We had called the hospital last night and this morning, a fairly useless exercise, for what else would those responding inform us but that Riley had spent a quiet, peaceful night. He was, after all, heavily sedated, along with the IV lines sustaining him and bringing him to a better physical place than his sudden collapse into ill health had left him after an exhausting week of declining symptoms into utter lethargy and quiet desperation.

But we did receive the morning call we were anticipating afterward, when the ultrasound had been conducted and the results examined by the veterinarians at the hospital. Who had concluded that it wasn't his liver after all that was the source of the problem, but his gall bladder which had shut down operation and had infected his liver. That small organ was in such a parlous condition it was on the verge of bursting, which made it mandatory if his life was to be extended, to have surgery immediately.

While we authorized surgery to proceed over the telephone, we made haste to drive to the hospital to sign the authorization and to pay up front 50% of the cost it would take to hope to restore him to health. Hope is the operative word here. Much can go wrong, including the application of anaesthetic, the discovery after a liver biopsy that there was a problem with that organ as well after all, or that bile had flushed into the liver creating complications. Or that, if he does indeed also have Cushing's disease, making him more vulnerable to infections that state might conceivably compromise his recovery, post-surgery.

But in life as in health as in attempts to restore good health there are no guarantees and none would be forthcoming, since as a reassurance, it is a false one.

We spoke to several of the veterinarians who are looking after our little Riley, each did his and her utmost to inform us with as much details and cautions as they could muster. We looked again at the X-rays, at the ultrasound photographs, listened to the descriptions of the surgical scenario and its aftermath.

In a sense a reassurance since removal of the gall bladder does not imperil his life; a diagnosis of cancer or that the liver is beyond repair, would. So where there is an avenue of remedy, there is hope.

After we left the hospital and undertook the long drive home under an aquarium-grey sky and falling rain, we spoke little, but did reassure one another in the way that complete fusion of two souls is capable of doing.

As we entered the house there was the sound of a male voice speaking; it was the surgeon preparing to operate and just touching base with us to give his own assurances, before proceeding. We picked up the telephone just as he was concluding his message, and that gave us an opportunity to talk back and forth for a few minutes; his voice kind and concerned, and, we imagined, reflecting his capable expertise.