My boy Pippin ate a stick and is in misery. So am I. The little wanker

[roguevalley]

won't keep out of the garbage and now has a wicker basket stick in his belly. He ran around the house shrieking because he got it embedded in his lip and when we got to the vet, I thought it would be a foot race between us who would die first. They got him all sorted out and felt his gullet from stem to stern. Their x-ray machine conked out that morning so they can't take a piccie until Monday morning.

Right now, he's lying in his kennel bed moaning and giving me the gimlet eye. Frankly, I think the medicine they gave him to feel his gullet is wearing off. He is an interesting dog. He's slightly autistic and so when he has a spell of insecurity, he gets under covers and buries himself until the covers are so tight, they give him relief.

My other dogs, two of three, have had infections. They are in varying stages of recovery. They are also like Pippin constipated a bit.

That leaves on in good shape. I have the phone number of another vet handy in case Pippin has a problem.
This is worst than parenthood. :)

Thanks for listening.

RV, with four weiner boys in the snow in Alaska