Frankly, terrified

Still no biopsy results.   All the signs and signals are screaming at me that it’s going to be fine, that it’s benign, that he’s fine, he’ll be fine, he’ll recover from the surgery and all will be well.

He’s so much better than a week ago.   He’s even getting up and down better.   His appetite sucks, but he’s on meds that may be making food taste funny.  And he’s getting spoiled like crazy with cheese and chicken and cream cheese and peanut butter and treats so why eat regular food?

So many people are praying for him.   Max, my Max, my baby boy, has a fan club that is just unbelievably huge – people all over the world are pulling for him, praying that that one word is all we hear tomorrow.   Benign.   Hemangioma.    That’s all we need.

I know, I say that he’s the sweetest dog in the world.   I’m not exaggerating, he is truly the sweetest dog who ever drew breath.   He thinks everyone he meets is his new best friend.  He loves everyone, no matter how they look, or smell, or dress.   He doesn’t care about money, or status, he only cares about “will you pet me, please?   Oh, and if you have treats that would be very nice, but if you let me lean on you and you pet me, you will be my new best friend and I will love you forever.”

One time we were walking at the park.   A man approached us.   He was a small man, sort of round, wearing a bright yellow sweater.   When Max saw him, he got so excited, he was wiggling all over, and he wove his body around this man, quivering with joy.   It was like two old friends meeting after years of being apart.   The man was glowing with love for this dog, petting him and hugging him and laughing.   I laughed from the sheer joy of watching them and asked, “Have we met you before?”   He just laughed and said no.

I believe in angels.  I believe that man in the yellow sweater was an angel, and he recognized a kindred spirit in my Max.   I really pray he’s with us tonight and tomorrow.

 

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