tamarjacobson

Molly crawled out of her carrier dragging a bright-orange bandaged back leg behind her. She stumbled and woo-zed her way around the walk-in clothes closet that I had prepared for her as her new home-to-be for the next couple of months. A small low bed with her favorite blanket on the one side. On the other, a litter box and to the side of her bed, food and water. She dragged herself to the bed and sprawled out reaching her paw up to my face purring loudly. I put my face to hers and tears dropped one by one on her nose. She lay still sniffing in my tears, closing her eyes with loving relief. The nurse had handed me the crate with a sleepy Molly inside. She apologized for not taking off the band-aids on Molly’s front paws where the drip needles had been. "She just wouldn’t let me take them off," the nurse explained, "So perhaps she will allow you later when you get home." Molly lay with me awhile in the closet. And then she reached her front paws up to my face, and, as she waited patiently, I gently unwound the band-aids and slipped them off holding them to her nose so that she could examine them close-up. She licked my hands over and over again and lay her head back on the blanket.

My girl is home and even though there will be some trying days of recuperation ahead, right now I am off to make a cup of Tazo Chai with just a dash of soy milk to celebrate.