Stop it! Pat me again. Diesel looks up into my eyes as my hand moves over his fur. Trust me as I trust you.

I swallow hard as I stroke his neck and down his rib cage. But you shouldn’t have trusted me that day.

Love and trust always. I feel his heart pound against his rib cage. Love and trust, love and trust.

The swirling in my brain slows and then stops. I finish most of my sandwich, take a swallow of milk, and hear more of Diesel’s thoughts.

Mmmm, crusts. So crispy and flavourful. Even though his communication with me can’t be normal, his voice inside my head comforts me. It feels as though it’s always been there, calming me.

I am talking inside your head to help.

While Luanne plays with her sandwich boats, I dish up some kibble for Diesel, but he gives me a mournful look. After all I’ve done for you. Kibble?

“It’s good for you. It will help you stay alive longer,” I tell him.

But if I can only eat kibble, why would I want to?

Oh fine! I rip off the last corner of my sandwich and pitch it in the air. Diesel snaps it up before it lands.

Thank you! Yummy.

Meanwhile, Luanne’s eyes droop as her chewing slows down.

“You need a nap, baby.”

Her head bobs up. “No nap.” Then it nods down again. She’s falling asleep in the chair, which doesn’t look comfortable at all. Or safe. I have to keep everyone in my family safe.

Everyone in our pack, Diesel agrees.

“Come on. You can use my bed.” I undo the booster straps and carry her all the way upstairs to my room, Diesel pushing me to the side as he leads the way. “Hey! Careful!” I yell at him.

I must go first to check for predators.

“You happy?” I ask as he circles my room.

He slumps on the floor. Yes. All clear.

I lower Luanne onto my bed. When her body touches the mattress, her eyes pop open again.

“No nap,” she cries, her little fists hitting my chest.

“No hitting!” I grab her hands and look her in the eyes. “If you promise to stay in the stroller, we’ll just walk around the yard.”

“Walkies!” she burbles.

Walkies! Diesel agrees.

Going back outside in that heat — how could I suggest that? Last time through, Luanne and I stayed in Aunt Cathie’s cool basement watching kids’ shows on a fuzzy screen all afternoon.

But now Diesel and Luanne both stare up at me, glomming on to the idea. “All right then,” I say. Luanne in my arms, we head downstairs. My goal is, of course, for the motion to lull her to sleep. I strap her into the stroller and allow Diesel to rush out the back door ahead of us to “check for predators.” That way he won’t bowl us over. Safer for all.

Then I lift the stroller down the steps to the patchy grass and hard dirt that is our lawn. The parched ground makes pushing Luanne around a little easier, so I walk the stroller along the fence. The first time around the yard, Luanne’s head begins to nod. On the second pass, her head droops. The third pass, she slumps totally asleep.