Come Home Mom

We were in Japan when the call came.

Bella wasn’t herself. She wasn’t eating. She wasn’t playing. She didn’t even want to go out. Nishtha and Timse decided to take her to the vet and told us they’d keep us updated.

When the platelets went down again, I felt my heart drop — but I held on to hope. She had recovered before.

Then came the next call.

There was blood in her urine.

Nishtha said quietly, “Aunty… maybe she would feel better if you were here.”

Ria and I didn’t think twice. We cut the trip short and flew back to San Jose.

They told us not to panic. That she was weak. That we should be prepared.

But nothing prepares you.

When I saw Bella lying in her pink cozy bed, I expected her to move. To wag her tail. To jump — even just a little.

She looked at us.

And then she lowered her head.

No energy. No spark. Just those eyes, still watching us.

We carried her home. We cried the entire way.

Aaryan flew in from LA the moment he heard.

The vet had told us to feed her as much as possible — she wasn’t eating or drinking on her own. We tried.

An hour later, Timse tried to take her out to pee.

It was blood.

Everywhere.

I called Ratul-her vet, and explained everything.

He didn’t hesitate.

“Take her to the emergency. Now.”

We Tried Everything

At the emergency hospital, everything moved fast.

Tests. Machines. Serious faces.

And then the words no one is ready to hear.

“She won’t make it. You should consider putting her down.”

Aaryan and I broke down. Ria stepped away to call her dad. My body felt numb, like I was standing somewhere far away watching this happen to someone else.

I called Ratul.

He spoke to the emergency vet, reviewed the reports, and then said something I will never forget:

“Shaily, I know how much Bella means to you. The reports are bad. I know you won’t care about anything except trying to save her. So do what is possible. Try. And hope. And pray.”

That was all I needed to hear.

We decided to go ahead with a blood transfusion.

Seeing Bella lying there — so small, so quiet, tubes attached to her little body — was unbearable. Her eyes did all the talking. They held sadness, exhaustion, and something else… like she knew how serious this was.

Friends came in quietly. Nishtha. Timse. Aditya. Each one took turns to see her, to whisper love, to be present.

For two days, we lived between hospital corridors and waiting rooms. Doctors told us she had developed jaundice. They said there was a fifty percent chance when we admitted her.

Fifty percent felt like hope.

The Never Ending Night

The next day, she was the same.

The doctors said they were trying everything they could.

That night, Aaryan and I went to see Bella. Ria couldn’t get to see her again in that state. I picked her up carefully and held her close. I sang to her — softly, the way I always did.

She looked at me.

And then she moved her paw.

Just a little.

But enough.

Enough to make our hearts jump. Enough to make us believe — maybe, just maybe — there was light at the end of this tunnel.

We smiled through tears. We held onto that moment. The three of us went home carrying a fragile kind of hope.

An hour later, the phone rang.

Bella had suffered a neurological stroke.

What we thought was a response… wasn’t.

It was a stroke.

And just like that, the hope we were holding so carefully slipped through our fingers.