Help Save Mickey — Our Sweet Pup Deserves More Time

My sweet, loving pup Mickey has been hospitalized for over a week now. He was diagnosed with severe pancreatitis, and for days he wasn’t eating, wasn’t moving, and wasn’t responding. Anyone who’s experienced this illness knows it can go one of two ways—either a slow recovery… or a sudden, heartbreaking end. For several days, we feared it was the latter.

We were devastated. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t ready to give up hope when I received a call from the first hospital we took him to in Yonkers. Over the phone—and with cold detachment—they told us that we should consider putting him down. We were blindsided. We had only brought him in for fluids, thinking his vomiting and loss of appetite were temporary. Just hours before, he had been playful and lively. Now, we were being told we might never bring him home again.

That call shattered us. It felt like the end—like there would be not one more car ride home, not one more haircut, and no more excited tail wags after waiting all day for us to come home. We thought that was it.

But then… a miracle. Mickey had a breakthrough. After days of treatment, he began eating again. The moment I heard the news, I cried. I had prepared myself to say goodbye—but suddenly, there was hope.

Mickey has since been transferred to Red Bank Veterinary Hospital in New Jersey, where a team of specialists has not only helped him stabilize from the pancreatitis, but also given us a path forward. Unfortunately, his journey isn’t over.

He’s still facing a serious obstruction in his kidney and ureter due to stones, which will require surgical placement of a ureteral stent. This stent will allow urine to flow again, relieve the pressure and pain, and prevent the pancreatitis from returning. Without it, this cycle of suffering will continue—and it will eventually be fatal.

We’ve invested everything we can into Mickey’s care—emotionally, physically, and financially. And to come this far, only to fall short at the last step, would be unbearable. What makes Mickey especially precious to us is that he was originally my late brother’s dog. Mickey is one of the last living pieces of him, a gentle soul who has helped carry us through grief we didn’t know how to bear. In many ways, he feels like an extension of my brother, and the thought of losing him so suddenly is a pain we’re struggling to face.

I know no dog lasts forever, and I still hear my brother’s voice in my head:

“Remember, he’s not ours to keep forever.”

But right now, we just want to buy him a little more time.

We want more moments. More tail wags. More coming home to find him waiting at the door.

If you can help us in any way—with a donation, a share, a kind word—it would mean the world to us.

Every single dollar helps us get closer to getting Mickey the care he needs to come home.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. Thank you for seeing Mickey.