I was talking to my friend Jess the other day about how I wanted to keep this blog updated with stuff, but the primary focus of this blog is irrelevant now. It’s been over a year since Phoenix died, and the rest of my cats have (thankfully) exhibited no signs of FIP. I still keep up-to-date on the FIP news, and even yesterday I got hits on this blog from people trying to find out more information on the virus and polyprenyl immunostimulant study. But as it’s not the focus of my daily life anymore, I’ve been at a loss to write in here.

But I do still have cats with me. Five wonderful, beautiful, destructive, hilarious, bratty cats (can’t you tell how much I love them?). Five cats including Felix who, for some reason, did not develop FIP. And they get into adventures, and I love talking about them. So this blog’s new focus will just be them and the crazy stuff I have to put up with. Okay? Okay. Adventures of a crazy cat lady! I might also write about the adventures I go through at work, because dog walking is sometimes just as entertaining.

This week has been all sorts of weird. Serenity, the normally mellow one of the group, has gone on a destructive rampage. First, she tore her “indestructible” collar in half (I love their lifetime guarantee, and their products are great, by the way!). Then she broke her food bowl. Then knocked over a stack of 25+ records that I had on my kitchen table. But on the other hand, she’s been a lot more cuddly than usual, I have to point out as she just came over and laid down on my arm. She’s probably trying to stop me from telling the world what a hellion she’s been! Also, tomorrow’s her third birthday (!!) so she can get away with it, I guess.

On the complete opposite end of the spectrum, there’s Felix. Sometime in the last couple of months, Felix finally passed over from being considered “human-curious feral cat” to “shy but socialized cat”. It’s not much of a difference, to be honest, but it’s enough. She follows me from room to room and watches all my movements. She cuddles with me at night. Before, she used to cuddle with Avocado and Serenity at my feet but now she’s been abandoning them in favor of sleeping alone by my hip. She still spends a lot of time with them, so there hasn’t been a fight amongst them that caused her to seek out other sleeping arrangements. She used to wait until I was asleep to make this move, but now she does it right when everyone piles into bed for the night. And she lets me pet her once she’s settled in. She’s still nervous about sudden movements, and a little hand shy (she’s much more wary of my left hand, for some reason), but we’ve come to an understanding. If I move slowly, and keep away from the top of her head/neck (she still doesn’t want to be grabbed), we can have a good petting session that has, at one time, lasted over ten minutes! We also play a lot, her favourite game is “mouse under the blankets” in which she attacks my hand. We played that for about a half hour the other day. I don’t know if she’ll ever be like my other cats, screaming at me for attention most hours of the day, but this is good enough for me.

Ah, and speaking of screaming for attention… we have Ender. Poor Ender has developed allergies to the food I was feeding them, to the point where she licked off most of her fur in some spots. So I switched everyone to a hypo-allergenic food and she has the ecollar of shame on. I just put it on her last night, so she’s definitely still trying to get the hang of it, as she’s never had to wear one before in her entire life, so she’s been spending a lot of time walking into things and constantly missing the jump onto her favourite perching spot, a very narrow shelf. Ender’s always been the drama queen of the family so I’m finding much more amusement in it than when Avocado had to wear an ecollar (and of course, she’s not in pain and didn’t just have half her tail amputated, so there’s that). I woke up in the middle of the night last night and saw that she was trying to cuddle with Avocado and Serenity, but her ecollar was totally jabbing itself into Serenity’s face. Serenity, like the patient mother that she is, just put up with her daughter’s nonsense.

Not much has been going on with Avocado and Ginny. Despite the two feet of snow outside, Ginny’s been enjoying going outside for walks on her leash or, at the very least, sitting on top of my shoulder as we walk around. She hated being shut in all winter and was definitely getting cabin fever, so this is helping. She still tries to steal my pillow at night, though. And Avocado… well, I think he wants new foster kittens now that Felix is pretty much grown up now, but he’s not getting any for a while. But Avocado is still wonderful and amazing and just came over for attention so I should go give him some.

A little over a year ago, I took in four feral kittens to foster, socialize and adopt out. I didn’t know the levels of joy and heartbreak that would come later. When I took them in, I was literally saving their lives. They had been rescued from a factory where the workers were killing all the feral cats, literally bashing them in the head with bricks and pipes. We didn’t manage to save all the kittens. One, we lost while at the vet, his body was so badly mangled. He had a broken spine and partly crushed head. But we saved as many as we could. This litter that found its way to my home, and eventually my heart, was doomed to this fate if we hadn’t stepped in.

All was well for a couple of weeks. Then, the night of August 15th, I went to feed the kittens and saw that Regulus was very unresponsive and dehydrated. We rushed him to the emergency vet but after hours of trying to hydrate him and taking tests, he still had no response and we were losing him. The vet thought he had distemper (panleukopenia) or FIP (he tested “positive” to both, but the tests aren’t 100% accurate of saying that a cat has it…) At around five o’clock in the morning, after being there since before midnight, I made the difficult decision. We helped him pass on to the Rainbow Bridge.

Distemper is highly contagious and extremely deadly, so as soon as we got back from the vet, we set out on disinfecting my entire apartment. We scrubbed everything, all day. I watched the other kittens for signs of sickness for weeks, since distemper can have an incubation period for up to ten days. But time passed, and everything was fine. I thought we were in the clear. But then Phoenix got mysteriously sick. Then he got better. Then he got sick again. And better. He truly was a phoenix, dying and rising from the ashes over and over. But he had FIP. The day I went to the vet with him and got that diagnosis, I said that my heart was breaking. And it was. It did. Phoenix was my special little kitten, he had always been social and friendly and adored the other cats and me. When we went to the vet in early November, when I was told that he had FIP, I hadn’t been expecting that diagnosis. I thought maybe something bad, yes, but not a disease that is 100% fatal. Still, we fought for his life. We fought so hard that, despite a really bad prognosis at the beginning of November, I gave him three more months of quality life and happiness. He died on January 26th, much later than anyone expected, and he enjoyed every moment until the very last morning.

And then, there was Tetris, his other brother. Tetris died of wet FIP (Phoenix had dry, wet is much quicker and most cats don’t survive a week once it develops), and I never even knew he was sick. He died while I was home for Christmas, visiting family and friends. I never got to say goodbye to him. He was Phoenix’s buddy, always, and I’m pretty sure that his death is what caused Phoenix’s final FIP attack.

It’s going to be a long time before I find the strength to foster kittens again. I went through a lot of heartbreak with these kittens. But Felix survived. I have watched her, in the past year, grow and explore and survive. A year ago, she was just a scared, homeless little kitten. Now she has personality, she has a will of her own, and she has a family who loves her. Felix, whose full name is Felix Felicis, liquid luck. She sure is lucky. They were all lucky, to have been given the chance to live a peaceful life in a nice home, even if that was only for a few weeks, for Regulus, or a few months. And Felix is very lucky to still be here. I think she knows a little of how lucky she is; when she looks at me I can see it. And I’m very grateful to have her. I decided months ago, shortly after Phoenix died, that Felix would never be leaving me, that nobody else would adopt her (aside from the fact that she’s pretty unadoptable anyway). That would be too much for my heart. So I’m glad that she’s officially here to stay. Nothing has changed, other than the fact that she’s no longer a foster. She was living here before, I loved her before, and she was part of the family. But now it’s official. She’s healthy and adorable, happy and safe. And not leaving.

On a side note, tomorrow is Avocado’s fourth (!!) birthday, and the 7th was Ginny’s three year anniversary of her adoption. So it’s a big week for us, and we have plenty of reason to celebrate! I’ll always keep Regulus, Tetris and Phoenix in my heart, but I’m so glad that the rest of my cats are okay.

A couple of weeks ago, Cheryl and I went down to Oklahoma City with a stop in St. Louis. St. Louis is like my home away from home; we go there a lot, Cheryl’s from there, and a lot of the people I love in the wizard rock community live there. I’ve considered, many times over, moving there (I’ve already looked at shelters to work at once I’ve received my degree), but for now have to settle with visiting a lot. Anyway, I’m convinced that St. Louis is a magical place for me (maybe because of all the Harry Potter freaks who live there, but the pun wasn’t intended). We spent two nights in St. Louis. After the first night, I woke up surprised to find that I had actually slept. A lot. It was 11:30am and I had gotten almost ten hours of sleep! Wow! Amazing, considering I’d been living off of 2-4 hours of sleep a night for the past month.

The next night, I didn’t sleep as much due to my excitement of the coming trip, but I did fall asleep for a few hours. In that time, I had a dream of Phoenix running through a field, playing with a group of six or seven other kitties. He looked so happy and healthy. I know, without a doubt, that I was seeing him at the Rainbow Bridge. I’ve never experienced anything like this (the only event in my life that caused me this much heartache was when my father died, but I never dreamed anything similar). Phoenix is back to playing and enjoying himself. And I was able to witness that, which is something that I’m extremely grateful for.

Since then, I haven’t had trouble sleeping and my life has been going a lot better (a lot. It’s kind of amazing how my life has turned around completely in the last couple of weeks). I no longer feel overwhelmed by Phoenix’s death. He’s released me from any potential guilt, and now it’s just my job to look over his sister. I’m moving on with my life. I still miss him, and even writing this post has caused me to tear up more than once, but I know that everything’s going to be alright.

Speaking of his sister, Felix is turning into an absolutely gorgeous young adult. Because of the heartbreak with the litter, her mistrust of anyone except me, and my penchant for black kitties with sob stories… I really don’t want her to be adopted, ever. Unfortunately, however, I do have to think realistically, and realistically I can’t keep a fifth cat. But it’s going to be a very sad day for me when she gets adopted. I’m trying to find a close friend who will take her in so I’ll still get to see her all the time. Any takers?

FIPCatSupport – The FIP support group is first and foremost. Like all of these sites (that I know of, at least), it’s put together and run by people who have lost cats to FIP. Although I’m sure that doing such work daily is heartbreaking, they never waver in their mission to provide information, options and comfort to others. Through them, I learned a lot of important information. I never would have learned about the PI study if it hadn’t been for this group.

SOCK FIP – Save Our Cats and Kittens from Feline Infectious Peritonitis is a group that’s working on raising awareness of FIP and funding research to help stop it. Their website has lots of information, related to the research going on at UC Davis, to what precautions to take if you’re a shelter or rescue group (as you can imagine, I’ve spent a lot of time reading that).

Sass and Sass – Not a direct link to the study, but this is the company that’s working on the PI. If you poke around the website you’ll find the contact information for Dr. Legendre, the vet coordinating the study.

Dr. Addie – Dr. Addie has been doing a lot of valuable research on FIP. On her website, you’ll find a wealth of information, like how to most accurately diagnose FIP (for vets), how to prevent spread of the coronavirus as much as possible and updates on research. This is definitely a webpage that I’d recommend checking out if your cat has just been tentatively diagnosed with FIP.

Steve Dale’s Pet World – A writer for the Chicago Sun-Times website, he seems to be the only person who ever mentions FIP in the news world. He’s pretty up to date on his information of FIP, PI and other treatment options. His column is usually just Q&A, although he’s done some interviews with Dr. Legendre, Dr. Pedersen, and others working on FIP research.

Winn Feline Foundation – A group that provides funds to research on FIP and other feline diseases, they also provide information and support to cat guardians.

You can also check out a lot of things on Facebook, of course. I don’t know about Steve Dale, but everything else mentioned here has a group or fan page (Sass & Sass has a fan page for Polyprenyl Immunostimulant).

And last but definitely not least, my vets at Jewell Animal Hospital has been amazing through this entire thing. They always let me know exactly what was going on, and they were willing to help participate in the PI study even though they hadn’t heard of it. A good vet can turn an experience like this to one of slightly less horror, because at least we know that we did everything we could. That is invaluable to me. As a side note, I really think I should get some benefits from them, because I tell everyone how amazing they are and I’ve had at least five friends switch to them because of my praise. ;)

I’m sure that there are a bunch of websites I’ve been to in the last three months that I’m forgetting, but I have a habit of not bookmarking anything, and most of it’s on my old MacBook that’s currently not turning on (got the new one just in time!) so this will have to do. These are the main ones that I’ve been frequenting for information and support, and they’ll most likely point you to any other place you need.

I just wanted to show how special, what a fighter, Phoenix was. Most of this was taken in January after I got my new camcorder, and I wish I had more footage of him just being a normal, playful kitten, but I still think that it shows his personality in a great and honest way. See how happy I was on the day he came into my life? And look at how devoted he was to Avocado!

I’m still very sad about his death, but the memories are starting to turn to happy ones. Phoenix was, when all is said and done, a very happy kitten and I gave him the best life he could have, under the circumstances. He and his siblings were rescued from a factory, where the workers were beating the feral cats with rocks, their feet, whatever they could. I don’t know the exact count, but this past summer we rescued at least five litters of feral kittens (I’m inclined to say more than that) from brutal, senseless deaths. One of the kittens we tried to rescue had such horrible injuries, broken back among them, that we had to euthanize him; there was no hope. The love I gave Phoenix, Regulus and Tetris was certainly better than the violence they faced there. And next summer, if we’re facing the same thing, you know I’ll be right there again (provided there’s very little risk of the kittens getting FIP from my cats. Believe me, everyone plans on getting titer tested before bringing more cats in). This was the hardest, most heart-breaking thing I’ve had to go through in my entire adult life, and I certainly don’t want to repeat it, but I’m not going to stop rescuing kittens who need it just because of one bad experience (believe me, this is a decision I’ve struggled with for a few months now).

In sibling news, Felix is doing wonderfully and becoming more adorable every day. She’s a big fan of chirping as she runs around my bedroom (I believe that she’s part Maine Coon). She’s still skittish, but she has a very kitten-like curiosity that sometimes gets the best of her shyness. She waits until she thinks I’m asleep to show any affection towards me, but it’s there all the same. I have some beautiful pictures of her to share with everyone, but they’ll have to wait. Right now, I should be on my way to work!

So, what happened. As I wrote on Monday, we went to the vet and Phoenix wasn’t looking too good, but seemed even better than lately as soon as we got home. But Monday night, after feeding him, he started having small seizures, and they lasted off and on for about an hour. It was the most scary part of his sickness, up to that point. They eventually stopped, and I watched him for a few hours before finally going to sleep myself. I woke up in the morning to find Phoenix completely unresponsive. I don’t think he even slept at all that night, to be honest. He had no interest in food, which was a first for him. He wouldn’t even just swallow the food when I syringed it into his mouth. He just laid in my lap, not moving. That’s when I knew that it was time. I laid back down in bed, curled around him, for about an hour, crying.

Then I called Emelda (she was almost on her way out the door to go to work), she came downstairs and sat with me while we waited for Angie to come give us a ride to the vet. Emelda called the vet and they said we could come in whenever. Eventually Cheryl woke up and got my texts, so she came down too. We just all sat on my bed, petting Phoenix and crying, until Angie came. By the time she got here, it had been a couple hours of Phoenix doing absolutely nothing, and there was no doubt in my mind that what we were going to do was the right thing.

We went to the vet, and everyone was very nice but very sad (I’m very close to my vet’s staff, especially after this ordeal with Phoenix, and they were all rooting for him to beat the odds). The four of us went into “the room” (I don’t even know what to call it, but if you’ve ever had to help a cat pass, you know what room I’m talking about), and we sat there for a while, talking and crying and even laughing. A word of advice, if you ever find yourself in this situation, don’t go by yourself. Bring as many people as you can. It’s the only thing that makes it bearable, I swear. I’m so glad that my best friends in Chicago were able to be there with me. Emelda took care of arranging everything, talking to the vet tech and receptionist and everything, which I’m so grateful for. At that moment, I was barely processing anything. I knew it was the right thing to do, but I had no ability to make any further decisions. She arranged to pick Phoenix up after a necropsy was done (part of the PI study’s requirements) so we could bury him in the backyard with Pickles and Tetris (Regulus unfortunately isn’t there, as we couldn’t risk bringing a very infectious disease back to the house).

At one point, the vet tech came in and told us a story about Phoenix. Remember when we got his blood drawn in December, and he bit two of the vet techs? One was this one (I think her name is Sarah, but I could be totally wrong on that. I’m awful with names), so she told us about it from her point of view, about what a fighter he was. He took a whole chunk out of her finger, and she couldn’t use it for about two weeks after. That made us all smile and laugh. That’s how I want to remember Phoenix: the fighter, the brat, the adorable kitten.

Dr. Mitchell came in after leaving us alone for a while. I had been holding Phoenix for a few hours straight at this point, except when the vet tech took him to put an IV in, and he hadn’t made any movements at all. But when Dr. Mitchell moved close to help him pass, Phoenix just kind of sighed, and he tucked his head in like he was going to take a nap. That’s when I knew, he knew and was telling me that he was ready, he was done fighting. Dr. Mitchell helped him, and we eventually left, crying and without Phoenix.

I know that it was the right thing, and I gave Phoenix the best chance that any kitten in his situation could have had, but a 100% (or what, 99.9999999% because 3 cats have survived total?) fatality rate is very hard to beat. We both put up a really good fight for a lot longer than was expected, and I gave him everything I could. He had an excellent life in the short time that he was with me (if we hadn’t rescued him and his siblings, they probably would have been beaten to death… did I ever mention that?). But this still hurts, and it’s still hard to deal with. I’ve been a wreck for the past week, not sleeping and having dreams about Phoenix when I do. I burst into tears at random. Even though I’ve been “cured” for quite a few years now, I’ve been showing my manic depressive tendencies again (yes, I know there’s no actual cure for depression, and I know this is normal to happen at times like this). Sometimes people might be looking at me and thinking, I don’t look sad that Phoenix died at all. But they just don’t understand the cycles that my mood goes in. I’m leveling out now, thankfully, but it was a rough week.

We buried Phoenix and Tetris on Saturday. It was a short, simple burial ceremony. I laid them to rest together, cuddling ying and yang style, because they were always buddies from day one (Tetris’ passing is what I think brought on Phoenix’s last attack). Emelda dug a cute heart-shaped hole for them, and I read a poem in their memory.

Weep not for me though I am gone into that gentle night.
Grieve if you will, but not for long upon my soul’s sweet flight.
I am at peace, my soul’s at rest
There is no need for tears.
For with your love I was so blessed.
For all those many weeks.
There is no pain, I suffer not,
The fear now all is gone.
Put now these things out of your thoughts,
In your memory I live on.
Remember not my fight for breath
Remember not the strife.
Please do not dwell upon my death,
But celebrate my life.

This entry has gone on pretty long (understandably, but still) so I’m going to end it soon. I just wanted to let everyone know that things are getting better. I’m starting to sleep again, and I’m not crying as much, and I’ve been going out and having fun every once in a while. I now have more time for Felix, the lone survivor of the litter, and she’s becoming absolutely adorable (and social, finally). The fear of FIP hasn’t gone away, as it’s still possible that someone will develop it (although unlikely with at least everyone except Felix). But we’re doing the best that we can.

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together….

This is an old Norse legend that’s pretty popular among parents and guardians of animals. For those of you who don’t know me too well, I’m not very religious and have a hard time believing in concepts like Heaven and Hell, even though I’ve tried pretty much my entire life (it’s an ongoing struggle)… but the Rainbow Bridge is one thing that I can, without a doubt in my mind, believe in. I always have. Now Phoenix is there, playing with his brothers Tetris and Regulus, and meeting my old cats Feather and Prince and all the kittens of people on the FIP support list (yeah, that sentence isn’t exactly grammatically coherent… bear with me, here).

This blog isn’t done, though. I have a few things in mind. First, writing this has been extremely cathartic these past few months, as I struggled to make sense of what FIP was and what our options were. It’s also been very informative to a number of people, as I’ve gotten a lot of private messages thanking me for the information. Second, I still have a bit of Phoenix’s story to tell… how he came into my life exactly, how I saved him from an even more horrible end and how he stole my heart from the beginning… and his last, final day here. I’m not sure I’m ready to write that all down right now, but eventually.

Phoenix’s sister, Felix Felicis, still survives and, to all appearances, is absolutely healthy. I’ll be updating about her until she gets adopted. And I’m staying on the FIP group, to lend support to other people who find themselves facing those dreaded words, to give information, and to gather even more information and spread it around for more of the world to know. I don’t claim to know much about veterinary medicine, but I do know a lot more about FIP, testing and diagnosing, and treatment than I knew four months ago, and more than a lot of other people ever find out. I want to help other people, so they hopefully won’t have to face what I went through in the future.

I’m going through all my files of the past six months to find pictures of Phoenix, so expect a mass upload to flickr sometime in the coming days. I have a few other things in mind, but don’t know when they’ll come about so I’m not going to mention them.

When I get spare money again, I’m going to be donating a large chunk to Dr. Legendre, who has been conducting the PI treatment, in hopes that we can find a cure for FIP soon. I still have hope in the PI, I think we just got it for Phoenix too late. We spent a lot of money on trying to help Phoenix, both of my own and of the rescue’s, so it’s going to take some time to recover those expenses (in my opinion, it was totally worth it. He got a couple extra months of quality life that he wouldn’t have had otherwise). I, for one, have no idea how I’m paying February’s rent in a few days… but I’ll bounce back, I always do.

Now, if only I could get rid of this headache from all the crying I’ve been doing all day, I’d be able to start on some of these things.

All weekend, Phoenix was acting pretty normally (for him). No improvements, but no backpedaling either. Then last night, after I fed him his first dinner, he started doing a weird shake with his head, like he was in pain. It lasted on and off for about five minutes, and then it stopped. When I fed him later, it happened again, only this time it lasted a lot longer. I mean, at least an hour, on and off. It was so scary that I didn’t get to sleep until after 4am because I just kept watching him (I wrote a poem in the meantime, which is posted right below this).

So, this morning was the vet visit. My friend Angie drove me, because I don’t have a car and also because I can’t get through another bad vet visit by myself. I’m so thankful that she came today. And just so you know, Phoenix HATES the vet and never acts like his typical self there. He’s the only one of my cats who hates the vet. The others love or at least tolerate the trip. So that’s something to keep in mind.

With just a little poking and prodding by Dr. Mitchell, his gums started bleeding a lot, and a bit of his canines started falling apart! Obviously, this is very concerning. But my vet was even more concerned about how Phoenix otherwise appeared. He was very unresponsive, not even reacting when his temperature was taken or anything. He pretty much just laid in the same spot for the entire visit. My vet had another talk with me that, if he continues like this for the next couple of days with no improvement, we’re really going to have to consider putting him to rest. Not the first time we’ve had this talk, and Phoenix always bounces back (I think he gets a kick out of proving us wrong), but I have to admit that my hopes weren’t very high at that moment either. We gave him some sub-Q fluids to help combat his dehydration, expressed his bladder, and got another round of antibiotics.

And then I came home, and what does Phoenix do? Oh, he gets right up and *walks over to Avocado*! He hasn’t walked in I don’t know how long! It didn’t last very long, as he still can’t keep his balance, but it was something! And now, even though I’m trying to get him to nap, his legs keep moving like he wants to walk some more.

We’re going to give him sub-Q fluids at home and see if that continues to help (I don’t know how to do it, but a few of my friends do and I can learn from them). I fed him after the vet visit and he didn’t do his head shaking thing again today. So hopefully, the cleaning that they did in his mouth helped with that.

So, at this point, outlook doesn’t look too good but it looks a heck of a lot better than it did at the vet office. Like I said (and my vet knows this), he acts way differently there than at home. Right now, Felix is running around the bed chirping, and just the sound of his sister caused him to wake up and look around for her.

Today was day five of the PI. I’m curious to know how long it took for other cats to show improvement from it, and how bad they were before starting it. I really want Phoenix to get better, but I’m prepared for that not happening. I’m just wondering, at what point should I make that judgment? It’s a tough decision to make.

Many days, I sit here and cry, begging him to get better.
Many nights, I pray, and that’s not something I take lightly.
Many times, I keep the bad developments to myself, not wanting to make them more real.
Many weekends, social engagements have been turned down in favor of sitting at home, watching over him.
Many of my own wants and needs are sacrificed to make sure that he has everything he needs.

Every unexplainable convulsion terrifies me.
Every day that he can’t walk or even lift his head worries me.
Every new symptom finds me online, looking up reasoning.
Every new bad sign means that a little part of me dies.

With every good sign, though, I cry tears of joy and tell everyone I know.
With every improvement, no matter how small, I have hope.
With every encouraging message I receive, I remember that I have a lot of support.
With every look into his eyes, I see his desire to keep fighting and I know that he’s counting on me.

Every time I’ve laughed or cried in the last month has been because of him.
Every minute of my day has been spent thinking about him, researching for him, fighting for him.
Every new day is a worry, an opportunity, a miracle.

Every moment that I get to spend with him is a gift.

The bad news? My vet office isn’t equipped for the high-detail ultrasound that we need to get done, so we’re going to have to bring Phoenix to a specialist out in the suburbs. And that ultrasound is going to cost about $400. I just got off the phone with Emelda, in which I learned that the rescue has $200 that we can put towards the ultrasound, but we need to come up with the rest. And as we need to get this ultrasound done pretty soon (probably the Monday after next), we need to come up with that money pretty quickly.

I’d pay the rest myself, but I’m currently on an extremely tight budget at the moment, as my job is ending next week and I don’t get next quarter’s loan money until mid-March. So, this is where you come in. If you could donate any amount of money towards the ultrasound, that would be immensely helpful! I’m also offering a deal: if you choose, especially if you can’t afford to just give that money away, I will refund you your donation when I get my loan money in March (before then if another research job comes in before then and I start getting regular paychecks again), or I will donate it to another charity of your choice (provided that charity doesn’t harm other animals, of course). All you have to do is click the sidebar on your right that has a link to my paypal, and you can write your wishes (donation, refund, give to another charity in March) in the accompanying box or email me with them (a box *should* come up, but if it doesn’t, email!).

Time is of the utmost importance, so if you could spread this among friends, family, coworkers, local cat ladies… all would be helpful.

(Hmm, in other charity news, make sure to turn into Helping Haiti Heal tomorrow! My friends have put a lot of work into this and it’s going to be great.)

As an update on Phoenix, I have good news. I came home from work to find that he had moved spots and positions on the bed! That means that he was trying to move around! He didn’t get very far, but it’s something, more than he’s accomplished on his own in a long time. He was also whining when I walked in, but it turns out that he just wanted attention (he started purring the second I picked him up). Then I fed him a bunch of food, which he ate all of, and now he’s starting to fall asleep for his post-snack nap. He still seems to be in pain, but right now it also seems pretty manageable for him. So let’s hope this is a sign that his body’s starting to get over the withdrawal.

Anyway, that’s all I have for tonight, so please consider helping out with his medical fees. They’re going to a good cause, I promise!