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I adopted my little Capote from a shelter after he was rescued from major flooding in Kentucky. He was the runt of his litter and the last to be adopted, so I made it my mission to make him become the healthiest little guy I could. He was rambunctious, playful, mischievous, and absolutely loved cuddling. He was in perfect health for the six, short months I spent with him. On Christmas Eve of 2022, however, I noticed a drastic change in his demeanor; my once goofy, cheerful kitten was suddenly tired and had no interest in his toys or cuddling. I panicked, called a vet hospital for advice and was told to follow up with my primary vet after the new year simply because he was still eating and drinking, and I kick myself every day for not trusting my gut that something else was wrong. But following their advice, I took him in the first day the opened back up, and was told he only had the “common kitty cold.” But the very next day was when I came home from work to my Capote breathing rapidly and was limp when I picked him up. I immediately rushed to the closest vet hospital and that was when they told me he had wet FIP. I’ve never experienced this kind of hurt before in my life, and since his passing I have been a strong advocate for further FIP research and funding for reliable and affordable treatment to the vicious disease, as I don’t want anyone to go through what me and Capote did. There is not a day that goes by where I don’t think of him and I miss him more and more every day.
"Clocks indeed must have their sacrifice; what is death but an offering to time and eternity?" – Truman Capote

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