A glass of red wine sends streaks of pink across my polished wood bar; I reach for the glass and look at Lily. Eighty-two days I had waited to find out what is wrong with her. Since December 26 until Wednesday, March 17, I wondered why she had diarrhea and how we could stop it. The last couple of weeks left me wondering if we could stop it in time.

Lily was running out of body mass and energy. We would be out for a quick jog and she would just stop. Standing there in the road Lily would look at me the trees a passing car a neighbor, but she was not interested in taking another step. Pulling at her leash, her fur would bunch up behind her ears, but her feet stayed glued to that little patch of pavement. I think of the times she let me coax her. I guess she was putting up with me when I thought that I was helping.

A bad pancreas. It’s an answer and it’s something we can treat. Now I am wondering what kind of dog Lily will become once her weight is back. Already she is energetic and eager and ready to burst.