on her chest before a single nightmare developed. Her therapist later reviewed the camera footage and said: "Rex is responding to micro-signals most trained dogs never before a single nightmare developed. Her therapist later reviewed the camera footage and said: "Rex is responding to micro-signals most trained dogs never catch. That's not a problem dog. That's a remarkable one." The thing that made him unwanted was exactly the thing she nedeed
Gabriele Corno2,656,775 views • 1 month ago
Margaret, 90, had gotten outside twice before her son Keith installed cameras. He expected to find footage of the problem. He found something else. Every single night for nine months their golden retriever Flynn had already been at the front door before Margaret reached the hallway. Blocking. Redirecting. Taking her sleeve and guiding her back to bed. Thirty-seven documented nights. Not once had she made it outside. Margaret's neurologist watched the recording and said: "I have worked in memory care for twenty-three years. Flynn is performing structured redirection. He built every component of it on his own." Keith said: "He figured it out the first night."
Gabriele Corno2,740,651 views • 2 months ago
Miracle in the Savannah The golden sun dipped below the horizon of the vast African savannah, painting the sky in shades of amber and violet. An explorer, also a compassionate wildlife vet, was finishing his evening patrol near the edge of the reserve when a faint, desperate squeak caught his attention near a solitary acacia tree. Stepping out of his jeep, he carefully approached the sound. Hidden in the tall, dry grass lay a tiny newborn cheetah. The mother was nowhere to be seen—she had moved her litter, leaving this helpless cub behind. The reason was heartbreakingly clear: the little one was born dangerously premature. Instead of the thick, grayish mantle of fur typical for cheetah cubs, its skin was pink, wrinkled, and almost completely hairless. In the harsh wild, a hairless cub could not regulate its body temperature, and nature had forced the mother to make a cruel, instinctual choice. This man a deep surge of sympathy. "Hang in there, little buddy," he whispered softly, gently scooping up the fragile, shivering creat and wrapping it in his warm flannel jacket. He rushed the cub back to his field sanctuary, fully aware of how low the odds were. Premature, hairless big cats rarely survived without maternal warmth. But thus man was determined to give it every fighting chance. He converted a quiet corner of his clinic into a cozy nursery, setting up heat lamps and layering it with soft fleece blankets. For weeks, vet. Every two hours, day and night, he hand-ted the cub tiny drops of specialized milk formula using a small syringe. He monitored every breath, gently rubbed its tiny body to stimulate circulation, and spent countless hours holding the cub against his chest so it could feel warm skin and hear a steady heartbeat. Slowly, the impossible began to happen. Nurtured by this explorer wholehearted love and round-the-clock care, the tiny cub began to thrive.
Gabriele Corno829,432 views • 27 days ago
