It's doubly painful when a soul-crushing credit card bill stands between you and the memory of your sweet family pet. That's how I'm faced with the loss of Pebbles, our precious gray and white kitty of 7 years. She left us on Valentine's Day after a week of gradual decline and two days being syringe fed. I thought she would pass away in my arms a couple of nights before but she rallied, strong girl. I struggled with taking her to the vet, praying she would eat something and get over what I hoped was just a cold.

A vet bill was just one more expense that would push our family past the tipping point. I won't go into the rest except to say that we live in an area hit hard by natural disaster in recent months and I have been unable to work due to a surgical procedure and other unforeseen circumstances. Our personal losses have been many and are at the brink of unbearable. Friends and loved ones, though we've tried to keep quiet and haven't asked for help, have recognized our struggle and helped keep us afloat. What little savings we had is gone.

Friday morning of the 14th Pebbles was wheezing pitifully. Up until then she had been comfortable, sleeping most of the time the previous two days, even purring contentedly on my lap while "Mom" was at work and I tried to keep her fed and hydrated.

How I wished to myself that she had just gone quietly in her sleep the night before.

I made calls to local vets and none could see her until after lunch. I didn't think she could make it that long and was probably right. Finally they suggested an emergency vet across town. I called and they invited me to rush her over. Half an hour later I pulled into the parking lot with her wrapped in a pair of her mom's soft pajamas in her carrier.

They met me at the door and rushed her to a table. I should have given her up and asked them to put her down but this was the precious little life that had been there for my kids as they grew up and started high school. She was always a perfect angel, spoiled and needy sometimes, but an angel of all the many nice cats I've known. Maybe if they give her an IV, I thought, maybe she can beat this.

Then came the sticker shock. Her prognosis wasn't good, but if we were going to do anything to save her they would need to get a triage team working on her, try to clear her lungs and stabilize her in order to make a diagnosis. Would I sign off on the sizeable deposit to let them go to work on her? I was on the spot, I was frazzled. I had just driven frantically across town telling myself the whole time, "We can't spend money on a dying cat," with my hand on her in the seat beside me, knowing full well I would do whatever it took to give her one last chance to stay with us.

I signed off. Without hesistation or a thought of where the money would come from, I reached for my wallet and credit card.

An hour later the news was not good. She had an infection that likely come from an encounter with another animal. She was a part-time outdoor cat and, while it wasn't rabies, the doctor said the bacterial infection which had brought her so low probably came from a bite or scratch even weeks before which had healed. Had the fluid drained from her lungs been different it may have indicated cancer or heart disease and they might be able to give her a few more months. In this case the lungs were filling up with pus. She was in septic shock.

It cost more than two thousand dollars to find that out. It would have cost $7,500-$10K to hospitalize her for 3 days with maybe a 10% chance of survival. Those odds and that expense were insurmountable. I broken-heartedly, tears in my eyes, admitted that there was no way we could afford it. She was such a sweet friend, but her time had come. I picked her up in my arms for the last time and carried her to the room where they help them die quickly and without the pain she would suffer if I took her home to wait out the inevitable.

I keep hitting myself over the head for being an old softie. IF I had gone in that door knowing, admitting, that euthanasia was all we could afford to do for her, I would have brought her home and buried her in the back yard just the same. I gambled an expense we couldn't afford on the remote chance that she could be saved.

I hope you can feel the sincerity of this. I write it with a painful tug at my own heart-strings knowing anyone who has been there has felt it too. I have never asked for charity like this but I have never had a vet bill I couldn't manage on my own. I have managed to put some money toward it but, with only one household income for the forseeable future and bills coming at us from all sides, I just want to pay off this credit card so that it isn't the last memory I have of our precious Pebbles. She was so very good!

Prayers are welcome. Your tears take the place of a few of ours. Even if we don't pay off the debt with this campaign, I feel better having told the story of an absolutely darling cat who showed and shared so much love these last years.

Thank you, friend,

Vance Pollock & family