Crisis
Four and a half months into our relationship, disaster struck. I woke up at 2 AM with the worst stomach pain of my life. Food poisoning, the doctors said, and I’d need at least three days of bed rest to recover.
“But what about Dumbo?” I asked from my hospital bed, my voice weak but my worry strong.
“Mike will handle his care,” the doctor assured me. “You need to focus on getting better.”
Focus on getting better? Was he kidding? All I could think about was Dumbo wondering where I was, maybe thinking I’d abandoned him like everyone else had.
“He’s never taken food from anyone but me,” I told Mike when he called to check on me. “What if he stops eating? What if he thinks I’m not coming back?”
“Emily, you need to rest. Dumbo will be fine for a few days.”
But deep down, we both knew better.
