My cat Carson came into my life on July 20th, 2025 from a local rescue organization in my college’s town.

To explain to you the kind of cat Carson was would be tough only because he was more than just a cat.

He was my gentle reminder to take a break when he’d loaf on my keyboard. He was my healer in times of heartache when I needed a good cry in his truffle fur. He was my little shadow, trailing me everywhere even when I was doing nothing interesting. He was my alarm clock when he was peckish, but also my own personal greeter every single time I walked through the door. He was a professional yapper and never failed to meow back whenever I posed him a question. Most importantly, he was patient, gentle, and kind. I could kiss him on the head forever or pick him up to do a silly little dance and he would not complain. He had an intuitive calm around people with special needs and made those who were usually afraid of cats feel safe around him. He would rub against your legs the same way humans greet each other with handshakes and bunt his little head against your hand requesting for head scratches like how humans exchange hugs. Clearly a king of charisma, but he was also my guiding light. For the days I didn’t feel like being here, he was my reason to get out of bed and keep going. Now he’s my little angel. I’m still trying to figure out where I can go to induct him into the emotional support animal hall of fame, but for now, telling his story will have to suffice.

He crossed the rainbow bridge on the evening of January 1st, 2026 at 2 years young. Even in his final moments, he was so selfless as to shield his pain from us, and acted completely normal and happy until his final hours when he showed us that something was definitely wrong. By the time we arrived at the ER, Carson’s illness had already progressed beyond what could be treated. We were informed that there was no treatment for the mutated form of FIP he had and were left with no choice but to say goodbye. It all happened so fast and I am still in shock.

This fundraiser is to help with the costs of his euthanasia and cremation. Any contribution is appreciated, and even if you’re not in the position to donate, reading Carson’s story and learning what he meant to me is more than enough. I hope that sharing his story can help raise awareness for increased research and funding for FIP, so treatment can become more accessible and no one else has to endure this kind of loss. Carson also showed me how powerful the bond with an emotional support animal can be and changed my life in ways I can never fully express. I also hope this sheds light on the importance of making emotional support animals more accessible and affordable for those who need them.

To my Carson:

I never knew an animal could have such a love for life until I met you. I hope you are still just as curious in heaven, as you will forever be loved on Earth. I am so grateful to the person that took your adoption pictures, making you look so derpy that I just had to go see you. I am so grateful to God for letting me give you a home where you were loved by so many and always welcomed with joy. I am so lucky to have been in the presence of one of God’s most perfect creations. I am so blessed to have been your mom in what I didn’t know would be your final months of life. Thank you for showing me that life is beautiful and that I have time. I love you endlessly.