Wendy, Bernice's beloved 14 year old tortoiseshell cat, underwent emergency brain surgery on October 30, 2025 to remove a huge meningioma tumor that was taking up nearly 30% of her cranial cavity.

While pet insurance has fortunately covered 80% of the costs, Bernice is still scrambling to cover a 4-figure co-insurance bill. Any financial donations will go a long way towards helping both Bernice and Wendy recover from this unexpected and heart-wrenching ordeal.

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From Bernice:

Wendy has been my beloved companion since I was 15 years old. Adopted from a shelter in 2012 as a 10-month-old kitten, she has been my trusty familiar, accompanying me through high school, college, a cross country move from Pittsburgh to San Francisco, and eight different homes (including four community houses).

Chatty, social, inquisitive, playful, resilient, and sweet, Wendy has been a friend to many and an excellent ambassador of her species. My neighbors in college were inspired to adopt their own cat after meeting Wendy. A house guest once remarked, "I’m not usually a cat person... but I love this cat." A former housemate, when presenting a powerpoint about their life story, dedicated an entire slide to Wendy.

Wendy has also been my dear shadow, best friend, and confidante, shepherding and witnessing me through the ups and downs of my young adulthood and coming of age. She runs to the door to greet me when I come home (and then plays with my shoelaces as I untie them), sits on my chest when I cry, and is the little spoon to my big spoon every night.

She's been there for me through the worst of my depressive episodes, anchoring me to reality when I was a deeply troubled teenager. She's been there for me through the losses of loved ones, offering soft and gentle comfort when grief turned my world upside down. And she's been there with me for all the celebrations, graduations, job offers, art projects, birthday parties, falling-in-loves, soul-searchings, and growing up I've experienced in the last 13 years.

Wendy and I through the years:

Around October 15, 2025, my housemates, my partner, and I began noticing that Wendy was more clumsy than usual - losing her balance while walking along the edge of the couch and fumbling on the stairs. These instances initially seemed like flukes, or perhaps just gradual signs of an aging body. But by October 24, her symptoms had begun to escalate. She was more lethargic, spending much of her time hiding in dark corners, and more irritable and uncharacteristically mute.

Her motor control also worsened. She began compulsively circling, falling over, struggling to jump to her favorite spots on the couch and bed, and losing her balance in the litter box. It was heartwrenching and alarming to watch her deteriorate so rapidly. I began sleeping on the floor of my bedroom to be near her, since she could no longer access the bed. She seemed frustrated, confused, and stressed by her rapidly declining capabilities.

Her vet recommended we take her to see a neurologist. My partner and I called 8 different clinics - most of them didn’t have availability until late November or early December. Finally, we found an appointment for the next week at Remedy Veterinary Specialists in San Francisco.

On October 30, we took Wendy to Remedy, where she underwent anesthesia and an MRI scan, which revealed a large meningioma that was putting immense pressure on her brain. Dr. Mona Qahwash, the neurologist, expressed her concern that, without surgery, "Wendy could pass away at any moment", as the tumor could begin to interfere with vital reflexes, including her ability to breathe.

Wendy's MRI's:

Dr. Qahwash told us that cats with meningiomas often respond well to brain surgery. However, there were also risks involved, beyond the inherent fact that this was major surgery - Wendy's older age for one, plus some chronic lung issues that could make going under anesthesia again more risky.

As I weighed my options, I held her little body in a bundle of blankets. She was groggy from the anesthesia they’d given her for the MRI, but she was awake and warm and soft. I pressed my face to her fur and felt acutely aware that the life inside of her was close to slipping away.

If I didn’t go forward with surgery, it seemed quite certain that Wendy’s condition would continue to decline, and I would soon need to consider euthanasia for her so as to not prolong her suffering. If I went forward with surgery, it was possible that complications could arise from anesthesia or the procedure itself, and she could die on the operating table.

Three things floated to the surface of the murky soup of decisions and considerations and emotions:

1) In some ways, the results from the MRI scan were the best case scenario given the context - Wendy’s symptoms were due to an operable tumor, and the team at Remedy were ready to perform surgery on her that same day.

2) Throughout all of her symptoms, Wendy had yet to lose her appetite. Her ability to stand steadily in front of her food bowl had suffered, but when I brought her food to her, she ate well. She also still eagerly consumed her favorite lickable treats, albeit more messily than usual.

3) Regardless of the outcome of the situation, I was filled with gratitude for this tiny being who has helped me grow up and grow into myself, who has been with me for almost half of my life, and who embodies such joy, friendliness, and sweetness. I knew that it was an honor to experience the fear and grief I felt at the thought of losing her. It is in an honor to shepherd her through her old age. It is an honor to love another creature so fiercely.

I decided to go forward with brain surgery.

The next few minutes were a blur. I pet her head before handing her back to the nurse, and knew that it was possible I might not see her alive again. I flipped through banking apps on my phone to check the credit limits and interest rates of all my credit cards, to figure out the most logical way to put down the 5-figure deposit for the surgery. Dr. Qahwash told me that she’d give me a call in a few hours, once Wendy was out of surgery.

Over the next few hours, I felt an eerie sense of calm. There is a strange stillness in the aftermath of compressed, high stakes decision-making. At this point, her fate was out of my hands.

Around 6:00 PM, I got a call from Dr. Qahwash: “Wendy is out of surgery, and everything went well.”

Wendy and I before surgery, Wendy right after surgery, and Wendy in the car coming home:

After her surgery, she stayed at the hospital for one night, and the overnight vet team at Remedy kept me updated over text. Within just a few hours of coming out of surgery, the nurses reported that she was giving affectionate head butts and purring, both things she’d barely done the week before. She was cleared to go home the next day, Halloween, and when we picked her up, the nurse who met us said she’d never seen a cat bounce back so quickly after brain surgery.

Wendy’s post-surgery recovery has been remarkable. If it weren’t for the scar on her head and her post-op medication regimen, one wouldn’t be able to tell she was on death’s door last week. It is surreal, blissful, astounding, to hear her sassy meow, feel her rumbling purr, and watch her trot around the house with confidence, just days after carrying her listless body into the vet office.

It’s very likely that this surgery has added years to Wendy’s life. It’s also likely that this surgery has restored her overall quality of life to be better than it has been for years. Meningiomas are usually slow-growing, and early symptoms in humans often include headaches, nausea, memory issues, and vision problems, symptoms that Wendy could have been suffering from in silence for a while.

If you’d read this far, thank you so much. I feel so much gratitude for the team at Remedy, for my partner, Ransom, who accompanied me to every vet visit, for my friends and housemates who held tender space for me as I confronted Wendy’s mortality.

I also cannot recommend getting pet insurance enough, and I’m grateful to have access to credit lines that let me put down a 5-figure deposit on her surgery. As a working artist, any amount of support is so, so appreciated. I feel beyond blessed for Wendy’s new lease on life, and am excited to continue sharing updates with you all. <3