Dawgs

Okay...

Tuesday night our bigboy-goodboy GSD surprised us by vomiting a pint of blood onto the bedroom floor. Since that moment, it's been a roller coaster of vets, tests, hopes and fears. Just got the word: the big guy has -- ulcers. And I wouldn't think he has a care in the world besides keeping his pack-mate off his butt.

Thankfully, his prognosis is very good. Although, he'll probably be putting up with my cooking - a bland diet of boiled chicken and rice - for the rest of his days. VCA was wonderful - and never-fear, very well recompensed for their efforts.

Incredibly, a neanderthalic knuckle-dragger can be instantly reduced to a blubbering idiot by the sight of his on-the-mend furkid. Who knew?

Not me.

Booker - Goofball Extraordinary