After all the outpouring of support and qualified grief engendered by my last post, it is my happy duty to report that Riley has returned from the hospital, alive no less. (He seemed stuffed last week, but I don’t think I would have brought him back that way. Too Ringo Starr.)

The cause of his ailments is still under investigation. Seems West Highland Terriers are subject to liver disease, including one that involves an accumulation of copper. Really. But after ten days (and much more than ten dollars) and a non-stop IV drip, he is back among the living. Tail a-waggin’ even.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” one of the concerned vets said, and though she didn’t use the word miracle, I think the secret ingredient may have been the golden light I was trying to project onto him. I’m working on a book with a “clairvoyant counselor” who teaches people how to, among other things, project golden healing light. I’m not sure I was doing it right when I held him last week — I couldn’t actually visualize it — but I don’t think I hurt.

Then again it might have just been the promise of chicken if he got better.