I am a cat person who is allergic to cats. But that hasn’t stopped me and my equally allergic family from owning many felines over the years. In early 2021, before the COVID vaccine became widely available, I was feeling lonely in my New York apartment, away from my family and our two cats: Fleur, a shy tortoiseshell, and Pom, a feisty Bengal.
I decided it was time to adopt a pet of my own. I knew truly hypoallergenic cats were a myth, but I figured that looking into breeds that were said to produce less dander ― which is what causes allergies ― would be better. That’s how I discovered Balinese cats, a longhaired breed known for their striking blue eyes and siamese-like coloring.
After some research, I found a breeder in my area and got on a waitlist. I waited for almost two years. By the time I got the email that a kitten was ready for me, I was renting a cramped apartment in Nolita with minimal natural light and air circulation. I thought it better to wait until my living situation was more accommodating for a cat.
The next time I was contacted, my long-distance relationship had ended the week prior, and I’d just moved into a bright studio in Greenpoint. I was also a month into a new magazine job, which was the kind of career step I’d been searching for. I welcomed this new animal amid all the upheaval because I thought it was fate: I would have a companion to help me through this time of heartbreak and change.
I was wrong. Silver, as I came to name the tiny 4-month-old kitten I picked up from a New Jersey suburb, was anything but calming. She was loving and affectionate, of course, but she was also always sick.
When we first arrived home, I noticed she had a persistent sneeze. Incidentally, I did too: I was allergic to her despite her breed, and her dander was already wreaking havoc on my system. But at her first vet visit the next day, I was told she was healthy and that she probably just had a cold. As Silver settled in over the next few weeks, her sneezing didn’t subside, and she was audibly congested. When her appetite changed and she became lethargic, I brought her back to the vet. This would become a regular occurrence.
She was diagnosed with calicivirus, an upper respiratory infection, and given a first course of antibiotics. The following month, she developed a fever and an ear infection. Another round of antibiotics and a new ear-cleaning regimen were prescribed. But the month after that, her ear infection seemed to have returned, so I made a vet appointment.
The morning of, she was the sickest I’d seen her. She didn’t wake me up with affectionate headbutts and purring as usual, and she stayed curled up in a corner, even after I laid out her breakfast. A hefty vet bill later, it seemed her ear infection and calicivirus infection were back, along with pneumonia. We went home with a cocktail of antibiotics.
After that episode, we had a few weeks where she seemed to be doing well. But her frequent ailments had taken a toll on my mental health. Rather than lifting my spirits, she’d become a constant source of worry due to her condition. I became obsessed with monitoring her appetite, energy levels and even bowel movements. I never felt like she was fully OK.
Then I found out she really, really wasn’t.
As fall approached, Silver’s appetite and activity levels dwindled. My family reassured me, saying it was probably due to her maturing out of being a hungry, playful kitten. I held on to their words and tried to push my anxiety aside while I visited a friend in Boston for the weekend. When I came home, I was struck by how bloated and hard Silver’s abdomen seemed.
“Don’t you think that she kind of looks like a balloon?” I asked the friend who’d taken care of her while I was gone. “Doesn’t her stomach feel weird?”
She disagreed, as did my family when I sent them photos of Silver. As the week went on, I had a hard time feeding her even half a can of food per day, and she spent most of her time curled up in the same spot, since she was having trouble jumping onto surfaces. Still, the following weekend, I put her in her carrier and boarded a plane to visit my family for my father’s birthday.
Upon seeing Silver in person, my sisters agreed that she looked off. I scheduled a vet appointment for the next day, hoping it was just a parasite and that her stomach would go back to normal with whatever they prescribed. But the vet told me that my cat’s abdomen was most likely filled with fluid. She was sorry to tell me she suspected Silver had feline infectious peritonitis.
Photo courtesy of Fred Sahai
FIP is a disease caused by a mutation of a feline coronavirus. Most cats will be infected by this strain and recover, but in about 10% of cats, a mutation causes an inflammatory reaction that has two forms ― dry and wet. The dry form affects the central nervous system, resulting in neurological signs. The wet form, which all of Silver’s symptoms pointed to, causes fluid to accumulate in body cavities. We wouldn’t know for sure until after a series of tests.
I left Silver at the clinic while the vet drew some blood, performed an X-ray and punctured her stomach to analyze the fluid in her abdomen. The vet informed me that there was no treatment for the disease, and that the test results indicated Silver was sadly facing death in the next few days. But she did mention there was a Facebook group I could check out for alternative treatment options.
As it turned out, small trials at the University of California, Davis, discovered that GS-441524, an antiviral drug, could be a “safe and effective treatment for FIP.” GS-441524 is incredibly similar to remdesivir, an antiviral drug that was once used by Donald Trump, among others, to experimentally treat COVID in the early days of the pandemic. But Gilead Sciences, which invented and makes remdesivir and GS-441524, wouldn’t license the drug for animal use.
Enter FIP Warriors, a Facebook group founded in March 2019 that helps pet owners access the drug. The group came to be when Robin Kintz and her husband’s two kittens were diagnosed with FIP. Through some internet research, she came across discussion about a black-market drug from China that could help. Kintz then founded FIP Warriors, which is now a Facebook community of over 72,000 people who support each other through their cats’ illnesses. Administrators in the group help pet owners access the drug on a voluntary basis, and guide them through the treatment process.
That evening, coming home from the vet, I was inconsolable. But there was no time to dwell, as FIP is known to progress rapidly. My family and I had to decide if we were willing to spend a not-insignificant amount of money on an experimental treatment. My father, a doctor, carefully read the research literature and concluded that it was worth a try.
My little sister got to work and joined the Facebook group. Within minutes, she was chatting with an admin who sent us a detailed questionnaire regarding Silver’s appearance, habits and overall health. She explained that the treatment consisted of about three months of daily injections of the antiviral drug. We placed an order for some starter doses on a password-protected website, and since Silver’s state was rapidly declining, the admin connected us with someone with extra vials of the medicine in our area so we could start the injections immediately while we waited for our shipment.
The next day, my father and I drove to a suburb about 45 minutes away to a house where multiple cats sat in the window, staring at us. A nice woman handed us some needles and three nondescript glass vials of clear liquid. We made our way home, where my sister was waiting, ready to give Silver her first injection after watching many instruction videos.
The injection went smoothly, but not without some protestation from Silver and some angry growling afterward. She was rewarded with a full tube of liquid cat treats.
And then we waited. I wasn’t expecting any miracles, but the next day, Silver was already more alert, spending less time curled up in the same spot sleeping. By day three, she had regained the urge to play. A week in, her eating habits had improved, and her abdomen was visibly smaller. My family and I were shocked at the improvement.
I went back to my Brooklyn apartment, and Silver stayed to continue her treatment in my family’s care. The Facebook group admins were diligent about checking in, giving us advice and providing a schedule of suggested monthly vet appointments to get blood work and monitor Silver’s progress.
A month in, she had reverted to a playful, ravenous and wildly active kitten. Two months in, her blood work was showing drastic improvement. And three months in, as she received her final dose, she was a changed cat.
We weren’t out of the woods yet; the group administrators warned us that relapse was possible. After the three months of daily injections, Silver would enter a sort of remission phase. If her condition remained stable, they said she’d be considered cured in another three months. That second phase proved more stressful: We were no longer actively treating her illness, and had to simply monitor her and hope for no recurrence.
Photo courtesy of Fred Sahai
She came back to live with me in my apartment. Though I was anxious about the possibility of her relapsing, her presence ― now that she was feeling better ― made the anxiety more bearable. When her final blood tests came back, the vet said they looked great, and I felt I could finally relax.
And the following month, in May 2024, the FDA announced that it did “not intend to enforce new animal drug approval requirements for products compounded from GS-441524, when prescribed by a veterinarian for a specific cat patient for the treatment of Feline Infectious Peritonitis” ― meaning that more pet owners will be able to access this medication.
I’m not a veterinarian, and obviously, you should always consult a vet in matters of your pets’ health. Everything I can tell you is based only on my own experience. Having the opportunity to turn to this group for help and support, when I felt like I had no other options left to save my cat, was unbelievable. Finding a community that understood what we were both going through brought me so much comfort. I believe that if I had not found FIP Warriors, Silver would no longer be here.
Today, Silver and I still live together in Brooklyn. It has been over six months since she finished her treatment, and I no longer carry a constant feeling of anxiety about her health. I have been able to enjoy the normalcy of living with a healthy cat and fully appreciate her companionship.
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