And so I looked into the brown eyes in the bulbous head of my dogchild girlfriend. Was surgery the right step for her injury? Could we heal it another way? I asked her with my mind and was open to her answer, a telepathic message. What was best for her? What did she want?
She lifted her head and raised her nose to my mouth to sniff my breath stinking of sleep and breakfast. With a decade and more of interspecies communication between us, and acting as a pack, a team, she sent me as she always had a simple answer in part picture and part words.
“Bacon. ! ”