We have two pugs: a black pug, Uke who is 12, and a fawn pug, Lili who is nine. I've never thought of myself as a "dog" person, but after nine years of marriage to a man who is I have to admit Uke and Lili have managed to work a little soft spot into my heart, and they really know how to work it.

We had to board our dogs last week, and we were about three hours into our trip when we got the voice mail, "now your dogs are fine, but please call back as soon as possible." Long story short: Uke has bladder stones, and she needs surgery. So today she went to the vet, and we won't know until 2:00 how the surgery went.  12 is pretty old for a pug, and we're just hoping she made it through the surgery.

I knew it would be hard this morning. Uke trembled like a leaf as I carried her out the door, and Lili frantically barked and clawed at her cage to get out so she could come too. She's never spent a moment apart from Uke since she was three months old. I just felt like the worst person in the world.

Oh, no, wait.  Fleeing the vet's office with Uke's hysterical barking in my ears, now that made me feel like the worst person in the world.

Now, I’m home with Lili, trying not to notice how she just sits in front of the door whining, and watching for it to open.

It's gonna be a long day.