White Dog's tummy is gurgly. I can hear it as she lays against me on the arm of the chair. When she jumps up, looking distressed, and dashes for outside, I fear that she is about to lose lunch. White Dog returns agitated and restless but before she can run back out, the poor baby vomits again. She is shamed as I clean up but I hold her and whisper kindnesses in her ear. Soon she is asleep on my shoulder and I cradle White Dog long after my arm goes numb.