My name is Peter, and this is Yamato. He’s the Shiba Inu who’s been by my side since he was a tiny, naughty pup on 1 March 2020. He’s also the face you might have seen on Pro Balance kibbles, and until a few weeks ago, he was the the icon of a playful Shiba.

Yamato didn’t just grow up with me. He built my family.

He came to me during Covid, and just at the start of my career. To be a good dog dad, I took Yamato everywhere with me. He sat with me at cafés, convinced staff to give us discounts with his cuteness, met countless dogs (especially other Shibas), and filled my life with laughter.

Then, when I least expected it, Yamato led me to the love of my life, Chi. Yamato is everything about our relationship, and thanks to him, Chi and I fell in love, married, and recently welcomed our baby girl.

Early this year, we temporarily boarded Yamato with trusted friends in Sydney while we prepared for the birth overseas. The plan was always to settle back in Asia and bring him home as soon as things were stable.

But a few weeks ago, everything changed.

Yamato started limping on his right front leg. X-rays showed no fracture, and we hoped it was just a sprain. Then the pain grew worse: screaming through the night, or even at the gentlest touch. A CT scan suggested a tumour. That’s when I knew I had do something.

We made one of the hardest decision: I need to leave my wife Chi alone in my home country. She is a foreigner in China, not fluent in Chinese, and caring for our newborn.

I flew back to Sydney on 22 April, because Yamato needed me more than anyone right now. But this means I'm torn between two families far apart in two countries.

The moment I walked in the door and picked him up, things shifted. Yamato who had been reactive and broken in my absence became calmer. He started eating again, walking more, resting peacefully through the night. It’s as if he understood he hadn’t been abandoned, and he’s been fighting alongside me ever since.

The same afternoon I returned, I went to VSOS. The vet told me he might have only a few months left, based on the CT images. Chi and I cried the whole afternoon. We owe him so many promised experiences: we never took him to the snow, and he hasn’t even met the little sister he’s been waiting for.

We even talked about ending his suffering. We’d seen videos of him screaming in pain, which was hard enough to watch. Seeing it in real life was a hundred times worse. It was a long, shattered evening. Yamato is everything about our relationship, and I couldn’t imagine letting him go without a fight.

I walked him around the USYD campus, our familiar route, and sat at the tennis court where he used to watch my lessons. My mind was empty, scattered: is this really the last time I’ll take these photos?

After a sleepless night, we chose hope. We borrowed money for an MRI the next day. The result was somehow hopeful: a confirmed peripheral nerve sheath tumour (two spots near the spinal, same tumour following the nerve root). The tumours haven't spread and not too big. The prognosis depends almost entirely on controlling his pain.

We are now racing against time. On 29 April, I have a consultation with a radiation oncologist, and I’m pushing to start radiation the moment he's ready to. If successful, this should shrink the tumour enough to relieve his pain. After that we can treat what remains like a chronic condition with a good lifestyle, and where possible, holistic support like acupuncture or TCM.

The plan is to start treatment here in Sydney, and once Yamato is stable enough, transfer him back to Asia (no quarantine required; I’ve already contacted a transfer agency). There, he’ll finally meet his little sister, and we’ll unite as a family again.

Why we need help

Last year since the job loss, I sold most of our household items, cancelled all insurance policies, and stretched every dollar to prepare for the pregnancy and childbirth. Now, with no safety net, I am facing medical costs I simply cannot bear anymore. I never imagined Yamato would develop a tumour, because he has always been so healthy, visiting the vet only for vaccinations. The cancelled insurance was a desperate cost-cutting measure last year; I should not have done this.

The radiation therapy alone is estimated at $5,000 per session, with a minimum of 4–5 sessions. The pet transfer to Asia will cost roughly $6,000. I’ve already spent around $10,000 on diagnostics X-rays, CT, MRI, and vet visits—leaving me in debt and unable to focus on work because I’m spending every day travelling to appointments, seeking hope.

I don’t expect anyone to fund my life, but I want to be transparent about why every dollar raised goes directly into giving him this chance to live. I’m keeping a record of every dollar and promise to donate my love back to this platform.

How The Funds Will be Used

If we can shrink the tumour and manage his pain, Yamato can enjoy many more years of fun treats, meeting other Shibas, and protecting his little sister that he's been hoping for.

I know this is a lot to ask, and I never wanted to be in a position to reach out like this. But Yamato gave me my entire world: he gave me Chi, he gave me our daughter, and we exchanged 6 years of unconditional love, accounting for more than half of my 10 years of stay in Sydney. The least I can do is fight for him with everything I have.

If you can contribute, thank you from the deepest of our hearts. If you can’t, sharing this story means more than you know. Every share, every recommendation, every kind word helps us keep going.

Let’s give Yamato the chance to play happily without pain again.

Sincerely,

Peter, Chi, and Yamato