I note each tiny change with hopeful optimism, all the while recognizing the truth that Bella has changed very little since she has come to live with me. Yesterday she seemed to regress again, reluctant to leave her bed to eat her breakfast or dinner. I found myself sprouting rationalizations like some kind of springtime weed. Perhaps the rectangular dish seemed strange, or, since I bring her pills to her bed in something extra tasty, she holding out. Maybe she is simply coming to expect breakfast in bed. Dark fears set in. Had I made a mistake? Had the Ativan been doing something after all? Really, Bella, this just isn't going to work if you can't meet me half way.
I watch her as she pants on her bed, the stain from her drool dark under her head and chin. Deciding to pet her one last time before bed, I kneel next to her and began stroking her head. Just as I begin rubbing her neck under her collar she wags her tail! Up and down, three or four times the white tip of her tail softly brushes the air. There is enjoyment in there somewhere. Just a little, but enough to help keep me going. I can make the effort for a little longer. Ah, Bella, you read my mind. You knew I really needed this.
This morning Bella ate as usual, getting off her bed like it was no big deal.
I watch her as she pants on her bed, the stain from her drool dark under her head and chin. Deciding to pet her one last time before bed, I kneel next to her and began stroking her head. Just as I begin rubbing her neck under her collar she wags her tail! Up and down, three or four times the white tip of her tail softly brushes the air. There is enjoyment in there somewhere. Just a little, but enough to help keep me going. I can make the effort for a little longer. Ah, Bella, you read my mind. You knew I really needed this.
This morning Bella ate as usual, getting off her bed like it was no big deal.
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