And/ No One/ Is Ever Gonna Love You/ More Than I Do

I never told that when Henry got hit by the car <2006> Ex and I found a way to make sure someone was with him constantly for at least the first week. We turned the heavy coffee table over in a corner, put the futon mattress on the floor and used the wooden frame to box in a recovery area for Henry so he couldn’t move too much while he healed.

I sat on a futon mattress, covered in a plastic piss cover, on that floor, watching junky movies and knitting while Henry was high as a kite on pain meds. Squirrely aggressive and standoffish, but never wanting to be alone, either.

I taught myself to knit that year. I’m not even sure how long before Henry lost his leg that I taught myself. It must have been months, since I know he chewed a pair of bamboo needles at one point. Was he still chewing at 8 months, though? I can’t remember when that stopped.

They made us pick him up from the vet days before they wanted to. He bit a vet tech. His level of viciousness started then and I have never blamed him for it. So we brought him home and he was horrendous about taking meds and threatening to us during recovery.

That first night (we weren’t supposed to let him walk at all. Strictly a peeing on yourself kind of deal after you lose a limb), he cried at 2 am. He cried and cried, despite Ex sleeping in the living room with him. He would not be consoled. There was no comfort short of going outside to pee <as all civilized housemates are required to> that he would accept.

I have mentioned before that he is truly the product of my personality, so there was nothing to be done except to put him in the sling and take him outside to go pee. He couldn’t have been housetrained for more than two months then.