CHAPTER 25 – Cherished
Abigail navigated the living room, her left eye pointed at the ceiling, the other at the floor. As long as she kept her head tilted like that, she could keep her balance. Still, occasionally, she stumbled and fell, and Dad watched forlornly as she flailed around trying to right herself.
Two weeks after her head tilt had started, Dad no longer had to chase her down twice a day for medication—which was a relief to both of them. The vet advised, “Whatever good the medication could do has been done. We just have to see if she recovers now.” But after three weeks, there was still no improvement. Dad wondered if her head tilt might be permanent. “Oh Abigail, I don’t want you to have to go through life like this! You’re still so young!”
But then, a miracle happened. As the fourth week began, Dad noticed her head was tilted slightly less than before. It went from the nine o’clock position to the ten o’clock position. As each day passed, it seemed a little better. By the end of the week, her head was almost straight up! “Abigail! I think you’re getting better!” exclaimed Dad.
Indeed, Abigail felt better. A month and three days after her head tilt began, she no longer had to tilt her head to keep her balance. She was so happy to be back to normal, she did something she hadn’t done in a long time. She ran laps around the couch and dashed through her bolt-to tunnel. “Dad, look! I’m better!” she thought.
Dad was elated. His baby was going to be OK. There had been moments when he wondered if he might lose her, or if she might be physically challenged for the rest of her life. When he held her in his arms, he realized how important she was to him—how irreplaceable she was—and how much he cherished her. He vowed to make every moment count with her.
Dad picked her up, laid down on the couch and placed her on his chest, thinking she had learned that cuddling was a good thing. But Abigail wanted none of that. She was back to being her normal bunny self and didn’t want to be held. She leapt off the couch and foot-flicked Dad as she hopped away, as if to say “No, Dad! No more hugging! I’m better now.”
Dad laughed. As much as he had enjoyed cuddling her, he was happier to see her back to being her normal, healthy self.
