It was inevitable, I suppose. After a essay-slash-manifesto of dog-food information arrived (as requested) from Karin’s wandering pal Liz this morning, forwarded for my information, Karin apparently felt compelled to finally make that vet appointment for Sparkle. It seems she’ll be having a bit of a lesson in minor surgery next week as we pay to have her maternal capacity diminshed to nearly zero. No baby Sparkles for us. But I can picture it now: that look of betrayal in her eyes as we leave her at the vet. I’m cringing about it now.