Saving Rocky: because headbutts are furrever.

Help Rocky Keep Battling – Our Affectionate Fighter

In 2013, my dad and I found two tiny kittens in a shed at the end of winter. We’d only planned on taking one home, but as we turned to leave, a little grey fluffball came meowing his heart out. My dad couldn’t walk away from that, so Rocky came home too.

We argued for 15 minutes on the living room floor of Aunt Lori’s apartment about how to tell my mom we had two cats instead of one. Rocky was originally named Rico (because, obviously, Rico Suave), but my dad got his way and named him Rocky—after Rocky Balboa, thanks to the way he batted at hands to get attention. He even held his own bottle of kitten milk as a baby. Of course, he’d be a fighter.

Since then, Rocky has been every kids’ favorite. Realistically though, Adrian is Rocky's favorite. He comes and reads with us every night, and lays/sleeps by Adrian's head until A falls asleep, then he comes and puts me to bed. He’s the most affectionate cat you’ll ever meet—he doesn’t just ask for love, he demands it. Headbutts, paw taps, full-on body rubs until you cave in and pet him. A pet isn’t complete until you slide your hand up his tail! He’s the definition of a snuggle bug, and he and his sister have been my constant through so much.

But now, my Rockford isn’t doing well.

Rocky’s Symptoms & What We Need

Rocky’s been throwing up frequently, and it’s getting worse. He tried to eat wet food yesterday but immediately had diarrhea, tinted red. He’s barely eating at all now. We’re heading to Urgent Care tomorrow morning at Mission Animal Hospital.

Three weeks ago, I took him to the vet. Bloodwork, gabapentin, and a nausea medicine gave him some relief, but the symptoms have returned. His prepaid vet appointment today will cover only basic care—additional tests, medications, or worst-case scenarios like end-of-life services aren’t included.

Rocky isn’t just a pet. He’s one of the last ties I have to my parents, alongside his sister Precious. His loss would be more than heartbreak—it would feel like saying goodbye to a part of my family all over again.

Truth be told, the thought of making a GFM in 2024 is nauseating. But hey, brother said no to one for my dad’s funeral, my aunt didn’t want one for my mom’s funeral but didn’t help either, SO —maybe, just maybe, it’s okay to ask for help for Rocky.

If money’s tight, I’m not above working for your generosity. I’ll trade yardwork, housecleaning, car repairs, or other odd jobs. Anything to keep my furboy comfortable.

I’m asking for $2,000–$5,000 to give Rocky the care he deserves. This will cover:

• Ultrasound testing and treatments

• Medications to manage his symptoms

• And if the worst happens, cremation and ashes so Rocky can stay close to me.

If you can’t donate, please share this with someone who might be able to. Every little bit helps.

Thank you for reading.

-Mariah & Adrian