At first it was good. Mom and Dad were home every. single. day.
ALL DAY. But then it started getting weird. They began to get on my last nerve.
I could run, but I could not hide.
They made me nervous, with their pawing all over me all the time. There was no rest for the weary. So, I thought I'd give them a little something to do instead of rest their weary bums on the sofa watching The Real McCoys.
I became sick.
From there it was back and forth and back and forth in the Genesis to find health care for me.
We waited in the car for hours till a stranger came out and took me inside. We repeated this ordeal day after day after day and I wondered, why? Why can I no longer hear Mom and Dad? Why do these strangers keep piercing me with needles? Why does Mom try to force pills down my throat? Why am I walking into walls? Why am I confused? Why is my head... like... sideways? I'm hideous!!! And why does everything sound like nothing? Quiet.
Back and forth we went in the Genesis to wait for the people to come out and take me inside to torture me more. Everyone wore covers over their snouts. They put a bunch of icky stuff in my ears that made it even worse. I was dizzy and confused and sick and hopeless. Months passed, and they kept taking me back to get tortured over and over and over again. This place, that place, back here, now there. Why?!
After what Mom called the second ear packing, I started to feel a little better and could even hear her complaints talk of how much she loved me. But Mom was freaking out when I began having uncontrolled jerking of my legs and body. Coming off the prednisone, she 'hoped'. Next day I was okay.
Okay 2020, I beat ya! I'm better!
But then the falling off the bed and tearing my claw off episode. Ya. Couldn't hide. All they had to do was follow the bloody paw print. Here's how the scene went:
Mom: She's hurt! Oh my gosh, she's hurt. The blood!!!!
Dad: The carpet! This has to be cleaned up! The carpet will be ruined!
Mom: My poor baby (sob, sob)
Dad: (grabs some carpet cleaner and is down on his hands and knees) Don't let her walk!
Mom: I can't help it. She's hurt! (applys paper towels around my injured foot, but the blood just keeps on a commin') All this blood!
I tried to lick the blood away from my paw. Bloody paw prints followed me throughout the house, outside and then back in again. All the while, Dad freaking out about the carpet. Blood was everywhere.
All I wanted to do was make it better. So I licked and I bit and I licked and gnawed and...
Well...
This scene was not a pleasant one either.
Mom started tossing my pee pads all over the living room floor to shut Dad up so I could walk without leaving bloody paw prints everywhere. Oh, and BTW, Dad did a good job of cleaning up the mess.
The only evidence left behind of the horrid event is a lone claw.
I feel violated.
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