Whew!

After a quick stab with a syringe and aspiration onto a slide, it turns out his lump was a fatty tumor. When we received the diagnosis, my husband gave me a self-satisfied smirk..."I told you so." I ignored him, picked up my little man and nearly wept with relief. He's only 6 so we had "the talk" that night. I think I saw some comprehension in his eyes when I told him that as a little dog the expectation is that he lives to be at least 26. And that is non-negotiable.