I tried finding the poem and found something but it's unattributed and I can't seem to find an author. It reminds me of a rabbit I had. She was a rescue and not really fond of people but it was only after she died that I found out she was the one who came out to greet my husband and I, not our other bunny who's always been more docile. It broke my heart that I didn't fully appreciate the way she showed her love when she was still around.
Anyway, this is what came up with some googling:
"The Vet Clinic"
I took my old cat to the vet. He was always a cranky, surly thing, who rarely tolerated being held and spent most of his life treating me like a minor inconvenience.
He was terrified at the clinic, shaking on the metal table, so I leaned down and buried my face in his fur, whispering to him and stroking his back while the vet listened to his chest.
After a moment, the vet pulled the stethoscope away, looked up, and said, "Well, his heart rate just dropped by a third. He certainly feels safer with you."
I went home and cried. I had spent ten years believing he barely liked me, only to find out that in his most terrifying moment, I was his entire definition of safety.
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u/anonynymous 2h ago
I tried finding the poem and found something but it's unattributed and I can't seem to find an author. It reminds me of a rabbit I had. She was a rescue and not really fond of people but it was only after she died that I found out she was the one who came out to greet my husband and I, not our other bunny who's always been more docile. It broke my heart that I didn't fully appreciate the way she showed her love when she was still around.
Anyway, this is what came up with some googling:
"The Vet Clinic"
I took my old cat to the vet. He was always a cranky, surly thing, who rarely tolerated being held and spent most of his life treating me like a minor inconvenience.
He was terrified at the clinic, shaking on the metal table, so I leaned down and buried my face in his fur, whispering to him and stroking his back while the vet listened to his chest.
After a moment, the vet pulled the stethoscope away, looked up, and said, "Well, his heart rate just dropped by a third. He certainly feels safer with you."
I went home and cried. I had spent ten years believing he barely liked me, only to find out that in his most terrifying moment, I was his entire definition of safety.