Meet Lucy

My beloved cat Lucy will be put to sleep tomorrow, at the ripe age of 17.

These past six months have been a deeply emotional road—filled with daily medications, ultrasounds, eight vet visits, and many sleepless nights. We've shared pain, worry, and countless cuddles. Lucy has remained a trooper through it all, with her gentle presence and unshaken spirit.

Now it's time to let her go.

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Why I'm Fundraising

I'm raising **€420** to cover the cost of her home euthanasia and cremation. This will allow me to honor her life in a way that reflects the love and joy she brought into mine—and into so many others’.

This is happening tomorrow Wednesday July 23rd 2025 in the comfort of our home in Amsterdam.

€€€ With the funds raised:

A home euthanasia (€260) is more costly but anything else would be selling Lucy short - her who has felt like home to so many in hard times.

Individual cremation (€150)I will have her ashes returned to me so I can leave a bit of her behind in her favorite places, and mix her ashes with soil to grow new life in her honor—plants and flowers that will carry her spirit forward.

Life has given myself as well as Lucy a nomadic life. I don't know what the future will being but knowing I am not leaving her behind if I one day must go, makes it much more bearable.

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Lucy's Story

Lucy wasn’t just my cat. She was a nomad, a healer, a friend to everyone. She lived in nine different cities, alongside at least 40 different people—all of whom she touched with her curious eyes, her easy affection, and her quiet, comforting presence. She turned dog people into cat people, skeptics into softies. You could always find a friend in Lucy.

She was the first thing I thought of ever paying for and was responsible for, the day I turned 18. Since then, my first and forever baby has been my constant companion through every twist and turn of adulthood. Always loving. Never judging. Her undying consistency taught me unconditional love - the first I never questioned.

And Lucy has truly had nine lives.

Her story began with an ending - or so it seemed. At the height of the financial crisis in spring of 2008, a Delaware shelter faced an impossible choice after all fundings had been cut: euthanizing hundreds of kittens and cats or sterilizing them quickly to give them a chance of being taken by shelters in surrounding states. She was 8 weeks old when she was sterilized - a deeply traumatic event for her little body.

A bittersweet event which bought her a ticket to a Petsmart in Bethesda Maryland, where I found her behind a neat glass window. Sat there as she does, in the midst of the chaos, looking right up at me as if she was just waiting for me. I nursed her and the scar which extended from her genitals to her throat all across her tiny, worm-swollen kitty belly. We drove to move to Montreal the next day and she never once left my side since that day beginning of August of 2008.

Her journey had only begun.

It continued with events such as sitting on a lit candle, waxing her butt shut and needing me to cut around it so she was free to go to the kitty litter again. She once fell off third-floor scaffolding (luckily landing on the second floor). Later came a sudden allergy to animal proteins, causing daily vomiting with blood. An ultrasound meant to investigate that revealed a bladder stone, which she was operated on successfully.

In 2020, we were told to prepare our goodbyes when a tumor suddenly pushed her left eye outward overnight. It turned out to be a rare case of pus buildup, and she underwent a surreal surgery with a drain inserted through her skull to clear the infection — and she pulled through like a warrior.

The list of battles she’s faced — and won — goes on and on.

She always bounced back, each time placing full faith in me and trust in humans. No matter how hard or scary, she never gave up.

She’s grieved the loss of her older sister Bagira. She’s lived with a wild rescue Jackapoo puppy. She did all our student road trips through my twenties, as Lucy was a cat who also "summered" in Bretagne. For the past two years, she’s lived between two loving homes.

And most of all, she’s witnessed me — her lifelong caregiver — lose myself in addiction, and isolate from her after twelve years together. But she also saw me come back. And I am nothing but deeply grateful that I’ve had close to four years in recovery to show up for her again. To love her fully. To care for her with all I have. And to be here, with her, for this last stretch.

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Not Alone in This

And I haven’t walked this last stretch alone.

Lise and Jai, her co-parents, have been there in ways one could only dream of—loving Lucy and caring for her as their own. Over the past two years and especially these past six months, they’ve carried more than half the weight—emotionally, practically, wholeheartedly. Their presence has made all the difference, and Lucy felt so safe and loved because of them.

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Why I Need Help

For those who know me, you know the past year has brought one financial setback after another. I’ve been in a deep burnout for several months now, and my income has dropped to around €1,200 per month. On top of that, Lucy’s medical costs since January 2025 have already reached over €1,200.

I’ve done everything I could to carry it all, but I can’t do this last part alone.

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How You Can Help

If you’ve ever met Lucy, loved a pet, or simply want to help give her a peaceful farewell, I would be incredibly grateful for your support.

Every contribution—big or small—means the world.

With love,

Leïla & Lucy