monster sarcasm rally

So, Beandog had his vet appointment last night. Turns out I was wrong about the source of the problem. It wasn't inflamed bowel. It was — ahem — glandular in nature. It was easily cured with a latex glove and a big wad of Kleenex.

Nobody had thought of checking this before since big dogs don't normally have this problem. The reason he's had trouble knowing when he had to poop was that he's been in a constant state of feeling like he needs to let one go for several months. So, he hasn't exactly been in pain, but he's been, erm, uncomfortable.

And I am feeling like a very bad mother for not having been able to get to the bottom of this for so long. He's spent the last few months acting like a lethargic, cranky, old-man dog. He would walk up to me, stare at me and cry. And I didn't know why — mainly because I don't speak dog.

As soon as the deed had been done, I got my vibrant, energetic, happy dog back. He ran around the vet's office frightening cats and molesting other dogs, sticking his nose up any available skirt.

Later on last night, he got caught rifling through the garbage in the kitchen. He looked up and tried to proclaim his innocence — not an easy task, seeing as he was wearing the swing-top of the bin around his neck.

While it's all very happy and good, I'm still having an olfactory hallucination. In my mind, I can still smell that horrible gook that shot out my dog's butt. It's haunting me. It won't leave me alone. If you've never experienced it, get down on your knees right now and thank the Good Lord Above for his mercy.

Hmm... Guess I should have put a warning at the top of this post so those that are ill or eating could avert their eyes. Oh well.