Three nights, two bullets, one miraculous cat

TW: brief mention of violence against animals

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June 28, 2025, is a day my husband and I will never forget.

We left our Alaska home for a one-night trip to go camping. We were leaving our three cats safe and cozy at home with one of our dogs as well. I hired a dog sitter to stop in a few times to feed and walk him, as well as check on the cats. When we left, they were curled up together in the sunlight, happy, loved, and safe. We were ready to have a nice little break for just a night, away from all the hubub.

But when we returned early that Friday afternoon, my husband pointed out something as we pulled in.

The fence gate was wide open. We grew silent. My husband had made it only a few steps into the backyard and immediately froze.

"The bike is gone."

Our $2,000 Himiway electric bike, his main way to get to work, run errands, and stay independent, was gone. We had totalled our only car in January. Insurance issues left us without a vehicle until May, but we had our bike. While we still share a car, the bike is how we could juggle off schedules for commuting to work. They didn’t just steal a bike; they took his freedom and our sense of security.

Inside, we noticed the bedroom window was cracked open, the screen tossed aside and laying flat on the ground. Someone had tried to get in. Unfortunately for them, they chose the door to our dogs' room. While the scene wasn't bloody, our remaining dog must have deterred a full on break in. It appeared things thankfully weren't disturbed inside.

The dog was excited, nearly jumping the gate of his room to greet us and reunite with our other pup. One of the cats chirped nearby, rubbing against my legs. Another cat stretched lazily, coming down his post on the cat tree. We brought in our items and settled in, unpacking our overnight bags and such.

It took a while to notice despite being home for some time, one of our cats had not greeted us. We grew tense when she didn't come out at the sound of kibble being poured into her bowl.

We tore the house apart searching for her, only to come to the grave revelation:

Princess, our gentle, blue-eyed brown and white Ragdoll girl, was missing.

Our two male cats slept peacefully under the bed. But Princess, our brave, endlessly curious girl, was nowhere. She must have escaped through the screenless window the night or morning before we arrived.

We adopted Princess from a family who could no longer care for her. I vowed to take good care of her, surprising my husband with the two-year-old kitten. She is our youngest and only female cat. From the day she came home, she has followed us around the house like a little shadow, curling up in our laps, greeting us with soft meows and those big blue eyes. She is gentle and almost melts into your arms holding her, living up to her breed.

We searched everywhere, calling her name into the trees and under the porch. We left food out, prayed, and waited through three of the longest, most gut-wrenching nights of our lives.

Finally, on the third morning, we heard a faint, broken cry under the back porch. My husband crawled beneath and pulled Princess out, covered in dust and dried blood, shaking, and barely alive.

We struggled to find a vet, our hands trembling the whole time. She was limp, her eyes vacant. We finally arrived at a small rural hospital after I called in a favor from a friend who worked for the vet.

After admission, we performed blood testing, X-rays, and whatever other tests, palpations, and scans they had to do.

The X-rays surprised us and immediately made me tear up in horror: she had been shot with something, and there was still several pieces of metal in her body. One was buried in her back leg, close to her hip. Another was closer to her chest, but on her flank. Her paws were abraded as if she had been running or she got stuck. And she had several scratches on her face. She had not eaten in too long and her vitals suggested she was approaching shock if she wasn't already there.

The vet stated that the pellet wounds seemed several hours old, possibly from the night before. The scratches and abrasions weren't as great of a concern. We waited. And waited.

They then gave us a choice: try to save her, or say goodbye peacefully.

When we walked into the treatment room, Princess saw my husband and weakly tried to crawl toward him, giving a weak cry through her pain and the medicine. In that moment, I knew. We would do anything to fight for her life.

✨Our fight for Princess

We signed for emergency surgery without knowing how we’d possibly pay. But there was never a question. Princess was family, and we wanted her to have a fair chance.

Miraculously, through 1 surgery and 3 days in patient, she recovered well. The metal pellets, seemingly from a pellet gun, missed any vital organs or arteries. After several days inpatient, somehow, her spirit carried her through. The scrapes and cuts have been healing, her vitals are stable and strong, and her fur is in the very beginning stages of growing back over her shaved spots.

Now she’s home, swaddled in blankets, her little leg and flank bandaged, trying to heal. Even now, she still tries to purr and reach for us, as if to comfort us too.

We’re facing over $4,500 in vet bills already, with more possible if her leg doesn’t heal properly, or if it gets infected. At the same time, we lost my husband’s new bike, his only affordable way to get to work and buy groceries. We were already living paycheck to paycheck, stretching every dollar to cover rent, food, medical expenses, and student loans. I have had to sacrifice paying for my prescription to pay for hers, relying on the small store of medications I take. Food has been scarce as well.

As long as we have a home, food, and water for us and the animals, I am content. We have learned to be conservative in our consumption, and work more hours to make the difference.

After all of this, we feel heartbroken and overwhelmed. But Princess, and all our other animals, keep us going. We are so grateful she is on the mend.

How you can help

We’re asking, as humbly as we know how, for help to cover Princess’s medical bills and, if possible, to help us replace my husband’s stolen bike so we can keep working and caring for our little family.

Every dollar goes directly to giving Princess the second chance she so deeply deserves and helping us find some stability after this nightmare.Police have been informed to deal with the criminal side and hopefully we make some sense of this. We're slowly regaining our peace, but day by day, finances have been difficult beyond belief. We moved 4000 miles from home just a year ago, and establishing ourselves has been tough. With little family around, we are reliant on ourselves, myself (Princess's cat mom) doing most of the working.

If you’re not able to donate, please consider sharing her story. Every share, every kind word, every bit of hope, it all means the world to us.

Princess didn’t deserve this cruelty, and we refuse to let this be the end of her story. Pellet gun, or something worse, my cat shouldn't have been shot. Just remember to keep your cats supervised outside; they live much longer indoors. And we must continue to stand up against senseless gun violence

Thank you for reading. Thank you for caring. And thank you for standing beside us and our sweet Princess. From the bottom of our hearts, and from Princess’s brave, tiny paws, thank you.