On Tuesday evening, the walking stomach refused his dinner. On Wednesday morning, when I took him for his morning constitutional, he had a bout of diarrhea. I called the vet and they asked me to bring in a sample for them to test.

If we still had snow on the ground, this would have been easy. But we've had some warm weather, and by Wednesday, the woods were covered in dark brown leaves. With one dark brown pile hidden in them.

Luckily, while Caz was busy, I was looking at some branches that I'd sawed. I used those branches to get back to very nearly where the dropping was dropped. I could smell it, but had to look for several minutes to find it.

I never realized how good a pile of dog-dropping's protective coloration is. They obviously evolved to hide in forests.

I'm insufferably pleased to announce that I did not find it by stepping in it. But I'll confess it was close.

The vet recommended some Pepcid or Prilosec to settle Caz's stomach. The pepcid I've got is fruit-flavored rolaids with pepcid.

Caz has learned about medicine from the cats: you don't need to take medicine unless there's a good treat included. Wrapping the big Rolaid pills in cheese didn't work, but making a tuna sandwich with the pills as "bread" was acceptable.

On Thursday, I got clever and checked Carol's old pills. Luckily, I haven't gone through her collection and tossed things yet. One of the pills she was taking was Prilosec. This is a small capsule, and easy to hide in a treat.

On Friday, he was still having issues, so the vet suggested some special tender-stomach canned food. I don't know how this tastes, but it smells just like Dinty Moore beef stew. Caz thinks it's the greatest thing since ... well, since ANYTHING!

The cats are also thrilled by this food.

Mark needs twice a day medication, so I grind up his pills and mix them with a fancy cat treat. If Mark eats, so does Miles, but he doesn't get the medication, which suits him fine.

While the cats are eating, Caz sits nearby and makes sure they understand that if this is too much for them, he can help.

The cats are *NOT* that understanding when Caz gets his special food. I had to guard Caz and offer the cats small samples of the special food on my fingertips to keep them from trying to push him away.

By Saturday, Caz was acting more like himself--eating anything he could fit down his throat, and wanting to play. He's bored-bored-bored. Not knowing if he had a bug or ate something, I put him in quarantine until his innards settle down. He missed two play-dates at the doggy-daycare, and a run with his favorite aunt.