An eyeball story, part II

A pair of pants on the floor is an instant nest. Wren seeks comfort in easy places.

It’s been 10 weeks that Wren and I have been struggling with our relationship. She got a slow healing eye ulcer (I think from wrestling with Tiny Dog who likes to jump on her head), and I was the one with the medications, sneaking up on her, with cookies in one hand, drops in the other.

During this time, I took her to work three times. She flattened herself as small as she could get in the parking lot each time, and then sat by the back door, blinking at all of us. I had to carry her to the exam room, and she was a patient patient, always has been. This is how I think she survived the puppy mill. Hunker down, it will be over soon.

Today, though, it’s a mid-summer miracle. Her eye is healed! I brought tools home to check the corneal ulcer (finally figured this one out: that one should bring things to Wren, not schlep Wren to the vet). And voila. 

I am relieved and Wren, well, she has to be. She’s not squinting and rubbing.  She has a white scar where the ulcer was, and vessels branching into it. The vessels are what finally made things better—they brought powerful messengers to get things going.

She still needs drops to reduce the scar for the next week or so, but I hope she knows I do all of this out of love. I still get plenty of kisses. 

Wren epitomizes grace and forgiveness.