Coincidentally, for a couple of days now, both the dog and I have been on our death beds. Let's just say we both had a little issue with our tummies. (too many gross details, so I won't go further than that.)
I merely moan and groan in my bed/bathroom for hours on end, but Ranger gets a quick trip to the vet and comes home with this:
Yep. I somehow have to get 6 prescriptions in my dog 2x a day for the next couple of weeks.... and then when we use up this fancy sensitive tummy food, I'll get to make him rice and boiled chicken until he's all better. (while I languish away eating Popsicles and ice chips.)
Nope. They don't know what's wrong with him. Best guess - dufus got into a plant that isn't exactly edible.
I love this dog, I love this dog, I love this dog.
(keep saying it, and maybe I'll forget the $300 bill and this little pill regiment.... right?)
Meanwhile, I'm too cheap and too lazy to take my sick self to the doctor to end my own misery.