Quiet Strength
𝙌𝙪𝙞𝙚𝙩 𝙎𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙩𝙝
… 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 🐾
These last 2½ months have taken a toll on all
of us… but especially on my Macy.
Losing our tiny Molly shifted her whole world,
and I’ve watched her navigate a grief she doesn’t have words for — the quiet searching, the restlessness, the way she’s needed extra
closeness just to feel secure again.
She turned 13 just a week ago Monday.
Thirteen years and one week of loving her
gentle spirit.
Her grooming appointment was the day before
her birthday (November 4th), and that’s when
they found a tick on her — the very first one
she’s ever had. The next day, on her birthday,
I noticed the first signs something wasn’t right. From there, the decline came quickly: fatigue, breathing changes, drainage, discomfort… and then this past week, she suddenly wouldn’t eat unless I fed her softly from my hand. That alone told me she wasn’t feeling well.
Today’s vet visit was a lot for her.
She’s lost more than two pounds, and they
believe she may be dealing with COPD and possibly some asthma. They also suspect
she might have a touch of bronchitis. She’s
been uncomfortable, but her little body isn’t
giving clear answers yet beyond the illness
she’s fighting.
She’s also been more unsettled at night.
When her anxiety rises, I take her to another
room so my husband can sleep, and she can
settle without feeling like she has to stay alert.
Last night was another long one… we’ve been
up since 2:30 this morning.
They gave her an antibiotic shot today, and we’re praying for relief in the next 24–48 hours.
She’ll return in a month for chest X-rays —
today she was already too drained from the bloodwork and the shot, and they didn’t want
to stress her further.
Her bloodwork thankfully showed no sign of
Lyme, which was a huge relief.
And I was able to bring home a prescription for Simparica, a once-a-month chew that kills ticks immediately if they bite her.
I hadn’t had her on it — I’ve always tried to do things as naturally as possible because she’s so tiny, and chemicals worry me.
But out here in the mountains, things are different. What worked in New York just isn’t strong enough. Even the vet told me today that the ticks right now are extremely small — almost impossible to see — another reminder that she needed stronger protection in this environment.
She isn’t eating today, but she is drinking water
— and right now, that feels like a small mercy to hold onto.
And if I’m honest…
walking into the vet’s office today felt heavy.
We lost Molly just 2½ months ago, and the thought of facing another goodbye so soon was more than my heart could bear.
I whispered quiet prayers over Macy’s little body
as we waited — asking God for comfort, for strength, for time.
These weeks with her have been tender,
sacred ground.
Hand-feeding her.
Holding her through long nights.
Watching her search for what she lost
when Molly passed.
Feeling that familiar fear that today
might be "too soon”…
and the deep relief when it wasn’t.
Tonight, I’m just praying for a better
tomorrow — and for restful sleep for both
me and my sweet Macy girl ❥
If you pray, would you keep her in yours?
She’s been the softest part of my heart for
over 13 years —
my comfort, my companion,
my little heartbeat at my feet.
💓🐾


















































































