fair is what you pay to ride the bus

It seems that God is trying to extract payment from me for giving me this miracle pregnancy. I don't necessarily believe in a vindictive God, really, but I do believe in cosmic balance, in Karma. Do good, and good things will happen. Do bad and a plague upon your house. But what if I'm all wrong, and cosmic balance requires a bad event to neutralize a good one?
Disaster has never danced so close to me as it has since I became pregnant: the economy/stock market; my dad's heart attack; Mr. R's job; my library's levy. These were all big, nasty things that almost happened but didn't. Like maybe Vindictive God is spinning a wheel, red-I-get-her-father, black-and-its-her-livelihood . . .
My dog is really sick. He had some type of episode in February that I erroneously thought was a reaction to heart worm medication because it came on like a runaway train and reduced him to a shivering, vomiting, shadow of himself. He's improved, but he's not fully recovered, and now he's getting worse. Since Tuesday he has barfed every day. I put him back on his old food and made an appointment for blood work, etc., for next Tuesday. This morning, he projectile-vomited and refused to eat his breakfast. At this rate, he simply won't survive until Tuesday. I asked Mr R if he could take the dog in today since I could not get out of work, and he said, "absolutely."
Silver lining? You bet.
Vindictive God? If you're listening, this little dog doesn't deserve this, and neither do I. If you'll recall, I never asked you for a baby, I asked that your will be done, and I was fully prepared to accept infertility if that be your will.
You know my heart.
Please don't take my dog.
It's simply not fair.