If it wasn't yesterday, it was the day before when I thought to myself, You know somthing, good lookin'? You're pretty lucky that your new dog, Gary, hasn't been that shit and barf on the floor kind of sick dogs get yet. But I didn't think it in a thankful way. I thought in a congratulatory way, as though my care of the beast had prevented such a mishap.

To be honest, I didn't actually think the ...your new dog part. In my head, I just refer to him as Gary. But that's neither here nor there.

This morning, upon waking at my customary 6 am for deep meditation and calesthenics, Gary vomited on the floor. I felt badly for him, despite that the vomit was filled with undigested grass that I certainly didn't put in his mouth and force him to eat. I cleaned up the mess and set about prepping the little bastard for a walk. As we two moved to exit the house, I spied what was either canine diarrhea or a couple of cups of chocolate Jello pudding spilled on the floor of the front room. I moved closer to make an ID. Judging from the smell, either the pudding had gone bad or it was, in fact, canine diarhea. I cleaned that mess, too. The task was quite unpleasant.

I've since tried to determine the possible causes of the dog's stomach upset. There's the grass he's been grazing for the last week. In addition to his own food, last night he had small amounts of cream cheese, pastrami, Velveeta, and Healthy Choice bread. He also had one pistachio. And now I find out that cicadas are a possibility.


Gary licking his nose, shown in profile.

Analogcabin @ 11:39 AM
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