Donation protected
They say that you don't find a cat. A cat finds you.
I've had a few cats find me throughout my life- the last one was my best friend for 15 years before cancer took him away. It took time for me to get past the loss (I won't say "get over" it, because do you ever really get over losing a loved one?) But in October of 2017, I decided I was ready to be found again.
I went to the county shelter and spent a couple hours just looking and wondering- wondering how some people could abandon these friends, abandon the unconditional love that they so willingly give, and finally, I came upon a seemingly empty cage in the bottom corner of the room. I knelt down to look inside and huddled in the back of the cage was a tiny ball of black fluff. She looked up at me, stood up and walked right to the front of the cage as if to greet me, and I knew in that moment that I had been found.
It took another 4 hours before they finally called on me to begin my adoption application. All the while I waited constantly looking back through the glass wall into the room to make sure no one else was trying to take her, but finally, after what became an 8 hour adventure, I brought her to her new home.
I named her Dasher.
Dasher was only 4 weeks old when I brought her home, but she had no trouble claiming the house (and me) as her own. The "bedroom" in my apartment is basically a loft, and as I went to bed that first night, I left her downstairs with a small light on so she could be near her food and litter box in a safe, contained area. After lying in bed for only a few minutes, however, I heard a faint rustling at the foot of the bed. I looked down to see Dasher stumbling toward me. This 4 week old warrior who was no bigger than my hand had managed to pull herself up a full flight of stairs and onto my bed where she spent the night sleeping in the crook of my neck.
It was then that I knew she was a fighter!
Over the past couple years, Dasher has grown into a beautiful, happy cat.
She can be sneaky...
...she loves her toys...
...and she even plays fetch!
Then, this past May, I noticed that she had developed a rapid breathing rhythm. It was highly abnormal yet I could see no specific pattern to it. Even when sleeping, she was breathing much too quickly. I took her to her vet, and she was diagnosed with a pleural effusion - a large amount of fluid had collected in her chest surrounding her lungs and heart making it difficult for them to expand forcing her to take short, quick breaths.
She never showed any signs of discomfort.
She continued to eat and play as always never wanting to let me know that she was suffering.
They drained 200ccs of fluid from her chest and thus began a series of tests and treatments trying to find the cause and then hopefully the solution to her problem.
Since late May, she has had fluid drained from her chest on a bi-weekly basis. She has been tested for cancer, FIP, and heart disease. She has had multiple ultrasounds, a CT, and even a modest round of chemotherapy. Finally, after bi-weekly and sometimes weekly visits, they found that a lobe on her right lung had twisted. This was promising in that it was most likely the cause of the fluid accumulation; however, the only way to "cure" the problem would be surgery to remove the diseased portion of the lung.
Throughout all of this poking, prodding and forced medication, she still never let on that she was in pain. Then she stopped playing and would often just lie on the floor beside her toys, yet she would still climb into bed with me each night purring and kneading as she drifted off to sleep. But I could see she was definitely beginning a steady decline.
Two days before her surgery, I woke to find her hiding in a corner and noticed what I thought was some sort of discharge out of the corner of her eye. It was actually much worse. An ulcer had developed behind her left eye and become inflamed. Though the initial diagnosis was viral, the doctor said the sudden inflammation was most likely cause by the extreme stress she has been under for the past two months.
She had to have her eye partially sewn shut and begin a whole new round of medications including pills and eyedrops.
She was hospitalized for the 2 days prior to her surgery and then for another 3 days afterward.
Her recovery began slowly. She ate little and I have sometimes had to feed her through a feeding tube.
I slept on the sofa-bed with her to prevent her from trying to climb the stairs and risk possibly tearing a stitch.
After her first week back home, they removed the stitches to re-open her eye, though the pills and drops continue. Though the prognosis looked good (no pun intended), I was still concerned about her lungs and chest.
I placed a beanbag chair (yes, I have a beanbag chair, and yes I know it's not the 70s anymore) on the stair landing to prevent her from trying to follow me up. Then one day about a week ago (little more than a week after her surgery), as I approached the stairs to go back down after my shower, I saw this:
The little girl who does not know the meaning of the word quit jumped up 2 stairs and pulled herself onto the beanbag and eventually made her way up into the loft and onto the bed. I guess she got tired of sleeping on the couch.
Dasher got her stitches taken out and the feeding tube removed on Tuesday, August 11.
The doctors say that they are confident in her recovery, but her journey is not over yet. She has to return to the ophthalmologist next week, and there will be follow-ups with the surgeon to assess her recovery and check for additional fluid build up.
But we need your help.
I have never found it easy to ask people for favors, especially when they are of a financial nature, but at this point in my life, it is time to put my pride aside. As a teacher, you can imagine that I am not exactly rolling in disposable income. In just the past two months, Dasher's medical bills have totaled over $12,000 ($12,143.57 to be exact), and there is still more to come. And I will be there for every second of it.
Any help that you can give will be deeply appreciated and 100% will go toward her medical bills.
Dasher will be 3 years old on September 23rd. Too young to have to deal with something like this. But I will see her through it! For as alone as I may feel sometimes in life, I am never alone as long as I have her by my side. I cannot give up on the little girl who wouldn't give up on me.
Thank you for taking the time to consider my request.
I've had a few cats find me throughout my life- the last one was my best friend for 15 years before cancer took him away. It took time for me to get past the loss (I won't say "get over" it, because do you ever really get over losing a loved one?) But in October of 2017, I decided I was ready to be found again.
I went to the county shelter and spent a couple hours just looking and wondering- wondering how some people could abandon these friends, abandon the unconditional love that they so willingly give, and finally, I came upon a seemingly empty cage in the bottom corner of the room. I knelt down to look inside and huddled in the back of the cage was a tiny ball of black fluff. She looked up at me, stood up and walked right to the front of the cage as if to greet me, and I knew in that moment that I had been found.
It took another 4 hours before they finally called on me to begin my adoption application. All the while I waited constantly looking back through the glass wall into the room to make sure no one else was trying to take her, but finally, after what became an 8 hour adventure, I brought her to her new home.
I named her Dasher.
Dasher was only 4 weeks old when I brought her home, but she had no trouble claiming the house (and me) as her own. The "bedroom" in my apartment is basically a loft, and as I went to bed that first night, I left her downstairs with a small light on so she could be near her food and litter box in a safe, contained area. After lying in bed for only a few minutes, however, I heard a faint rustling at the foot of the bed. I looked down to see Dasher stumbling toward me. This 4 week old warrior who was no bigger than my hand had managed to pull herself up a full flight of stairs and onto my bed where she spent the night sleeping in the crook of my neck.
It was then that I knew she was a fighter!
Over the past couple years, Dasher has grown into a beautiful, happy cat.
She can be sneaky...
...she loves her toys...
...and she even plays fetch!
Then, this past May, I noticed that she had developed a rapid breathing rhythm. It was highly abnormal yet I could see no specific pattern to it. Even when sleeping, she was breathing much too quickly. I took her to her vet, and she was diagnosed with a pleural effusion - a large amount of fluid had collected in her chest surrounding her lungs and heart making it difficult for them to expand forcing her to take short, quick breaths.
She never showed any signs of discomfort.
She continued to eat and play as always never wanting to let me know that she was suffering.
They drained 200ccs of fluid from her chest and thus began a series of tests and treatments trying to find the cause and then hopefully the solution to her problem.
Since late May, she has had fluid drained from her chest on a bi-weekly basis. She has been tested for cancer, FIP, and heart disease. She has had multiple ultrasounds, a CT, and even a modest round of chemotherapy. Finally, after bi-weekly and sometimes weekly visits, they found that a lobe on her right lung had twisted. This was promising in that it was most likely the cause of the fluid accumulation; however, the only way to "cure" the problem would be surgery to remove the diseased portion of the lung.
Throughout all of this poking, prodding and forced medication, she still never let on that she was in pain. Then she stopped playing and would often just lie on the floor beside her toys, yet she would still climb into bed with me each night purring and kneading as she drifted off to sleep. But I could see she was definitely beginning a steady decline.
Two days before her surgery, I woke to find her hiding in a corner and noticed what I thought was some sort of discharge out of the corner of her eye. It was actually much worse. An ulcer had developed behind her left eye and become inflamed. Though the initial diagnosis was viral, the doctor said the sudden inflammation was most likely cause by the extreme stress she has been under for the past two months.
She had to have her eye partially sewn shut and begin a whole new round of medications including pills and eyedrops.
She was hospitalized for the 2 days prior to her surgery and then for another 3 days afterward.
Her recovery began slowly. She ate little and I have sometimes had to feed her through a feeding tube.
I slept on the sofa-bed with her to prevent her from trying to climb the stairs and risk possibly tearing a stitch.
After her first week back home, they removed the stitches to re-open her eye, though the pills and drops continue. Though the prognosis looked good (no pun intended), I was still concerned about her lungs and chest.
I placed a beanbag chair (yes, I have a beanbag chair, and yes I know it's not the 70s anymore) on the stair landing to prevent her from trying to follow me up. Then one day about a week ago (little more than a week after her surgery), as I approached the stairs to go back down after my shower, I saw this:
The little girl who does not know the meaning of the word quit jumped up 2 stairs and pulled herself onto the beanbag and eventually made her way up into the loft and onto the bed. I guess she got tired of sleeping on the couch.
Dasher got her stitches taken out and the feeding tube removed on Tuesday, August 11.
The doctors say that they are confident in her recovery, but her journey is not over yet. She has to return to the ophthalmologist next week, and there will be follow-ups with the surgeon to assess her recovery and check for additional fluid build up.
But we need your help.
I have never found it easy to ask people for favors, especially when they are of a financial nature, but at this point in my life, it is time to put my pride aside. As a teacher, you can imagine that I am not exactly rolling in disposable income. In just the past two months, Dasher's medical bills have totaled over $12,000 ($12,143.57 to be exact), and there is still more to come. And I will be there for every second of it.
Any help that you can give will be deeply appreciated and 100% will go toward her medical bills.
Dasher will be 3 years old on September 23rd. Too young to have to deal with something like this. But I will see her through it! For as alone as I may feel sometimes in life, I am never alone as long as I have her by my side. I cannot give up on the little girl who wouldn't give up on me.
Thank you for taking the time to consider my request.
Organizer
Clint Hooper
Organizer
Miami, FL