As I sat with Bella in the surgery waiting for our lovely vet to come back and tell me what she’d found in the liquid aspirated from Bella’s latest lump, I thought about how sometimes when you’re waiting time feels as though it’s stopped.

Trapped in a moment where the second hand on the clock seems to take a full minute to move just once. When Jo saying she’d be a minute and disappearing with the sample to look at it under the microscope, felt like it was said in a slow motion vacuum.

The only thing that speeds up during that time is my heartbeat.

Nothing can possibly be wrong with my precious Bella. We made a deal when I rescued her. And she’s already had one cancerous lump removed, so there is absolutely no room in our deal for another thing to be wrong with her. Ever.

Thankfully – after what seemed like a week – Jo came back to say the lump was nothing to worry about. It was in  different shape and feel to the other lumps she’s had which were nothing. More similar in shape to her one that turned out to be cancerous, so good to check.

My almost 8 year old puppy seemed to share my relief, and smiled an open mouth, tongue out smile at me. I kissed the top of her fuzzy head, gave her a cuddle and breathed again.

Beary, who was there for support {or because he couldn’t possibly stay home when I’m taking his big sister somewhere}, was doing his own kind of waiting.

Waiting for someone to fall for his gorgeousness and give him treats. Big goofball that he is. It worked too!