Carolyn's words sent a chill of dread though me. "Fargo has a new lump." Sure enough, there it was, very near the site of a malignancy that had been removed from his right foreleg five months before. I was sick with worry. We rushed Fargo to our vet, Mike Smith at Country Hills Animal Clinic. He recommended surgical removal of the tumor. We left Fargo with Mike and went home, distraught and expecting the worst.

Our fears, thank heavens, were unfounded. At this moment, Fargo's chin rests on my right knee and his soulful eyes are upon mine. I can read his mind. He's saying, in wordless, guileless dog-speak, "I love you; scratch my ears." So the crisis is past, the outlook good. The tumor was benign and x-ray films clear.

For those who missed our last issue, Fargo, a nine-year-old black male rescue, has been part of the Mittell household for six months now. It took that long to be sure of a cure and thus of his adoptability. The trouble is, this was more than enough time for the bond between us to grow so strong that we just can't let him go. Hence, we've paid the adoption fee, signed the Terms of Adoption, and now he's ours. More to the point, we're his. Fargo is home.