The old dog is sick.
I know it's a tough old world, but one thing that's no good at all is when the dog makes a mess in the house, slips and falls in it, and because of her bad legs, can't raise herself up off the wet floor and has to lie in it until someone comes along and helps her.
Chrissy the dog is a former death row inmate whose sentence was commuted to house arrest when we brought her home from the Washington County animal shelter in March 1991 - so she is 14 years old. It has been retold here before, and not for the last time, that years ago, Judge Jones and his wife saw us on the street with the dog and he said she is a cute puppy. Even though this was before he was judge, I consider his opinion in this instance a matter of res judicata.
We went to see the vet this morning. The doctor prescribed for the dog a course of Metronidazole. The last time the dog took this medicine, I was taking it, too, for Crohn's disease. It worked for the dog but not for me. On the topic of Crohn's, while the dog has the bad belly, I've been the night nurse. My wife says this should be no imposition, since I'm generally up and down all night anyway, which is true and has been for these many years.
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