You can SAVE my little princess. Be her Prince, Be her Fairy Godmother.

Dusty

noun

similar: talkative, habitual, old-grandma-baby, low primordial pouch, toothless.

Dusty can’t speak any English, so as her mum, I shall speak for her. My name is Jammy, and I have had the pleasure of knowing and caring for Dusty for 5 whole years—which is only 1/3 of her long, hard life. I came from a developing country, so I easily related to Dusty’s humble beginnings.

Dusty and I met in May 2021. I had just graduated highschool, packed everything I owned and relocated interstate to Melbourne, Victoria. I was depressed, gay, and completely out of my depth; and my psychologist suggested maybe I should get a cat. I didn’t need to be told twice. I was hunting for the purrfect baby whilst looking through listing in the height of COVID-19. I saw Dusty, an old, grouchy little bundle hidden under pages and pages of kittens. She had been returned, and turned away from 3 previous pet parents before me.

Dusty was too old, Dusty was too cold, Dusty was too, too, too much and not enough. And I knew exactly how she felt. I decided to meet her—only 2 weeks since arriving in my new home. I didn’t have any plans, I didn’t even have my belongings yet. But I knew I had to see her.

It was like a fairytale. I always wanted a Prince to come rescue me when I was a child—or a Fairy Godmother to magic all the struggle and pain away. But it never happened. I never got my ball, or my dress. But with Dusty—meeting Dusty for the first time? That was the most magical moment of my life. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to be the Princess in the story, maybe I was supposed to SAVE her?

Her foster family could only do so much. She lived in a small bathroom and pooped in a plastic container no bigger than a bbq foil tray. She was ashamed of not being able to poop inside her tiny box, and afraid of her foster siblings (a much younger cat, a big dog, 4 chickens, 2 rabbits, and the rest of the menagerie). She rejected affection and huddled in the corner, terrified and tired.

I saw her. And she saw me. And she tiptoed, so slowly, toward my hand and pressed the top of her little head into my palm. Like she was pleading, like she was using everything left in her to say:

‘Please take me far far away.’

And I heard her. And I did just that.

My little princess and I have been through it. The first week she was with me, I noticed she was in pain. She had a huge blockage in her colon that required surgery. ~$4000 of my life savings gone. Then every year since having her, she has needed dental surgery, which was ~$1000 - ~$2000 a year. Over 4 years. It’s been tough. I appealed to everyone’s good fortune for one of her dental procedures, and with everyone’s help: Dusty got help!

All was going well…until a couple hours ago. On 31 July 2025, Dusty was diagnosed with Hyperthyroidism.

This is what we’re working towards: curing her Hyperthyroidism. There are very few specialise clinics in Victoria which offer radiation treatment. One of these is The Hyperthyroid Cat Clinic; with a 92-95% success rate through a one-time medical miracle. She will have to board at the clinic for 7-10 days, and require a revisit a couple weeks later to check that the treatment has worked and there are no lingering traces of radiation.

Then she’ll be free again, to lounge in her castle. No worry, no pain. My little princess will be saved.

You can SAVE my little princess. Be her Prince, Be her Fairy Godmother.