Latest news with #Shayla
Newsweek
05-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Newsweek
Great Pyrenees Mix Obsessed With Pool Since Adoption Wins Pet of the Week
Based on facts, either observed and verified firsthand by the reporter, or reported and verified from knowledgeable sources. Newsweek AI is in beta. Translations may contain inaccuracies—please refer to the original content. Another week of pet videos gracing timelines—including a paralyzed dachshund attempting to run with his doggy sibling and a cat's reaction to her new home in a new country—melted our hearts. But the week wouldn't be complete without the latest winner and finalists for this week's Pet of the Week line-up from our own Newsweek readers. Be sure to follow the instructions at the end of the story to submit your pet to be in the running. Winner Screenshots from a reader video of her six-month-old Great Pyrenees and Saint Bernard mix swimming in the pool. Screenshots from a reader video of her six-month-old Great Pyrenees and Saint Bernard mix swimming in the pool. Ashli Guglielmo This week's Pet of the Week winner can't keep her paws dry. From the moment her family rescued her, Bella has been a water dog. Owner Ashli Guglielmo told Newsweek that since the family brought home Bella, the Great Pyrenees and Saint Bernard mix, she's been obsessed with the pool. She was 9 weeks old when she was adopted, and on that same day, she jumped straight into the water. There had been a few swimming scares before she finally learned to get herself to safety. And now, it's a nonstop pool party with Bella. "Now at just 6 months, she is in the pool every single day just doing her doggy paddling, which we find absolutely precious," Guglielmo said. "We just wish she could teach her three Great Pyrenees brothers how to follow in her footsteps!" Finalists Photos of an owner's two rescue dogs, Shayla (left) and Tayen (right). Photos of an owner's two rescue dogs, Shayla (left) and Tayen (right). Chelly Bolger Wathen Our first finalists for this week are Shayla and Tayen, two rescue dogs Chelly Bolger Wathen and her husband adopted from a Ukrainian orphanage and an Arizona humane society focused on rescuing abandoned and stray animals from the Navajo reservation. The canines went from being unwanted strays to a forever home. The couple adopted Shayla, a shepherd and wolfdog mix, about five years ago, she told Newsweek via email. They learned she lived in Ukraine, but a volunteer with Amazing Strays Foundation helped bring her to the United States with several other dogs. Shayla became her "muse" for writing children's books. "I love that Shayla goes to bookfairs and events, even at a college, with me and delights people of all ages, especially kids," she said. Then, this past November, they welcomed home Tayen after a previous dog passed. The couple wanted Shayla to have another friend. The two dogs are now "best buddies," with Tayen being the family comedian and Shayla enjoying the youthful playfulness. Photo of a Husky named Chakota hanging out the car window, enjoying the breeze. Photo of a Husky named Chakota hanging out the car window, enjoying the breeze. Courtesy of the Smalls Next up is Chakota, a dog who helped a grieving partner through the loss of his wife in 2022. The couple brought home Chakota in 2016 when the pup was only 5 weeks old. The couple loved spending time with Chakota up until 2022, when tragedy struck. Karin Small passed from cancer. Chakota stepped up big, lending himself to be a rock for Karin's partner. "Now, I have Chakota and a cat," he said. "Chakota is my buddy. I take him just about everywhere I is never very far from my side." Photos of an 11-week-old French Bulldog puppy named Boswellia, who the owner calls a "firecracker." Photos of an 11-week-old French Bulldog puppy named Boswellia, who the owner calls a "firecracker." Nika SessionReed Last but not least, we have an 11-week-old French Bulldog puppy named Boswellia with owner Nika SessionReed, who recently welcomed her home. Her son went to the breeder to pick up Boswellia; however, he accidentally grabbed the wrong sex. The family originally wanted a male, SessionReed told Newsweek via email. But after already meeting her and "falling head over hills for her," SessionReed couldn't imagine switching her out. "I asked [the breeder] to keep her, and it's been Heaven Sent from there on," she said. "Having Boswellia has its challenging moments due to my job, which by the way I work on dredges and big ships, so I travel A LOT from state to state. It has been amazing having her with me because I am away on different projects and away from my family 4-5 months at a time, so having Boswellia with me is definitely a great thing because just like she needs me, I need her as well." Her favorite thing about Boswellia is that she's a "little fireball." She's fierce and comes with spunk. Her giant eyes make you instantly melt. If you think your pet could be next week's Newsweek "Pet of the Week," send us your funny and heartwarming videos and pictures of your pet, along with a bit about them to life@ and they could appear in our "Pet of the Week" lineup.
News.com.au
31-05-2025
- Business
- News.com.au
Werribee family's almost $200k Amazon thanks to cat
A Werribee home sale that had even the auctioneer nervous by the halfway mark, has gone on to raise the home's price almost $200,000 in fewer than two years. And a homemade cat run for their pet Ziggy was a big part of the success. Josh Palmer and his partner Shayla were 'pretty nervous' as the 4 Amazon Place home started off with low level bidding and stalled in the middle of its price guide. Bulldogs great Mark Hunter lists $4m+ Williamstown home 'And then it skyrocketed,' Mr Palmer said. 'I was just in a whole lot of shock.' Ironically, celebrations for the sale boosted by the carpenter's renovation work had to be kept limited as he was booked in to help some family with a reno on Sunday. 'But we will be looking for another house to renovate,' he added. They'll also be taking some time to enjoy the space that they've filled with memories, including bringing their daughter Mia, 18 months, home to. While the renovation gave the buyers confidence they could just move in and enjoy the home, it was a cat run built down the side for the Palmer family's cat Ziggy that had them enthused. Hocking Stuart's Justin Tong said while the home's renovation, and feline-friendly reno, had given it an edge — buyers hadn't let on until well into the auction. 'It was at $550,000 at the halftime break, with only two bidders, and I was a little bit concerned,' Mr Tong said. 'Then I came out and threatened to pass it in and it just went off.' In a sign that fear of missing out (FOMO) is returning, the agent said such gambits hadn't been as effective recently as buyers were better at holding their nerve. Records show the owners paid $547,000 in 2023. 'So it has gone up nearly $200,000 in two years,' Mr Tong said. A young couple buying their first home outbid an investor and a downsizer. The agent said rising demand after rate cuts had created a 'perfect storm' for home sellers in recent weeks. 'Two underbidders is fairly common at the moment,' Mr Tong said. The agency sold three out of their four auctions yesterday, with the only one falling short priced over $1m. Co-worker Samantha McCarthy yesterday secured a $740,000 sale at the top of the advertised range for 22 Mirrambeek Rd, Hoppers Crossing.
Yahoo
29-05-2025
- General
- Yahoo
Sioux City Warming Shelter temporarily pausing donations
SIOUX CITY, Iowa (KCAU) — The Sioux City Warming Shelter will be temporarily pausing donations. The Warming Shelter posted on Facebook Thursday morning that for the next two weeks they will be pausing donations. Story continues below Top Story: Potential SNAP cuts could impact food banks in Siouxland Lights & Sirens: 1 dead after truck crashes into backhoe near Norfolk Sports: Local Iowa high school girls playoff soccer highlights and scores (5-28-25) Weather: Get the latest weather forecast here The pause in donations is so that the Warming Shelter can organize their warehouse and get ready for construction. 'These changes will help us create designated spaces for male clients and female/children clients. In the process, we'll be reallocating surplus items to nonprofits and organizations that can put them to good use, ensuring we are responsible stewards of the generous donations we receive,' The Warming Shelter said in their post. The Warming Shelter said that they will post updates as they continue to clear their inventory. Currently, the Warming Shelter is offering walkers and crutches to those who may need them. If you are interested in crutches or a walker, you can contact Shayla at 712-301-4638. Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
Yahoo
13-05-2025
- General
- Yahoo
I used to not correct people when they got my name wrong. I've stopped trying to make it easier on other people.
Even my Dominican parents found my name complicated and call me by a nickname. Starting a new school year gave me anxiety because I knew I'd have to introduce myself. A teacher made me speak up when people mispronounced my name. When I was younger, I learned quickly that my name was complicated — not just for others, but even for my Dominican parents. My full name is Shaeleigh Severino (pronounced "shay-lee se-ver-ee-no"), and throughout my life, it has become a puzzle people prefer to simplify rather than solve. At home, my parents navigated between calling me "Shay-leigh" and "Che-la," influenced heavily by their Spanish accents and their struggle to balance Dominican traditions with adapting smoothly to American culture. Before I knew it, "Che-la" morphed into "Shayla," a simplified, Americanized version of my name. Over time, even I accepted this as my own. Every school year began with anxiety, knowing new teachers would inevitably stumble over my name. I would feel tension building each morning before class began, waiting to hear how teachers would attempt my name this time. Would they pause uncomfortably, avoid eye contact, or simply default to a nickname they'd heard others use? To ease the discomfort, I quickly adopted my nickname — Shae, which spread like wildfire among my classmates. Each new version created another layer of identity, fragmenting who I was into pieces that felt increasingly unfamiliar. This wasn't simply about pronunciation — it was about cultural assimilation, a desire to blend in and avoid standing out as different. The subtle pressure to conform and make life easier for others often meant distancing myself from the cultural heritage embedded in my given name. By allowing my name to be simplified or Americanized, I unintentionally participated in a broader erasure — an act that quietly distanced me from the stories, traditions, and legacy my name was meant to preserve. But everything shifted during my sophomore year of high school, thanks to one unforgettable teacher. On the very first day of class, after hearing me mumble yet another simplified version of my name, she paused and firmly said, "Your name matters. You force them to say it correctly or don't let them say it at all." Her words, simple yet profound, resonated deeply with me. In that instant, standing in front of friends who'd known me as Shay or Shayla for years, something clicked. I realized I'd spent too long answering to a name chosen solely because it was convenient for others. From that moment forward, I began gently but confidently insisting on my actual name — Shaeleigh. It wasn't always comfortable; correcting others felt awkward, and it still does. Sometimes, I hesitated, wondering if it was worth the trouble. Yet each correction became easier, feeling less like confrontation and more like an act of quiet bravery. Every small victory — a new friend or colleague getting it right on the first try — has been incredibly affirming. These moments remind me that even though fragments of my old identities still exist, I am continuously reclaiming and rebuilding my true sense of self. Nowadays, different versions of my name coexist, depending on when people entered my life. Old friends and family still call me Shayla, while newer acquaintances know me as Shaeleigh. I've learned to be patient with this mixture, recognizing that reclaiming your name and identity is an ongoing journey rather than a single event. I still pause when someone asks me, "What do you prefer to be called?" because it acknowledges the power and significance of my choice. In those moments, I reclaim my agency, one syllable at a time. Read the original article on Business Insider
Business Insider
13-05-2025
- General
- Business Insider
I used to not correct people when they got my name wrong. I've stopped trying to make it easier on other people.
Even my Dominican parents found my name complicated and call me by a nickname. Starting a new school year gave me anxiety because I knew I'd have to introduce myself. A teacher made me speak up when people mispronounced my name. When I was younger, I learned quickly that my name was complicated — not just for others, but even for my Dominican parents. My full name is Shaeleigh Severino (pronounced "shay-lee se-ver-ee-no"), and throughout my life, it has become a puzzle people prefer to simplify rather than solve. At home, my parents navigated between calling me "Shay-leigh" and "Che-la," influenced heavily by their Spanish accents and their struggle to balance Dominican traditions with adapting smoothly to American culture. Before I knew it, "Che-la" morphed into "Shayla," a simplified, Americanized version of my name. Over time, even I accepted this as my own. School gave me anxiety Every school year began with anxiety, knowing new teachers would inevitably stumble over my name. I would feel tension building each morning before class began, waiting to hear how teachers would attempt my name this time. Would they pause uncomfortably, avoid eye contact, or simply default to a nickname they'd heard others use? To ease the discomfort, I quickly adopted my nickname — Shae, which spread like wildfire among my classmates. Each new version created another layer of identity, fragmenting who I was into pieces that felt increasingly unfamiliar. This wasn't simply about pronunciation — it was about cultural assimilation, a desire to blend in and avoid standing out as different. The subtle pressure to conform and make life easier for others often meant distancing myself from the cultural heritage embedded in my given name. By allowing my name to be simplified or Americanized, I unintentionally participated in a broader erasure — an act that quietly distanced me from the stories, traditions, and legacy my name was meant to preserve. A teacher told me my name mattered But everything shifted during my sophomore year of high school, thanks to one unforgettable teacher. On the very first day of class, after hearing me mumble yet another simplified version of my name, she paused and firmly said, "Your name matters. You force them to say it correctly or don't let them say it at all." Her words, simple yet profound, resonated deeply with me. In that instant, standing in front of friends who'd known me as Shay or Shayla for years, something clicked. I realized I'd spent too long answering to a name chosen solely because it was convenient for others. From that moment forward, I began gently but confidently insisting on my actual name — Shaeleigh. It wasn't always comfortable; correcting others felt awkward, and it still does. Sometimes, I hesitated, wondering if it was worth the trouble. Yet each correction became easier, feeling less like confrontation and more like an act of quiet bravery. Every small victory — a new friend or colleague getting it right on the first try — has been incredibly affirming. These moments remind me that even though fragments of my old identities still exist, I am continuously reclaiming and rebuilding my true sense of self. Nowadays, different versions of my name coexist, depending on when people entered my life. Old friends and family still call me Shayla, while newer acquaintances know me as Shaeleigh. I've learned to be patient with this mixture, recognizing that reclaiming your name and identity is an ongoing journey rather than a single event. I still pause when someone asks me, "What do you prefer to be called?" because it acknowledges the power and significance of my choice. In those moments, I reclaim my agency, one syllable at a time.
