Help with Artie's Emergency Small Intestine Surgery

My name is Jasmine, and I am raising money to pay for my cat Artie, who had an unexpected surgery.

I adopted Artie over a year ago, and the day I brought him to the ER, he turned a year and four months old. He had been puking consistently for over 24 hours; on top of his refusal to eat and drink water during that time, his puke was what looked to be only stomach acid and blood. I had set the earliest vet appointment for him three days away, but after monitoring him for a day, it was clear Artie would not make it to day three. When I brought him to the ER, an X-ray and bloodwork showed that he had a linear blockage in his small intestines and a low white blood cell count. It is common for linear blockages to rupture the small intestine and cause an infection. The doctor asked if paying for a $10,000 surgery upfront was possible because it would need to be immediate.

Without this surgery, Artie would not have lived to see another day.

It is midnight, and my friend and I rush to make phone calls to see if we can raise $10,000 to get Artie through the night. For that, I am incredibly thankful that a friend agreed to cover the cost with their credit card. The surgery bill came out to $9,630, not including the emergency care and tests prior, which were over $1,300.

Along with asking for such a big charity, I wanted to share our story: I am Artie's mother. I graduated from college this past August. Like the many other suffering graduates this year, I have endured trials and tribulations. Among these trials, the most difficult decision I made was staying in America, even at the cost of all financial support. I had built a life here, and as more and more of my beloved friends moved home, I couldn't help but feel as if I was truly all alone, and I would've been if it weren't for Artie.

Artie is an ordinary cat, just like I am an ordinary kid. I'd love to say that Artie has brought nothing but joy to my life, but that is not true. On a good day, Artie tests my patience a handful of times. He likes to put his whole arm in open bags of rice. He likes the carpet more than his scratching post. He yells at me when he can't reach a shadow on the ceiling. Artie is obsessed with eating strings, and that's why he's still in the hospital, as I am writing. Still, he has to live with me, and I know I can be unbearable, too. I brought Artie to the beach the first day I had him; a seagull could've taken away the poor little soul. I've accidentally kicked or stepped on him countless times. I sing terribly in my room, and Artie has to sit there and listen. I made us live paycheck to paycheck, and the night he got sick, I was at work.

Artie taught me about love. In our house, Artie has not one but two cat trees: one in the living room that I bought off of Facebook Marketplace and a brand new one I came home to, built in the room of the only man who is also allergic to cats. The day before, I came home to a water fountain I also did not buy. It was because Artie liked the water flowing in the fish tanks, so someone had gotten his own. Artie is incredibly loved through all his quirks and inconveniences. By the end of this month, Artie will have health insurance, and I will not. There are days when Artie has food in the fridge and I do not, and that is because I also love Artie through all his quirks and inconveniences. I know love exists because Artie is full of it, just the way he is. So, Artie has to come home; he has to come home because I promised to give us a great life, and none of it would matter if the one sitting through my tears every night didn't make it to see the fruits of my labor.

I know I can get us through this trying time, and everything will be okay if I can get Artie home.