I never thought I’d be writing this. My heart is breaking, and the days feel like they’re blending into one long, tear-filled blur. My best friend, my dog Peppa, is fighting for her life, and we’re doing everything we can to save her.

Peppa has been with me for 8 years. She’s not just a pet. She’s my family. My soul mate in fur. She’s seen me through heartbreak, big moves, hard lessons, and new beginnings. Always there, always loving, always wagging her tail like the world was made of sunshine, even when mine felt like it was falling apart.

On June 15th, I brought her to a small animal clinic after noticing something wasn’t right. Her energy had dropped, her behavior had changed, she wasn’t eating or drinking anymore. I knew she wasn’t okay. But the clinic failed us. They dismissed her symptoms, and despite taking tests, they never gave us the results. I waited for nearly a month, calling, checking, hoping, until I finally had to show up in person and demand the information. By then, Peppa's condition had worsened dramatically.

Now, Peppa is the one in need. After witnessing her starting to fade away, she was rushed to emergency care, where the vets have been working around the clock. As of now, they suspect she may be suffering from an aggressive form of pancreatitis that’s also affecting her kidneys and uterus. It’s serious. It’s terrifying. And it’s expensive.

We’ve been treating her every single day for over a week now; with IV fluids, antibiotics, pain management, and careful monitoring. It’s been an exhausting and emotional journey, but she’s finally starting to show signs of improvement. She’s wagging her tail again. She’s looking into my eyes with that familiar softness. That flicker of hope means everything to me.

Her care is incredibly expensive, and it’s more than I can manage on my own. I had to leave my job to be by her side full-time because she needs round-the-clock care and daily vet visits. The cost of her medications, IV fluids, diagnostic tests, daily vet visits, and ongoing treatment is rising fast. Every day we’re fighting for her, but the financial strain is becoming overwhelming. I’m doing everything I can, but I can’t do it alone.

If you’ve ever loved an animal with your whole heart, you know this pain. And if you’re able to help, even a little, it could mean the difference between despair and another miracle.

Please donate if you can. And if you can’t, please share. Help me fight for her. She’s still fighting! and I won’t give up on her.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

——

Some of the receipts, medications and other relevant documents I have on hand. Please note that we are only on day 6 of treatment, and the cost is piling up every day.

This is her infection levels (from my understanding) it should be at a maximum limit of 10,0 mg/l, but hers was 220 mg/l on the 19th of July when this test was taken.

A Peppa Update We did another round of tests on July 24th… and I can barely type through the tears — the treatment is working. Her CRP levels (which show inflammation and infection) have come down from a devastating 220 to 37. It’s still not in the clear — normal is under 10 — but that drop feels like the biggest answered prayer. Her Pancreatic Lipase levels, which showed her body fighting off pancreatitis, have gone down from 2200 to 662. The normal is 200… but again, what an incredible shift. Her liver and kidneys — two of our biggest worries — seem to be improving significantly. Maybe even fully healed. Just writing that fills my soul with gratitude. Her uterus is still under observation, but for now, we’re walking gently, step by step, guided by faith and love. We’ve been given another 5 days of treatment before her next round of tests. She’s not out of the woods yet… but I see the light returning to her eyes. I see her tail wagging, her little body resting more peacefully, her spirit returning. There were moments where I didn’t know if I’d ever feel that again. Thank you — truly, from the deepest part of my heart — to everyone who’s held her in your thoughts, prayers, and energy. Please keep holding her. Keep believing with us. This little soul is fighting with everything she’s got… and I believe in her. Miracles come quietly sometimes. I think we’re living through one now.