Help Willow Get the Urgent Care She Desperately Needs
Willow has always been a sweet, affectionate girl—playful, chatty, and full of personality. But on October 22nd, at exactly 1 year old, everything changed.
What began as what seemed like a normal heat cycle—yowling, being extra cuddly, playful, and rolling around—quickly turned into something terrifying. By October 24th, Willow began screaming whenever someone went near her or even when she tried to move. I tried to stay hopeful, telling myself these might just be unusual symptoms of heat… but something in my heart knew she was in pain.
By October 28th, she had stopped eating, drinking, urinating, and defecating. She wasn’t herself anymore—no playful pouncing, no sweet cuddles. She would hiss, cry out, and hide when touched. Terrified she might have pyometra or a blockage, I rushed her to the emergency vet. They performed a quick scan, said she likely had impending diarrhea, and sent us home with anti diarrheal
For a moment, I felt relief—she ate when we got home—but it didn’t last.
On October 30th, nothing had improved. I feared a urinary blockage because she still wasn’t using the litter box. While I was out buying new foods and high-calorie gel, she finally urinated, and the vet told me it could wait until morning. That night she ate and drank a moderate amount, and I desperately hoped we were turning a corner.
But by November 3rd, Willow had declined again—still barely eating, still screaming, still hiding, barely using the litter box. At the Animal Hospital, they did bloodwork and X-rays. Everything came back normal. The only recommendation given was to have her spayed, hoping maybe the hormones were affecting her. They gave her gabapentin, a pain medication, which knocked her out for the rest of the night.
The next day, November 4th, Willow was spayed. When I picked her up, the staff told me she had been screaming and hissing there too—they even placed caution tape on her carrier. But when I got her home… she collapsed into my arms. Exhausted. Confused. Still making those horrifying, pain-filled noises.
That night, though, something miraculous happened—she ate, she drank, she used the litter box, she even played a little. I cried with relief, thinking we finally found the solution.
But by November 5th, she was back to the same suffering.
For days afterward, nothing improved. She would eat only when encouraged, drink very little or not at all, and continue to scream, hiss, hide, and barely move. Her stools were hard, her urination sparse, and she could not return to her normal life.
On November 9th, A friend helped administer Mirataz, which boosted her appetite slightly, but the pain and behaviors never stopped.
As of November 11th, Willow is still suffering—eating only when encouraged, not drinking much, hiding constantly, crying, hissing, and unable to play, jump, or simply be Willow. So I brought her to another doctor, one that was recommended due to her experience. She said it could be back pain, possibly caused by a rare cat disease called IVDD, a bulging disk in her spine. She has been on pain medication rest and anti-inflammatories for two full weeks with no improvement and decline. Willow is now tripping over her legs and sometimes one will give out when she walks

Today November 24th. We were referred by our vet and We finally saw a surgery specialist, and we now have the terrifying confirmation that something much more serious is going on. They are recommending extensive testing, advanced imaging, and possibly surgery to figure out what is wrong and give Willow a chance to live without pain.

Why We Need Your Help
In just a few weeks, between emergency visits, diagnostics, medications, and her spay, Willow’s medical costs have already climbed far beyond what I can handle. And now, the specialist is recommending thousands of dollars in additional testing and potential surgical procedures.
But Willow is fighting.


She wants to eat.


She wants to walk.


She wants to be herself again.

And I am fighting for her—every step of the way.
If you can donate anything—even a few dollars—you’ll be helping give Willow a chance to finally get a diagnosis and the care she desperately needs. And if you can’t donate, sharing her story helps more than you know.
Willow deserves to live a life without pain. She deserves to be the sweet, young, funny, loving little soul she was before all of this started.
Thank you for reading her story. Thank you for caring. And thank you for helping us fight for Willow.
❤️ Every donation—no matter the size—brings us one step closer to giving her a future.