Liver Not-News

The vet called with the results of the blood work from last week. And the news was really not-news. We got nothing.  My thyroid is fine. My cholesterol and triglycerides are a little high, but not high enough to do anything to my liver.

Yes, it's wonderful that everything is o.k.  The problem, however, is that we still don't know why my liver is being wonky.

The vet is out of ideas, too.  So, our options are:

1. Have my vet do a very-expensive, very-invasive liver biopsy. (Mom says it's not an option.)
2. Go to the local university animal hospital for another opinion. (They're very expensive.)
3. Have the vet research and find a specialist to go to in a big city.  (Expensive, plus lots of travel.)

Mom's got some stuff to think about now.  

On a completely unrelated note, please enjoy this photo of me, drenched from poopin' in the rain, attacking a massive caterpillar...

         

Puppy Poetry: Rainy Days

Rainy Days

We've had a lot of rain here,

Falling in big drops from the sky.

The grass is green and happy,

But I prefer staying dry.

That rain makes it difficult,

To go outside and do my duty.

With the grass so sopping wet,

It gets all over my booty!

So I've come to a conclusion.

And I know just what I'll do.

Until the sun comes out again,

I'll refuse to go out to poo!

Staying inside...and staying dry...

Rainy Night Argument

It was a rainy, rainy night tonight. All evening...rain, rain, rain.

When you gotta go outside to potty, the rain poses a bit of a problem. And when you don't like to get wet, then it's an even larger issue. And when you need to spend some time to, well, take care of your business outside, then the stupid rain is a huge, horrendous catastrophe.

That's the basis of the argument that Mom and I got into tonight. She said that I was too antsy because I had to poo and refused to do it. I said that there was no way I was going to do that when it was pouring down rain outside. I do not like to get wet.

After several rounds of bickering this evening, Mom did the unthinkable. She had the nerve to take me out on my leash and MAKE ME STAY OUTSIDE -- in the rain -- until I went poo! She kept yelling at me "GO POOP! GO POOP!" in the pouring rain. I got soaked. Mom got soaked. Eventually, though, I just broke down and did my thing so that we could go inside and she'd stop yelling "GO POOP!" like a crazy woman.

But when we got inside, I sure gave her the stink eye.

And then I went and hid under the blankie on the couch.

I really think this qualifies as doggie abuse. I'm sure of it. My only consolation is the fact that Mom got soaking wet right along with me. And, of course, all of our neighbors now think she's absolutely nuts...