Several years ago my husband semi-retired from a Big City newspaper. My Dad had been diagnosed with multi-infarca senile dementia (like Alzheimer's) and my poor Mom just couldn't cope with working and taking care of him. They were going to come live with my husband and me. So Husband and I found a big, old house in a smaller town about 70 miles from the City (Brenham, TX). Big and cheap, boy were we dumb.

From the first, the fur babies and my dog Belle were nervous, but finally settled in. Gypsy was a baby then and for the next four years would never, ever come downstairs unless you carried her, then she ran back up to our bedroom. We had a litter box in our dressing room, food down the hall in the guest bath (who can sleep with the crunching of dry food near you!) Gypsy literally lived in our bed, day and night.

After we moved in, Dad got so ill and needed 24 hour care, that he had to go live in a nursing home. I felt very guilty about him there, and not with us, but sometimes there truly isn't any other choice. My Mom never came to live with us. So we had a big old house and a big old house payment for no reason. And no one would buy the house from us. 'Too strange, too weird' we heard over and over again.

I have never been a depressed person, always knew I could do about anything which came my way. But living in the 'Amityville Horror' house and town, just pulled both of us down. We both worked but since we were not natives of the town, jobs were small and pay was too. My husband did a lot of work in the City, but couldn't drive 140 miles a day, full time. The money disappeared, the credit cards were maxed, we would send what we could to my Mom (Lord, do I have a Great husband). And he tried everything, as I withdrew from the real world. Finally, I had a stroke, a small one, but scary, then another. I wondered if I was going to be like my Dad. And I was only 42 years old.

After four years, we missed one house payment by six days; the previous owner, who carried the note herself, foreclosed on that day. We finally had to file for bankruptcy protection to save our home. One year later, I got up one morning and said to myself, "I can't face another day, it is just too much." We had no money and couldn't seem to even hang on to our home. So, I decided to kill myself, be done with it, it would be cheaper (I thought) for my husband if I wasn't around - all the usual stuff one thinks when one is suffering from so much self-pity and depression.

I walked around the house and said good-bye to all the cats, hugged Belle Starr, casually kissed my husband and told him I loved him. I decided to have one more cigarette (I was going to die, why not?). As I sat there in the living room, here came Gypsy. For the first time in her life she had come downstairs ON her own. She hopped up on my lap (another first) and looked at me. I heard a voice say, 'Please don't die, God loves you and we all love you too. Things will get better; God wants you to know this, please don't kill yourself.' As He is my witness, this is what I heard. So, I said to myself, 'God, if you really want me to live, let Gypsy stay in my lap for 20 or 30 minutes.' She did. I have never felt so contented, so happy in 42 years as I did then. I was so loved that God had sent a little cat to tell me so.

For the next three days, my husband kept asking me why I was glowing. I could feel it, an envelope of love. It was four days before I told him what I was about to do and why I did not. He said he knew I was sad, but not that sad and depressed. He was, as always, such a support. I have never been depressed again. Not since that terrible day. Nothing is too great that we cannot survive. We are all so loved by God, His Angels, and of course, our pets. Since then, Gypsy's nickname is Angel Cakes. She always seems to know when I am worried and sad, and comforts me.

You may not believe in God, but He believes in You!

Gypsy and her nightly sub-Q fluids

March, 2005

With a Gypsy shaped hole in my heart, I must update this to add that Gypsy went to The Bridge in late February, after a 16 month fight with both hyperthyroidism and Chronic Renal Failure. These were diagnosed within a week of each other though she probably had them for a while. With no physical signs we hadn't had her to the Vet in over a year for a workup. Would that have made a difference? I doubt it, she would have been treated sooner, but 16 months at her age was a valiant battle. She never fussed, took her meds twice a day, and received sub-Q fluids each night.

Gypsy and her fluids

She finally let us know it was time, one week after my Mom passed away, on my birthday no less. But Gypsy suddenly became so frail and tired. It was time to say our final farewells. I spent several hours talking with her and singing with her the day before. We were with her even in her final moment, I held her and I hope helped her one final time, as she had helped me to find a reason to live. She sighed and relaxed and saw the glory of God's face. I know Tikky and all our Rainbow Angels greeted her, and my Mom, who loved her dearly too and called her "Angel."