My name is Sutton. On Easter Sunday, while I was out of town, I lost my Georgia, my soulmate, my twin, and honestly the reason I’m still here. Her platelets crashed to zero from Immune-Mediated Thrombocytopenia. Her immune system spontaneously destroyed her own blood cells without warning. She fought all night while I was hundreds of miles away, saying I love you into the phone, unable to get to her, unable to kiss my baby goodbye. My boyfriend held her fluffy body through a sudden intracranial hemorrhage. The brain bleed was the final thing her body couldn’t survive. She was eight years old.

That night we had to transfer her to a different emergency facility to run radiology, start a blood transfusion, and a platelet match & transfer procedure to try to save her. We were charged thousands of dollars and we signed off on everything without hesitation. We were quoted thousands more for what still needed to be done. We agreed to all of it. We still lost her. The financial burden of that night, on top of years of fighting for her, has left us overwhelmed. Anything helps. Truly anything.

I am heartbroken. I am exhausted. And for the first time in this whole fight, I am asking for help.

For six years we had already been fighting. At 2 years old in 2019, she got a diagnosis that statistically gives dogs only 18 months to live. I cooked her food by hand, gave her medication every single day, and spent nearly $10,000 over the course of her life keeping her alive and thriving. She lived more than four times longer than the average dog in her position. I fought so hard for so long. In one night, on one Easter Sunday, while I was gone, it was over.

We have seriously been distraught trying to figure out how we can recover and do this. Our goal is $5,000 but every single dollar means more than we can say.

Thank you for reading her name. Thank you for being here.

Read Georgia’s full medical story below. she was extraordinary.

Georgia Mae Mills | June 16, 2017 — April 5, 2026

Georgia’s miraculous story, our story, deserves to be told and shared. My twenties centered around Georgia.

Every single day, this precious creature was at my feet. Every decision, every sacrifice, every dollar, every morning, she was the center of all of it. I turn 30 in August. And somehow, impossibly, she is leaving me right at the threshold of the next decade of my life. I almost don’t know who I am without her. She was sent from God. I truly believe that.

Here is what I need you to understand about what we built together.

Georgia was a Blue Merle Mini Australian Shepherd born on June 16, 2017 - missing a toe, had a congenital eye condition called iris hyperplasia, and carrying a genetic blueprint that would define every chapter of her life.

In June 2019, routine pre-surgical bloodwork before her spay revealed her ALT (a key liver enzyme with a normal ceiling of 118) had already climbed to 517. By November 2019 it had exploded to 1,490. Nearly thirteen times the upper limit of normal. She was referred to a board-certified internal medicine specialist at the VCA Animal Diagnostic Clinic in Dallas. What followed was one of the most exhaustive diagnostic workups a two year old dog could undergo. full bloodwork panels, bile acid testing that came back at 206.6, more than eight times the upper limit of normal, a technetium scintigraphy scan, abdominal ultrasound showing her liver appeared abnormally small, and ultimately a laparoscopic liver biopsy procedure.

The results were devastating. Grade 4 out of 5 chronic liver disease. one of the most severe classifications on the scale. Copper storage disease. A congenital portal microvascular anomaly present since birth. Active cell death throughout her liver tissue. And buried in the pathology report — early signs of an auto-immune response, her immune system already beginning to turn on her own tissue. At age two.

Her specialist was honest with me. The average survival time after her diagnosis is 18 months. Most dogs don’t make it to 4 or 5. She recommended D-Penicillamine and other medications, lab work every 6 weeks, and to pray for the best.

I refused to accept that.

I researched, I monitored, I adjusted, I fought. I cooked her food by hand. veggies, eggs, oatmeal, cottage cheese, fruit. (The smell of this recipe was a constant complaint from every ex boyfriend in my twenties lol.) We gave her a liver support supplement every day & spent nearly $10,000 over the course of her life on specialists, biopsies, supplements, and homemade meals (all on my own, with major support from my mom) because she was worth every single penny and I would do it all again without hesitation.

The D-Penicillamine that was prescribed has a documented side effect that includes thrombocytopenia and the development of autoimmune disorders. I didn’t know this at the time. I acted on instinct, on devotion, and on a quiet conviction that I knew what my dog needed. dietary management alone can normalize hepatic copper in some dogs. This is a legitimate, documented alternative to lifelong chelation therapy. Georgia was one of those dogs.

And it worked.

Her liver enzymes fell dramatically. Her bile acids normalized. A veterinarian who reviewed her case in 2024 was so astonished at her recovery she was sharing Georgia’s records with colleagues, telling me to keep doing exactly what I was doing, because whatever I was doing was working. She found it nearly impossible to reconcile the severity of the original diagnosis with the dog standing in front of her.

I didn’t just love her. I healed her. With my own hands, my own kitchen, my own devotion, every single day for six years.

Georgia lived to eight years old. More than four times longer than the statistics said she would. She was running and playing hours before she died. Her October 2025 bloodwork was stable and beautiful, her liver holding, her platelets perfect, her body a testament to everything we had built together.

Nobody could have predicted what happened.

On Easter, without any warning, her immune system turned on her own platelets. Immune-Mediated Thrombocytopenia — the same auto-immune story her body had been quietly telling since her very first biopsy in 2020, finally finding a new target. No warning. No trigger. Her platelet count crashed to zero. We transferred her between emergency facilities that night. She suffered an intracranial hemorrhage and was gone.

I was out of town. I said I love you into the phone. And just like that, after all of it, after every meal I cooked and every pill I gave and every year we weren’t supposed to have, she was gone.

I have never known grief like this. I have never known loss like this. She was my soulmate, my twin, my spirit guide, and honestly the reason I am still here. And I am walking into my thirties without her for the first time, trying to figure out who I am when the creature who defined an entire decade of my life is no longer at my feet.

I loved her more than I will ever be able to explain. And she lived because of it. This one’s for everyone who has known us through this journey. ♥️