I love animals

My husband forgot to close the balcony window before bed last night. We were in a rush to work this morning and didn’t notice until I came home at noon feeling dizzy—only to find Ju Ju, the orange cat I’ve raised for three years, had fallen from the 16th floor.
I rushed downstairs like a madwoman. The property manager pointed to the flower bed: “Young lady, I just saw an orange cat lying there, crying so pitifully. I was about to contact the residents!” I ran over, and Ju Ju struggled to lift its head when it saw me, weakly pawing at my pants with a faint mewl. When I picked it up, my hands were instantly stained with warm blood. Tears fell on its fur: “Hold on, Ju Ju! Big sis is taking you to the hospital!”
My husband arrived at the hospital as I was crouched outside the emergency room, crying. He tried to touch me, but I turned away: “Why didn’t you close the window? You know Ju Ju loves climbing the balcony railing!” He hung his head: “I was too tired last night, I forgot…” I didn’t listen, my only thought was: Even if it drains our savings, I have to save Ju Ju.
The doctor said Ju Ju had internal bleeding and needed emergency surgery. My hands shook as I signed the consent form, begging the nurse: “Please, you have to save it.” At 2 a.m., the doctor said the surgery was successful and showed me a video of Ju Ju drinking water. I thought the worst was over—but at 6 a.m., the nurse rushed in: “Ma’am, Ju Ju’s condition is deteriorating!”
When I ran into the room, Ju Ju had stopped breathing. The doctor patted my shoulder: “We did all we could.” I didn’t scream or cry—just sat by the bed, stroking Ju Ju’s cooling body, when a terrible thought crossed my mind: Why did it have to be Ju Ju instead of A Hei?
A Hei is the black dog my husband had since before we married. Last year, it bit Ju Ju’s leg, and ever since, Ju Ju avoided it. Now, because of his carelessness, my Ju Ju is gone—so why does his A Hei get to live untouched?
Later, when my husband wanted to bring A Hei home from his shop, I refused: “Leave it there. I don’t want to see it.” He tried to persuade me, but I walked away: “I’ll never have another cat. Never.”
The balcony window is now always closed. Ju Ju’s little bed remains where it was. Sometimes I sit beside it, touching the bits of leftover fur, almost feeling its warmth. But every time I see my husband, I remember that open window—some regrets can never be forgiven.

Source