Picture me, head down, leaning forward, inside a bubble, just pushing forward. That's been my last few weeks. It wasn't until I got a little distance from the things that have been rushing up that I realized its full gravity.
I called the vet a few days ago to ask a few questions...this was the vet that initially saw Clishy Marie when we took her in...during the course of this conversation he said the words "she died" or "she was dead" five times. I knew that she had "crashed" and that they had to do CPR and that they "brought her back" but I didn't think of it in those blunt terms. She died. Throughout her stint in the hospital I was terrified, but I didn't let myself think about what could have happened. But hearing those words, I didn't have any choice but to think about it...for a split second I felt angry. Angry that it happened. Angry that we almost lost her. But then I was flooded with relief and gratitude and love for my little girl.
Things have changed since she came home. She stays super close to me. She sleeps in the bed. She clamors into my lap the moment I sit down. She even looks at me different, maybe its my imagination. Everyday I look at her and I think about how close I came to losing her. And I feel so unbelievably lucky. I kiss her cheek, I kiss the top of her head, I tell her I love her, I tell her how precious she is...
and I tell her not to leave me.
and I tell her not to leave me.