I met Havana at the no kill shelter where I volunteer. She was a scared, shy little black girl brought in with her sister from their foster home. I have been a volunteer at his shelter for over 10 years and have felt a bond with every cat to some degree but never one as profound as the one I felt with her. She was so scared at first but her brave spirit shone through and she quickly came to learn that she was safe and loved. I will never forget the day I came to the shelter and was told that Havana was very sick. I didn't understand how it could happen so quickly. I had just held her in my arms 4 days before and she was fine. She very yellow(jaundiced) and refusing to eat. She was at the vet receiving treatment. My heart was broken. I believed from the moment I met her that she would one day become a part of our family. Given her young age and her happiness at the shelter I believed we had all the time in the world to see how our life together would play out. I took her home to care for her and make her well (or so I believed) I force fed her and gave her pills (she hated this but endured it stoically and always forgave me almost instantly) I was so thrilled when she began eating on her own again. I believed it was a major turning point in her recovery. On the morning of her death I was feeling so good about our progress. I gave her a kiss and said I would see her when I got home from work. When I returned home I rushed in to see her and found she had a huge open sore on her chest. I was deva stated and started crying immediately. Then I realized I needed to get her to the vet that had been caring for her ( she was diagnosed with immune mediated hemolytic anemia) I rushed her in and the vet discussed with me what could have happened to cause such a terrible wound. I didn't think anything in the room she was in could have done this to her! She was taken away to be stitched up and I was frustrated with the fact that she had one more thing to deal with but relieved that we were getting it taken care of. The vet returned and gave me the terrible news. Havana's skin was so fragile that the stitches likely wouldn't hold and she had found other injuries around her neck. As she was talking the truth hit me. I couldn't allow her to suffer anymore. It was time to let her go. This happened on November 20 and I am still struggling to come to terms with the loss of this little black cat that touched me so deeply. I only knew her for a short time but she has impacted my life in a major way. Did I do enough, did the vets do enough, was Havana ready to die? These are questions I will struggle with for the rest of my life. I was told I did all I could for her but those words mean nothing to me right now. I believed I could make her well and now she's gone and I can never hold her, kiss her, or tell her how much I love her ever again. That is the only truth I know. Why did this happen to her? Did she know how much I loved her, how strongly I believed that I could make her well enough to enjoy at least some time here in our home? These are questions I will never have answers to. They will haunt me always. I know, in time, the pain will fade but the questions will remain. Maybe we were meant to be together in a different time, a different place. I hope so. I hope to see her sweet face again one day.