Elvis is asleep, curled on the floor near my desk, button black nose against his left paw. His little Yorkie ear is held straight out, erect, not folded. The trip to the vet this morning for his vaccination updates included an unexpected biopsy into a soft spongy mass discovered on his chest. She slid the needle into the lump, pumped the top twice, and suctioned cells into the vial. Using the needle’s tip, she smeared the clear jelly-like cells onto a transparent glass rectangle and handed it to her assistant. They left the room. He wanted off the steel table, but I clasped him against my heart, arms loose around him, my right hand rubbed his small neck. I waited. Elvis panted. Benign, accumulated fat cells.
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