Every day with Al the Epileptic Cat followed a rhythm. Not a loud rhythm. Not a dramatic one. A quiet one made of pill bottles, tiny syringes, soft voices, and patience.
Three times a day, every day, Al took his medicine.
Multiple pills. CBD oil. Careful timing. Careful watching. Careful hoping.
If you watch the video that goes with this post, you’ll see something simple on the surface. Just a cat getting his medication. But anyone who has cared for an animal with epilepsy knows that moments like this are never just routine. They’re a small act of determination repeated over and over again.
Al never stayed seizure-free for very long. The medications helped, but epilepsy rarely gives clean victories. Instead, it offers fragile stretches of calm between storms. The medicine didn’t cure him, but it gave him time. And time mattered.
Each dose was a promise.
A promise that we were doing everything we could.
A promise that he was worth every effort.
A promise that love sometimes looks like schedules, pill organizers, and learning how to gently convince a stubborn cat to swallow something he absolutely did not ask for.
Al was remarkably patient through it all. Cats are famously opinionated creatures, but somehow he understood that these strange daily rituals were meant to help him. There were days when he fussed a little. Days when he looked at me like I had completely lost my mind. But most of the time he cooperated in that calm, dignified way that made him… well, Al.
This video was taken just a few months before he passed away.
We believe the years of medication eventually took a toll on his body. Epilepsy itself is hard, but the treatments that help control it can be just as heavy on a small body over time. Still, I would make the same choices again without hesitation. Those medicines helped him stay with us longer. They helped give him more naps in the sunshine, more curious walks around the house, more quiet evenings curled up beside me.
More life.
And that’s what all of this was about.
Al’s journey with epilepsy is the heart of EpilepticAL. The shop, the messages, the strange little designs about brains and cats and resilience all grew from this experience. From watching a small white cat face something difficult every single day and still greet the world with steady blue-eyed calm.
This video captures one of those ordinary moments that were actually extraordinary.
A small cat.
A handful of medicine.
A lot of love.
Al may be gone now, but the story he carried continues to help start conversations about epilepsy, about perseverance, and about the quiet courage that exists in places most people never think to look.
Sometimes it lives in a pill bottle.
Sometimes in a syringe of CBD oil.
And sometimes in the steady heartbeat of a very brave cat named Al. 🐾💜
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