At 4AM, Giz trounced onto my pillow, purring madly and acting just like her old self. Knowing my alarm was going to go off in an hour, I stayed awake as much as possible, not wanting to miss a minute of being with her.
It’s been a month since she’s made it up the stairs, up the pet stairs, and into our bed. After years of her sleeping on my pillow, I’ve missed it. She did make it up the stairs once last week, but not as far as our bed, which is VERY high–I’m 5′ 6″ and have to hop up to get into it each night.
Maybe my panic over her health was totally an over-reaction. Maybe the subcutaneous fluids every other day instead of once a week are doing her a world of good. Maybe the antibiotics we’ve been giving her twice a day for almost a week now have cleared up whatever problem she had, and it isn’t life-threatening, as I originally thought it was. Our vet, who MUST have noticed my near-hysteria, gave me the impression that the end was near in a gentle, do-not-go-nuts-on-me-lady kind of way. She wouldn’t even vaccinate Giz because she said it would be too much of a shock to her system. My interpretation was “You’re already spending a ton of cash on all of the tests we’re doing. Don’t add any more expense; she’s not going to make it much longer.”
We fooled that vet, didn’t we, Giz? Welcome back, Gizwig. You can sleep on my pillow any time!