She’s home and seems to be doing all right—save for some blood seepage from the wound, which I am assured is normal. I think she was much more traumatized by her unwilling presence in the office of the veterinarian, whom she hates with hurricane fury, than the actual surgery. I, myself, was slightly traumatized when the vet and his assistant, even after having their hands inside her body, referred to her as “Little Guy.”

Now comes the anxious wait as the tumor is analyzed for the severity of the cancer. We will know by the end of the week whether it is unlikely to recur or whether it may have spread throughout her body.

Last night, Rob and I sat Goblin down for a family heart-to-heart. We told her what was going to happen today, that we loved her very much, and that we would always take care of her and protect her. She gave this information thoughtful consideration, looked us seriously in the eyes, and emitted a fart powerful enough to extinguish the sun.

And that, I suppose, was that.

Continuing gratitude from our family for all of your expressions of support and good energy.