This is my baby, Salem. My story with him began back in August of 2019. What I mistook for the sound of a neighbor’s crying baby was actually this little soot sprite of a cat. Salem was meowing up a storm in my neighbor’s driveway. I opened my window and, before I could realize what I was doing, I started meowing back. Salem all but sprinted to my front door. It was love at first sight. The very next day, I went out and bought some cat food I thought would suffice.

There were a million things running through my head about Salem. Was this someone’s cat that got out? Was this cat pregnant, and is that why he/she was crying so much? After I begged my dad, he agreed to let me take the newfound stray to a nearby vet the next day. We had to leave Salem there so the veterinarians could perform standard exams, bloodwork, etc.

The vet called us back a short while later to confirm that Salem was not microchipped. I asked if Salem could be pregnant, which would explain the nonstop crying. I’ll never forget the next words: ‘So she’s not pregnant, because she is a he,’ followed by an almost relieved laugh. The vet also explained that he was already neutered and was more than likely part of a catch-and-release program. I couldn’t believe that I finally had my own little fur baby. I had always wanted a black cat. I grew up watching Sabrina the Teenage Witch with my grandma, and I had always said that if I ever found a black cat, I’d name him after Sabrina’s cat. It was meant to be.

Fast forward to May 12th, 2026, at around 12:30 A.M. I had a long workday and sometimes become a little restless at night. When I arrived home, my sister and aunt mentioned that Salem had been acting a little strange all day and was going around in circles. I didn’t think much of it because he walks around all day long trying to convince someone to give him food. Because I was so restless this particular night, I brought Salem upstairs to my bedroom to have him lay with me. He began to get up from his spot on my bed, circle a few times, and would only snap out of it when I’d ask him, ‘What’s wrong, baby?’ He would eventually sit down but then would repeat the behavior. I immediately knew this was unusual for him.

I called my dad and sister to come upstairs and take a look at Salem. Neither of them could figure out what was wrong until I scratched the top of Salem’s head and felt a large bump on his left side. My heart began racing, and I knew I had to contact our vet ASAP. I called them that morning to schedule an appointment. They could see him that Wednesday—which was only a day away but felt like forever. I worked until 5:00 P.M. that day, but my dad felt it was urgent enough that we make an unplanned trip to the vet. Upon arrival, we explained that we had an appointment the next morning but just couldn’t wait. Luckily, our vet was there and took him in right away. They performed a small biopsy on the lump, gave Salem an antibiotic shot, and did some bloodwork. We would know his results within a week. Until then, we had to wait.

I received a missed call, a voicemail, and an email from my vet on Saturday, May 16th. I was hit with a wave of anxiety. I read the transcript of the voicemail and knew it was bad as soon as they asked us to call back. I opened my email and saw the message: ‘Unfortunately, the sample came back consistent with large cell lymphoma.’

I had hoped it was just an infection. My world fell apart. What was I supposed to do? I’ve never dealt with this before. The vet suggested getting a CT scan to confirm whether the cancer was coming from his sinus cavities. Over the course of just a few days, Salem’s condition worsened. He began to lose his vision, growled at the slightest touch, and seemed overall miserable. My boyfriend and I rushed to an emergency vet center in Westbury where they could perform a CT scan. Unfortunately, it was out of the realm of possibility for us, as they wanted $4,000 for the CT alone. Defeated, we went back home and settled for doing bloodwork and X-rays at our primary vet instead.

Fast forward to May 19th. I took Salem to our primary vet. There, they took full-body X-rays, and within ten minutes, they were able to confirm that his lymph nodes didn’t seem agitated. They also confirmed that his bones seemed fine and that the cancer likely hadn’t metastasized there yet. They sent me home with prednisolone, and within 12 hours, his symptoms began improving. The next day, despite still being slightly agitated, his eyesight started coming back. His behavior improved a lot, and his lump began decreasing in size.

My boyfriend and I called every oncologist we could in the meantime to get him a consultation. I know that Salem has a fight in him, and he deserves a chance at living a quality life. Somehow, we were able to get a same-week oncology appointment at a treatment center in Brooklyn. We called on Thursday, May 21st, and they said we could be seen as soon as that Sunday. Given that everywhere else was booked well into July and August, this was a gigantic miracle. We know we’re essentially racing against the clock with Salem’s lymphoma, as it is aggressive.

Come Sunday, May 24th. We hopped on a train to the treatment center for our 12 o’clock appointment. The oncologist walked us through our treatment options. We ultimately agreed that chemotherapy—without radiation—was the best route for him. If I could keep Salem around for a million years pain-free, I would. I am an emotional mess right now and am trying to think as logically as I can. We could get another 6 to 12 months with him through chemotherapy. His vet bills have been so draining on us already, and we don’t have many other options. Since Salem’s white blood cell count is drastically low, they must give him another medication to boost it before chemo. According to the oncologist, the chemotherapy will likely cost thousands of dollars, ranging between $17,000 and $18,000.

Please help me give my baby a chance at living a fruitful, pain-free life. I was in a dark place before I found Salem. He gave me a purpose; he gave me a reason to keep going. I owe him a fair chance. This isn’t something I would ever expect to happen to a cat who is only 10 years old. He deserves the world. If you’ve made it this far, thank you. Every dollar, even cents helps us.