Tomorrow is a big day for Pikachu.
Because tomorrow… he’ll finally get the chance to live without the pain that’s been silently stealing his comfort for so long. There’s a kind of pain that hides behind the eyes. A kind that doesn’t always show until it’s unbearable. And Pikachu knows that pain far too well.
Since the day he arrived at our sanctuary, his tiny body has been carrying something it should never have had to endure: constant, relentless pressure in his eye. Glaucoma is a cruel disease, it slowly builds until the eye begins to swell and stretch and throb beyond what any living soul should bear.
At first, we hoped we could manage it. We threw everything we had at it, five different medications, administered three times a day. Pain relievers, pressure drops, anti-inflammatories. Our entire team worked tirelessly to stay ahead of it. And Pikachu, through it all, never once showed anger or fear. Only quiet trust. Only love.
But the truth is… the pain hasn’t eased. It’s worsened. The eye has continued to swell, larger than it’s ever been. The pressure is no longer manageable. It’s no longer safe. And now it’s threatening to rupture.
He was scheduled for a much-needed dental this past week. But when Dr. CJ examined him, we were told the dental would have to wait—because we were running out of time with the eye.
We’ve been faced with an impossible choice that wasn’t really a choice at all. Because when it comes to a soul like Pikachu, a soul who has suffered in silence for far too long, there is only one thing to do:
We choose relief.
We choose comfort.
We choose peace.
And so, tomorrow, Pikachu will undergo an enucleation. His eye will be removed.
This is not a decision we’ve taken lightly. We never do. Especially in seniors. We’ve seen how removing one or both eyes can sometimes trigger confusion, even dementia. The loss of vision can send some of our dogs spiraling. But this time, it’s different.
Because this eye… it’s already gone. It doesn’t offer vision. Not even shadows. Not even light. Just pain. Unrelenting, cruel pain. His other eye, although cloudy with a cataract, still gives him the faint gift of light and shape. It helps him stay anchored. Helps him know where his bed is. Helps him find our voices. And that’s enough. That’s what made this decision possible.
We are not taking anything from Pikachu tomorrow. We are giving him something he’s never truly had:
Freedom from suffering.
Freedom from the constant weight behind his eye.
Freedom to breathe, to rest, to live without that gnawing pressure that has stolen so much of his peace.
And oh, how he deserves it.
He’s the kind of dog who melts into your arms. Who doesn’t complain. Who wags his tail when he hears your voice. Who happily sits on your lap when you sit with him. He doesn’t ask for anything, he just hopes to be near you. And he still trusts, despite it all.
That’s what makes this even harder. Because it’s always the ones who say nothing who are often in the most pain.
So tomorrow, as he goes into surgery, we’re holding our breath a little. Hoping that when he wakes up, it’s not just one less eye, it’s one less burden. That he’ll feel lighter. More at ease. Finally, truly comfortable in a way he hasn’t felt in a long, long time.
And today, as we prepare for that moment, we are asking, humbly, from the depths of our hearts, for your support.
Because this surgery, and every procedure like it, is only possible when our community stands beside us. We don’t say yes to these decisions unless we know that you’re there with us, believing in these seniors, believing in their right to comfort.
And right now, we have an extraordinary opportunity:
Our very generous supporter, Cindy, is matching every donation dollar-for-dollar until July 10. That means your gift, no matter the size, will go twice as far.
Your $25 becomes $50.
Your $50 becomes $100.
Your love… becomes relief.
Not just for Pikachu, but for every senior who walks through our doors in pain, quietly waiting for someone to care enough to help them heal.
If you’ve ever loved a dog. If you’ve ever seen that silent suffering in their eyes. If you believe, as we do, that they deserve better in their final chapter, please give today.
Let’s give Pikachu the gift he’s been waiting for. Let’s give him the comfort he’s always deserved. Let’s say yes, not just to life, but to the kind of life that feels soft, and safe, and free from pain.
From our entire team, and from one very brave little dog, thank you for standing by him.
Let tomorrow be the beginning of his peace.
