Faithful followers of this blog will recall the Sunday I fell on my face in Petaluma. Several stitches in my chin, and a sore knee, but it could have been worse. Turns out, it was. I knocked a molar loose, and it is apparently beyond redemption or repair and now it has to come out. Tomorrow. Under anesthetic. Twilight sleep, they call it. I'm terrified.

I mean, suppose I don't wake up? What happens to Bao? I'm all he has. He's all I have. We're a team. We need each other. We love each other.

His Aunty Char and Uncle Bill will take care of him if the unthinkable happens. So we're not looking at animal shelters and euthanasia and thank God for that. But how will he cope? Dogs grieve, just like people. And you can't explain it, to a dog. You can't say, Your Mommy has gone to Heaven. Or crossed the Rainbow Bridge. Or whatever. Dogs don't understand. All they understand is that you've gone away and you haven't come back. And they don't understand that at all.

Bao knows something is up. He's staying very close. And I'm being silly, I know. It'll be okay.

But thank you for letting me share.