And the world – at least in this little corner and I’m aware of the devastating tragedies in so many others – is as it should be.
Catie is home.
Rick phoned me at work at 1:30 this afternoon. “You will be amazed,” he said. “She came hopping out to see me . She’s happier than she’s been in a long time. Her eyes are brighter. Everyone at the clinic is amazed by her. She insisted on going up the stairs herself after they took her outside for her bathroom break.”
And it is true. Despite all my cowardice and moments of crippling anxiety, when I pulled into the driveway two golden faces watched me from the window. Oh my. Is this joy?
As always, there she stood when I opened the door. Her and Riley, she on her three legs and Riley on his four, both their tails wagging, their faces upturned and happy.
She looks just the same, I thought in amazement, except for the absence of one paw on the ground and the t-shirt Rick had put on her.
And she is just the same. Riley is actually the one acting a little oddly. He’s uncharacteristically cautious around her. Catie tried to entice him to play with her when she first got home, I’m told, but Riley wanted no part of it.
She ate her supper with typical relish. We took her on the deck to pee and to poop and right now, as I write, she is at the window watching for rabbits.
In the comments section of the vet’s lengthy discharge instructions, he wrote, “Cate is a wonderful dog.”