I can see the sparkles on her eyes returning, brighter and brighter, like the sun rise. Those jade coloured eyes that used to look down, no meet me eye to eye.
She meows to her name. She answered yes or no. Sounds the same, but feel different.
We only have one message: that the vets spend the whole eight working hours struggling to remove her tail that started to rot even before her inflamed spine went down, and so we hope she will be merciful be leaving the stitches alone until it heals.
She looked at us and back to her leisurely grooming, but we know we can trust her.
It is me that she cannot trust.
Many, many times she meows and turned around, hiding her butt when I tried to take pictures. Each and every time she told me, in all gestures she knows, that she doesn’t want that area for public consumption, because like Sheilla said “It looks like a chicken butt”
“But it is the public that contribute to your surgery!” I squealed. “I need to be responsible and people will be happy to see you are OK!”
So she gave me two not so great pictures. In one of them you can see her killer peer as I snap on and off.
So comes the end of a chapter, and the beginning of a new one.
A new chapter where Patti can start again, brand new like dawn. A new chapter where Patti has chance; a new chapter where Patti has hope.
A new chapter we both owe it to all of you, nine lives and beyond.
Thank you, everybody.