Kitty is a little black-and-brown Australian dog. It's not a particularly bright dog. While Dad can make my sister and me afraid just by the tone of his voice, I have never heard him raise his voice at Kitty. In fact, one look from Kitty at the biscuit tin is enough to send my dad flying to get him a snack. Whenever we protest  about the unfair treatment, Dad has a sorry smile on his face. It's become a long-standing family joke that Kitty is the closest thing to a son Dad will ever have. Then, five years ago, our lives were turned upside down when Dad suffered two major strokes within a month. For four long months, mentally he was non-responsive. We had to take turns standing by his bedside to protect him. We were exhausted after every "shift" but grateful that he was still alive. As the months went by, I couldn't help but talk about Kitty constantly, often hoping that Dad could show some awareness of what I said. Then one day, without even realizing it, I blurted out , "Is Kitty a tiger?" Dad began to smile. It was the first sign in four months that Dad had showed any awareness of what I said. Seeing this, the whole family felt a huge weight lift from our shoulders. Over the next nine months, Dad had to learn all the basic things we take for granted. Dad, who was an independent man with a successful career before all this happened, found it increasingly frustrating . The only thing that ever brought a smile to his face was talk of Kitty. When we massaged Dad's arms and legs to prevent his muscles from weakening, I would always say: "Now all you need is Kitty to give you a 'lick-lick' foot massage!" No matter how many times I repeated this comment, the whole family would laugh. During the next nine months, Dad  _  .
felt discouraged while learning the basic things enjoyed being massaged by three women often needed the stories of Kitty would like Kitty to accompany him