When Misty was a puppy, we found out her main artery unusually split in two and went toward her outsides instead of her insides, meaning there was a very good chance she would die at a young age. She is twelve now, and we all thought she was going to die on Wednesday when she had a stroke.
But now she is back home on medications, and we are spoiling her for all she is worth. Because she's alive, her pathetic eyes as she stumbles into walls is now adorable instead of sad (okay, it's still a little sad, but she's alive!), and it is my joy to give her water from my fingertips because she can't be bothered to lift her head and drink from the bowl herself.
God allowed us to have many more years with Misty than we should have had, and it looks like we have her for a while more. She's supposed to fully recover in a month, and until then, I will sit beside her and pet her to sleep ALL THE TIME.
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