I hope everyone has had a better week than me.

My elderly cat, Gaby, suddenly turned for worse. She was fully grown (3 or 4 years old?) when she came into my home on December 26, 2007. For the past six months, her health has gone downhill. She could no longer climb downstairs to use the litter box, so I had to move it closer to her bed. She had dementia. She would get confused when trying to locate her food dish, even when it was right under her nose. When she had an issue climbing into the litter box, I had to cut down two of the sides and cover the edges with duct tape. Then she could easily step in and out of the litter box.

On Tuesday night, Gaby was acting like her usual self. The following morning, she couldn’t step out of her bed without falling and she refused to eat anything. I decided it was time to have her put to sleep. I called the vet, but couldn’t get an appointment until July 22nd. I checked with other veterinarians in the area, but they’re booked until August. This is all because of the damn COVID-19 virus! The social distancing guidelines have caused veterinarians to fall behind.

Gaby passed away at 3:30 AM on Saturday. Since Wednesday, I have gone without sleep to stay by her side and take care of her. I buried Gaby next to her younger adopted brother, Fred, a fat Tabby cat who died in 2014.

I have been a cat lover all my life. I was given a male cat, Snuggles, when I was in the first grade and he lived for 14 years. I never thought I would own a cat until I took in a female calico cat, Gaby, on December 26, 2007 and in 2009 I took in a stray Tabby cat, Fred. Sadly, Fred passed away last summer.