Peter was with us for two years. He was rescued with severe and chronic stomatitis—a condition that left his mouth in terrible shape.
He could barely eat, drink, or even breathe, but despite everything, Peter was a fighter. He faced every challenge with incredible strength.
After two long years of battling his condition, Peter underwent a diode laser treatment that gave him some relief. For the first time, he was able to drink, breathe, and even eat dry food—something we never thought possible. It felt like a small miracle, and we had so much hope for him.
But Peter wasn’t a lucky cat when it came to his health. His immune system was weak, and he soon contracted mycoplasma. We treated him with antibiotics, and for a while, it seemed like he was back to his usual self. Then, two days ago, everything changed. Peter suddenly stopped eating, and we rushed him to the emergency room. His blood test results were devastating—his organs were inflamed, and his condition was critical.
We left Peter in the hospital’s care, hoping for the best. But just three hours later, Peter had fallen unconscious, and the doctors suspected he had developed dry FIP, which had attacked his brain. He was in a coma, with only his heart still beating.
He could no longer breathe on his own. The hospital tried everything, but it was clear that the end had come.
Late that night, we went to the hospital and held Peter in our arms as he was euthanized. Even if we hadn’t made that choice, removing the breathing tube would have meant he would pass immediately.
It was a sudden, heartbreaking loss for us. Peter had been so strong, surviving so many obstacles.
Losing him was one of the hardest things we’ve ever faced. The pain never lessens, no matter how many times we go through it. Peter wasn’t just any cat; he was family. Just four days ago, he was on our lap, purring.
This sudden collapse has left us in shock. We weren’t ready to say goodbye. We know Peter is in a better place now, but the shelter feels so empty without him.
We miss him terribly. Peter was part of our lives, and his absence is felt in every corner of the shelter.