Hurry

Your dog is sick.

I have spent the last several weeks coaxing him to eat. He's always been weird about food. I've never met another dog who could probably pass the marshmallow test, if it were sufficiently explained to him. I also believe that he speaks English, which means it *could* be explained to him. He's a smart dog. But he's almost eleven, as I am almost thirty-eight. We're not what we once were.

This week was spent in a blur of vet appointments, blood tests, x-rays, and worry. The good news is, we've ruled out anything serious. It's quite possible, imaginary baby, that your dog merely is suffering from acid reflux. We are giving him Pepcid, and it may be my imagination, but it seems to me his appetite is coming back a little.

Last night he begged for pizza crust. I gave it to him, because I am weak.

But before we knew that it was probably not serious I indulged in some seriously catastrophic thinking. I was at the hair dresser, getting shampooed, when I realized that if your dog were seriously sick, then he might die before you get here. I discovered that I had built an elaborate fantasy life about the blossoming relationship between you and your dog. He's always been very serious about babies, and takes great responsibility on himself. In my mind's eye, I have seen him guarding you carefully while you slept. Him getting agitated while you cried. Him not letting me or your would-be father get too near you. You being taught, first things first, to be gentle to your dog. I was prepared to have to explain to you that all dogs get old some day. I imagined you inconsolable, and barely comprehending, a four year old abandoned to grief over the loss of your dog.

Tears started dribbling into my ears as I slowly realized that no, I might have to bear the loss of your dog myself, without you. If I'm not putting up a front for you, then what will save me from my miserable sadness when we finally lose your dog?

You have work to do, imaginary baby. He's getting better this time, but he's eleven.

You have to hurry. Come exist in time to meet your dog.