Got to the hospital this afternoon to pick up young Bugsy,
whose numbers seem better or at least stable. The vet tech explained that the
Bugster has been really “feisty” since the morning, meowing and even playing in his cage. When he
was finally brought out to us, he was feisty all right—so much so that he
pulled off the bandage over his IV wound. He started bleeding all over the
place. But it was no biggie.
As soon as Annie put the boy in my old jacket and against
her chest, he went from feisty to calm and sleepy. It was amazing. He seemed to
fall into a coma. On the road, we started to worry about the guy, tried to get
him to open his eyes. He did a little, but opened
them wide when we finally pulled off Live Oak to Lambrose Canyon, where the road gets bumpy and slow. He knew he
was back home.
When we let him inside my folks' home, he immediately owned the place. He
stretched and checked out his old toys. My mom was ecstatic. “He’s so happy!”
she kept saying. And he was. He soon made his rounds, rubbing his little tail
on everybody’s legs, going from room to room, exploring the closet, inspecting
his food bowl. He sure is an independent little guy.
The boy was back in his element, and it was good. We all rejoiced quietly. We were very happy, at least for the moment.