My wife sent me a text a few hours ago to tell me that my mother-in-laws dog, Lucy, probably has cancer and is going to be put to sleep.  I can’t remember how long she’s had the dog, but I do remember that I am the one who picked it out for her.  My wife and I chose her from a group of young Yorkshire Terriers at my grandmother’s. 

She is a tiny teacup Yorkie and so lovable and sweet.  To see her is to instantly fall in love.  I normally hate the tiny ankle-biters, but every time I visit my in-laws, Lucy jumps up on my lap, rolls over, and demands to have her belly rubbed.

Cancer… man…  I’ve got a lot I could say about that.  One of my old friends’ mother died of lung cancer when he was a teenager.  One of my students had a brain tumor.  My grandpa had lung cancer and died of a stroke.  It’s been a drama twist used in nearly every television drama.  You wanna bring the tears, start a discussion about cancer.  But it’s real.

No more for now.

 Until later — “There’s no turning back now that you opened up to your mind.”