Five weeks in, Copper stopped wanting to go up the stairs. He would stand at the bottom and look at her with an expression — not quite pain, not quite confusion. She started carrying his water bowl down to the ground floor so he didn’t have to climb. She told herself the medication just needed more time.
By the end of week six, the limp was worse than it had been at the start. The anti-inflammatories hadn’t worked. She called the clinic and got an appointment for the following Monday. When she hung up, she sat on the floor next to Copper and ran her hand along his leg. He let her do it without pulling away, which she took as a good sign. Looking back later, she realised it wasn’t.
She went into that second appointment still trusting the process. Six weeks had passed, as agreed. She had followed the instructions. She was doing everything right. She did not know yet that the six weeks had mattered in a way no one had warned her about.