Nala, the Diagnosis
On a hot August day, I went back to Nala’s home. Nearly a month had passed since our first meeting. As Michele, Mike, and their son Bobby and I greeted one another, I noticed Nala pacing back and forth. I tried to get her to engage with me as she did the first time we met. She stopped the pacing and let me caress her gleaming smooth black side. Then, she turned and growled. I pulled away, and she continued pacing back and forth, back and forth.
“How’s she doing?” I asked. I missed the way she’d once gazed into my eyes. She now seemed unreachable.
“Big Dog’s got me real worried,” Mike said, and I smiled to hear him use Nala’s nickname.
“Mike was recently out of town,” Michelle said. “While he was gone Nala was so agitated and aggressive I could barely go near her…
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Terri Florentino 