Today marks the one-year anniversary of the death of our beloved cat, Chubbs. She used to belong to my husband's late grandmother. When I was unemployed, I would help take care of her. Months passed, and I started spending more time downstairs. Soon after, Chubbs started to act sluggish and didn't eat or drink. It was discovered that she had renal failure, so we had to put her down. She was 18 years old.
Although I still have 3 other cats and am over Chubbs's death, I still feel a little sad about it. The day she died, I cried my eyes out almost all day, because I knew it was my fault for leaving her alone, and that I would never see her again. The events of April 9 will forever be engrained in my mind, and I will think of Chubbs when that day comes again.