The Next Day

Just a note, dear blog-friends, to say Fang has eaten two meals since last post.  He’s speaking to me again and he seems more chipper.  He and Bugs played a little together this morning.  His eye’s still weeping, and his nose is still crusty — but he’s better in those other so-important ways.

But he seems so delicate, changing so much over such a short time.  I really wonder about this.  And, wondering, I just picked up the phone and Kim was on the other end.  Talking with her now has helped me see what some of you, too, suggested — Fangie’s history has left him with a vulnerability that needs some fundamental support.  The allopathic approach  doesn’t seem to be providing it.

And the Vetericyn might be an important topical assist, but there’s still the missing fundamental element.   Kim swears by homeopathy.  And she knows I’m not up to tackling the thing by myself, book in hand and worrying myself to death.  So here’s a friend:  Kim is giving me a consult with a homeopathic vet as a gift.

Big sigh.  Friends.  Co-parents.

I was so distressed yesterday.  I tried to walk it off in a really special park at the south end of town — tall tall oak trees, bluffs and caves and huge boulders, what I’d hoped would be a cool watery glen.  No dice.  The trail’s deteriorated and been left to grow over, I had to climb over and around and through deadfalls all over the place, and absolutely no no no water to be had anywhere.

But I did come across some wild blackberries.  And there was one, utterly perfectly ripe, sun-warmed.  A symphony in the mouth.  I took it as a sign, a gift, a remembrance.

And when I got home, Bugs was asleep in Top Shelf and Fang was asleep in Bottom Shelf, and all seemed better.  And I read your responses to last post.  And now Kim.  I’m touched beyond measure at all the care that poured in.

Huge thanks to you all.