I was watching her struggle, and there was nothing I could do to help her. My other human heard her struggling and came running from the other room. By the time he arrived, air was making its way to her lungs. Thank the angels, above. She had choked on her food, again.
Her breathing was labored, I could tell. I watched her as she leaned on a piece of furniture while he rubbed her back, trying to help her to feel better. She was shaking, and she was weak. Struggling for air must be hard on her body.
He tucked her into the bed, kissed her face and told her to rest. Then, he cleaned up the remaining dinner that fell on the floor when she started choking. I was a good boy, I didn’t even touch the food on the floor. He petted me and said, “She will be okay, Boy.” He knew I was worried.
She said to him, “This is how I will die, you know. Choking will be the death of me one day.”
I wish she wouldn’t say that. It scares me.
I hopped up on the bed and gently laid my head on her arm. I wanted to watch her; listen to her breathe. I wanted her to see me love her.