Chiana was born in August 2022 — a striking grey Maine Coon with a quiet spirit, soft chirps, and a gentle soul. I adopted her just before Christmas that year, and from the moment she came home, she followed me everywhere. She became my little shadow — always nearby, always watching, always loving.
Just two months later, everything changed. Chiana tested positive for FeLV. The confirmation came quickly, through a series of tests, and the final blow was a PCR result showing nearly 91 million viral copies. She was only six months old. My heart broke and I cried for weeks.
But here’s the thing: she looked completely healthy. No symptoms. Just a tiny body, full of life, carrying something so destructive. I couldn’t accept that we were just supposed to wait for the virus to win. So I didn’t.
We started treatment right away — beginning with pediatric raltegravir and moving through various antiretrovirals over time. It’s been a rollercoaster ride. She’s gone regressive and then progressive again. Her viral load has climbed and dropped and climbed again. But through it all, Chiana has remained the same: sweet, calm, loving, and completely asymptomatic.
Her treatment isn’t simple. It’s highly specific, with carefully cut pills and an exact schedule. My husband gives them to her. Her care dictates our routine and impacts our lives in ways I never could’ve imagined — emotionally, financially, logistically. But I don’t regret a moment of it. She’s worth everything.
Not an Only Cat
Chiana isn’t alone in our home. She lives with Talyn, our medium-haired tuxedo born in 2021. He’s FeLV-negative and vaccinated yearly, obsessed with food, and somehow manages to “hide in plain sight.” He and Chiana aren’t bonded, but they get along well — playing together every day and coexisting peacefully. We do feed them separately because Talyn has a tendency to “steal snacks.”
Then, on Friday the 13th of June 2025, we added another soul to our family: Morden, our Great Dane puppy. He’s brought a new burst of energy, clumsy joy, and gentle companionship to the household. So far, he’s been a lovable goof — playful, sweet, and respectful of the cats.
This blog exists because I believe Chiana’s life matters — not just to me, but to the bigger picture. I hope her journey helps push forward real research. I hope her story gives someone else hope. And most of all, I hope it shows that even with a diagnosis like FeLV, there’s still room to fight — and still so much life to live.
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