Snowball’s Fight — and Her Wish

I’m asking for help for a little feral cat named Snowball. Before I ask for anything, I want to be completely upfront:

She may not survive.

At any point, I may have to make the decision to let her go peacefully.

If that happens, the funds will go toward her final care (euthanasia and cremation), and anything remaining will go toward feeding the feral cats I care for every night at Lowe’s and Golden Corral.

Now let me tell you about her.

Snowball showed up behind Golden Corral in the fall of 2024 — just a tiny kitten, alone, living in the bushes. For nearly a year, she kept her distance. I fed her every night, but she wouldn’t let me get close. If I approached, she hissed and ran. I would have to put the food down and walk away before she would come out.

Then, in early fall of 2025, something changed.

It was like a switch flipped.

She suddenly started coming out to greet me — rubbing against my legs, walking between my feet, almost tripping me. The very first night she did this, she followed me all the way to the front of the restaurant and stood outside waiting while I ate. A server came over and told me, “Your cat is standing outside the window waiting on you.”

That was Snowball.

A couple of days later, I tried to trap her so I could bring her home — but I failed. Animal Control had also previously tried to trap her and was unsuccessful.

So instead, as winter approached, I bought her an insulated house, stuffed it with straw, and hid it in the bushes. Every night, she would poke her little head out when I pulled up, recognize my car, and come running to greet me.

She stayed in that house all winter… until March 2026, when it suddenly disappeared.

Shortly after that, the bushes she had lived in her entire life were torn out for construction.

Her home was gone.

Twelve days ago — on Tuesday, April 14, 2026 — I noticed she was lethargic.

At first it was subtle. She walked instead of ran. Ate less. Lost weight.

Then it escalated quickly.

I tried again to trap her, but she resisted — and I was afraid that if I failed, she would disappear again and I’d never be able to help her. She had avoided me and hid from me for two weeks after that last failed attempt to catch her on March 15.

Over the next several days, I sat with her for over an hour each night — feeding her, petting her, trying to keep her comfortable.

Finally, Monday night, she was too weak to fight.

I picked her up and brought her home.

The vet results were devastating.

She tested negative for panleukopenia, leukemia, and FIV — but the X-rays and bloodwork point strongly to FIP (Feline Infectious Peritonitis), a fast-moving and historically fatal disease.

There is treatment now — but it’s expensive, time-sensitive, and only works if her body is strong enough to respond.

Right now, that’s the biggest uncertainty.

Where the money goes:

I am setting this fundraiser at $2,500, and here is why:

1.) $1,200 already spent on emergency vet care and hospitalization

2.) $300 already spent on one vial of GS-441524 (FIP antiviral)

3.) Cost of two additional vials to complete initial treatment

4.) Follow-up vet visits and monitoring

If she stabilizes and survives, the total cost will likely go beyond this. We’ll deal with that later.

If she declines, I will cancel further medication and use the funds for:

~Humane euthanasia if necessary

~Cremation

~Food for the other feral cats she leaves behind

Nothing will be wasted.

The reality is this:

She may not make it.

Even if I had caught this earlier, it may not have changed the outcome. FIP moves fast, and by the time symptoms show, it is often already too late.

But right now, she is still eating some. She is still purring. She is still here.

So I am trying.

What she wants:

Snowball was never a house cat.

She didn’t want to be “rescued.” She had no concept of what a human home would be like... she had lived her entire life, all 20 months or so, in the same bushes, alone. Every night after I petted and fed her, she would grab onto my ankles to try to prevent me from leaving. She wasn't asking to be taken to my home... she was asking for me to stay with her in HER home... in the bushes.

Each time I tried to trap her, she fought with everything she had. The last attempt on March 15 was so traumatic for her that I promised her I wouldn't try again.

What she wanted… was me.

She wanted me to stay with her.

Now she’s here.

And I understand.

So I’m doing exactly what she always wanted.

I’m staying with her.

As much as I possibly can.

She lies next to me, and every time I touch her, she purrs. When I lean down, she rubs her face against mine — just like she did in that parking lot.

She made a wish, in her own way.

And I’m making that wish come true for her.

For as long as I can.

If you feel led to help, thank you.

If not, thank you for simply reading her story.

Either way — she’s not alone anymore.