Everything seems much as normal for Lilith now – her pluth is growing back, the scar has healed nicely, and she’s starting to be more … herself. She is, occasionally, taking herself through the catflap; my heart is in my mouth, but I guess I’ll get used to it, and I wouldn’t attempt to confine her anyway.
Interestingly, since she came home, the boys have let her eat on her own; we put two bowls of food down every morning, and usually it’s just a melée, but since she’s been poorly Ron, Mustrum and Henry have gathered round one bowl, and left Lily to her own devices with the other one, only eating from it when she’d left. That changed yesterday, and Ron was troughing with her, and today too. Perhaps they sense her improvement too.
So, it’s been vile and horrible and expensive, but she is as well with it as is possible to be, I think. And better a three-legged Lily than no Lily at all. I’ve taken to calling her the ZombieCat, as she lurches about, but in truth she’s now moving pretty well. A couple of things threw her last week – a leap onto the landing bannister was a tad over-ambitious, and I thought she was going to topple over. And when she spotted the laundry basket was open, she made her usual dive for it, lost her balance on the edge and fell in.
The most disturbing thing is that she now looks exactly like Liessa, to the point where Pete and I have both found ourselves addressing her as Bada. This is scary; Liessa was already The People’s Princess reincarnated, and now she appears to have passed her Badaness on to Lilith. We are afraid.