There’s nothing as scary as having a major stroke. Well, except maybe the brain surgery that immediately followed. Though I was very out of it by then.
Cecil (and his brother Beany) got me through my recovery afterwards. I honestly don’t think I would have made it otherwise. With all my frustrations in trying to function, they were always close by. They cuddled me and purred me to sleep.
When I was totally despondent, I’d look over and see Cecil’s silly grin. He licked my fingers to pet him. And he still, to this day, is constantly sticking his tongue out. How can you not smile at that?
I am now on a walker, but Cecil doesn’t care. He doesn’t see a disabled person. He just sees his Mom.
He’s still my too-smart-for-both-our-goods, ornery boy. He has a sibling who’s a parrot. He routinely goes in her cage to check for goodies. Except of course when he’s impatient. Then he reaches up and slides the bottom tray out of the cage so he can get a thorough view of all the choices strewn across the floor.
His one less-than-helpful health challenge is that he gets bladder stones and can’t pee. He’s been through it 5 times, and each time it scares me to death. The vets manage to temporarily unplug him, but it’s painful for him and costly for me.
This time I was sure I was going to lose him. I’d just paid $1500 for last week’s temporary help and $14,000 for a plumbing repair. After all we’d been through together, this time there was no way to pay another bill. I felt like I was failing him.
But then there was the miracle of you. I am single, childless, and I live all alone. My fur and feather kids are my everything. Here you are paying for surgery that will permanently fix my boy. I am overwhelmed with gratitude. Thank you.
--Cecil’s Mom
PS. You saved my other kids by saving him as well. When he was in the hospital, his littermate brother almost couldn’t even move. And his sister dog, Ruby, wandered from room to room with a toy in her mouth, whining—looking for her best bud to play with.