Oh! I thought. Is this dying?
I was still pondering this, when blackness came over me.
* * * *
I came to myself with the sensation of a wet tongue on my face. It was Jake, come to see if I was okay. I tried to raise my hand to pet him, but found I could barely lift my arm, I was so weak. So, I lay there, feeling my life energy return very slowly and murmuring soft words to reassure Jake, while my torpor-filled mind sorted through my situation. After several minutes, I realized I must have passed out. I hadn’t died after all.
It took deliberate effort to push away the feeling of disappointment at this.
And then it struck me that this was very funny, and I laughed weakly and reached up to gather my little dog into my arms—but shrieked with pain instead at the moment of touching him. Poo
