Cube was, quite frankly, my and my husband’s pride and joy. I got her in 2009 from the Humane Society when I was in college. She was a petite, adorable, 8-month-old gray kitten – a Russian Blue mix. I knew immediately she was my cat when I held her, and she started nibbling on my ears. It was some instinctual and primal feeling, like – this is my baby.
It was fate, destiny, fortune – whatever you want to call it.
Fast forward 15 years, my husband and I were living in our first home, and Cube was living the dream – being doted on and loved more than I had ever loved an animal. I don’t think it ever seriously crossed our minds how we would function without her. It would surely be YEARS from now, even though she was 15 years old. Naively I secretly wished we could just keep her healthy and with us forever, just because of how much we loved her. The thing we would say most is that, whenever it did happen, it would be like a nuclear bomb going off in our lives.
That turned out to be more accurate than we could have guessed. In February 2024, we were gearing up to take a spring break trip to Florida in early March. The bond between the 3 of us was at an all-time high – my husband and I had been working from home full-time since 2020, so we were spending all day with her, and loving it! Cube loved it too! I couldn’t believe we had ever been able to spend so much time away from her prior to working remotely.
During this time, we started noticing some excessive drooling from Cube, which was not normal for her. Her breath was also smelling unpleasant, worse than usual. So we made an appointment with our vet to get her checked out in early February. The vet discovered that Cube had an abscessed tooth that was likely causing the drooling and bad breath. She recommended that the tooth be pulled. We scheduled her appointment for the tooth extraction a few days later. On the day of the appointment, we dropped her off early in the morning and scheduled to pick her up later in the afternoon.
A couple hours after we dropped her off, the vet called to say that she was seeing something concerning when she got a closer look at the tooth. There was some white, bone-like material around the tooth. She was afraid it could be cancer, but wanted to take a sample and get it tested to be sure. I will never forget that phone call and the feeling in my chest when she said the “C” word. Cancer? My innocent, perfect, baby might have cancer? I didn’t really allow myself to believe it and could barely speak the words as I told my husband what the vet said. I distinctly remember telling him: “I’m scared.”
We picked up Cube that afternoon, and I felt such relief to have her back home. The abscessed tooth was extracted, along with a couple others that needed to be pulled. I was so thankful for every moment and just wanted to make her recovery as smooth and easy as possible. I loved taking care of her and remained hopeful that the vet was just flat out wrong – that she didn’t have cancer, would recover from her tooth extraction, and be perfectly healthy as she had always been.
On February 20th, we got the call back from the vet with the results that confirmed the worst possible news I had been dreading and praying was not true. There was cancer forming in her mouth, specifically oral squamous cell carcinoma (OSCC). She said this was a very aggressive and deadly cancer, with life expectancy on average being one month.
One. Month.
We had the vet on speaker phone, and my husband and I looked at each other in disbelief. I made a noise I can only describe as the beginning of a sob. I felt like my world had just completely crashed down on me.
The vet referred us to an oncologist to review our options, although she said success rates for cures and treatment are extremely low to non-existent for this form of cancer. I immediately began looking up OSCC to learn everything I could prior to the appointment. Everything I read dragged me deeper into despair and depression. It was becoming clear that I would not be able to save my baby, but I would do everything I could to make her as comfortable and safe as possible in the time we had left with her. We promptly cancelled our Florida trip and prepared for this scary journey ahead of us.
On March 5th we had our first oncology appointment. The oncologist reviewed the test results, confirmed the prognosis. The outlook was bleak. The options he laid out were chemotherapy, radiation, surgery, or a non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drug (NSAID), which had shown success in slowing cancer growth. He went over the risks, side effects, and likely outcomes of each option. He made it clear that no option would result in a complete cure. Chemotherapy would either involve bringing her in every couple of weeks for treatment, or it could be given in a pill from at home. If we did radiation, we would have to take her to Iowa, the nearest facility that offered such treatment for animals. Attempting to remove the cancer by surgery and reconstructing her face was not a viable or ideal option according to the oncologist. We didn’t like the sound of the side effects for any of these options and the ramifications that could come from them – putting her through more stress and potentially negative complications in addition to the cancer itself.
After a lot of mental anguish, and much more research, we opted to try the NSAID route which we would give her daily. We were also given gabapentin to relieve any pain she was experiencing because of the cancer. We also gave her pet-specific CBD oil in her food every day, since I had read studies that suggested CBD can help slow cancer growth, and also help with overall pain relief and help reduce anxiety. This was our care plan. I felt as okay with it as I could – but knew this was basically just pain management and delaying the inevitable. It was very hard for me to accept this.
The “one month” expectancy came and went – our treatment plan seemed to be doing as well as it could. We ended up having 7 precious months with Cube after she was diagnosed. But inevitably, her condition
got to the point where we knew it was time to end her suffering.
Our baby went to the rainbow bridge on September 5th, 2024. Losing her was the hardest thing I have ever had to go through, one I didn’t think I could get through at times. We had many struggles and difficulties in the last couple months, and it was heartbreaking, almost unbearable at times. I still struggle every day thinking of what she went through and wondering if things would have been different if we had made different decisions.
This experience taught me so much and I believe fundamentally changed me. I began exploring different studies and organizations that focused on OSCC cures and treatment specifically. We wanted to donate to help further research, and to help future cats in Cube’s memory and honor. This is how I got involved with and started volunteering for EveryCat. I will never stop trying to spread awareness for OSCC and hope that one day the research will find a cure for this awful disease. EveryCat funds research for this specific cancer as well as many others.
If I could share some advice for other cat parents, it would be to keep a keen eye on your cat’s condition and health. Don’t wait to get your cat into the vet if you notice even slight changes in them or if something doesn’t seem right. If your cat is diagnosed with OSCC, or any other illness, seek out all of information that you can, and never be afraid to ask questions or get a second opinion. Our babies deserve the best possible care!
This is for you Cube. I love you always!
~ Haley D
Cats have always had a special place in Haley’s heart. In September of 2024, she lost her precious “soul” cat, Cube, to oral squamous cell carcinoma, which is an aggressive and common disease for cats. It was devastating and changed her life forever. To honor Cube and keep her memory alive, Haley and her husband decided to do something positive and get involved with different feline cancer research groups, which is how she came to volunteer for EveryCat. Haley is eager to spread awareness and increase research, not only for squamous cell carcinoma, but for overall feline cat health in Cube’s name!