Upon waking to find more poop in the crate this morning and a complete lack of improvement in condition of the poor doggy, I determined a trip to the emergency vet was in order. I consulted with the parental unit first and learned through them that our regular vet is out of town so waiting a day wouldn't have gotten me anywhere. Apparently they had also just paid a visit to the emergency vet on account of an injury to their dog's back (he seemed fine when I saw him yesterday, odd).
I was concerned about a potential blockage because Mr. Dog will eat anything small enough to fit in his mouth. He also appeared lethargic and "depressed" this morning (who wouldn't with all that pottying going on?). So off we went to wait and wait and wait.
The vet wasn't able to provide a diagnosis, but she didn't seem concerned about an obstruction. She prescribed an antibiotic and some bland canned food. So far I've seen no improvement. I suppose it's too soon to tell, but I'm afraid I may have wasted all that money for naught. Please cure the pup!
With all that excitement and stress I managed to write a fairly lousy paper that I submitted to the web-based-learning-tool late this afternoon. Then I promptly started reading the chapter on which I had to write another short paper. When I finished the first draft of that I decided I had earned a walk and set out in my neighborhood. I left Mr. Dog at home because of his delicate condition, and I felt practically naked without him.
I meant to come right home and crack open the next book, but somehow I ended up with a Woodchuck in my hand instead. It really hits the spot after the past few days.