little one

Ernest's stomach has been punky for the last day. He's happy to do almost anything include eat, but clearly that is not agreeing with him. The vet examined him and said it was either something he tangled with (roast of beef?) or something that is going around the neighborhood -- a virus of sorts. He's seen lots of dogs with the same sort of symptoms.

Nothing is harder than denying your dog his dinner and doling out meager rations of white rice and chicken breast every four hours in hopes it will stay down.

Anytime he gets sick, I worry. I did not give birth to him, but I still feel like I have known him since his early weeks of life. To me, he is still perfect -- with very few things that could possibly go wrong with him at his young age. To see him feeling under the weather kills me. To have him look at me accusingly as I try to eat my dinner is even worse than death.

Its been almost 90 minutes since his 1/2 cup of rice and .5 oz of chicken breast. Here's to hoping it will stay down for the next 270 minutes. If not, its going to be a long night of Ernest, myself and the couch.

nm