I just realized that I completely left out one very important aspect of my recovery. My cat! I’m sorry, sweet kitty.

Ricki was sitting at the connecting door between the garage and the house when Dave brought me home. The second I walked in the door she gave me this strange look, then gave my leg a good sniff. She knew something was wrong. She knew I wasn’t feeling well. Ricki took it on herself to act as my guardian and constant companion. For the first week of my recovery at home, she was never far from my side. When I got up and walked the halls for my exercise, she followed me, up and down the hall, until she found that I was just pacing, then she’d pick a place in the middle of the hall, and just follow me with her eyes.

I knew I must be getting better when she started leaving me alone for several hours each day. As far as Ricki’s concerned, I must be all back to normal now. Her sleeping places and schedule have returned to normal, so I must be nearly well. Certainly, she feels that I’m well enough that I don’t have to have her supervision any longer.