I had a terrible week last week. It was a truly awful, horrible, no-good, vile, ghastly, and--most importantly--a heinous to my anus sort of week.
Because, after the first enema (and subsequent poopsplosions) of two weeks ago my trains still weren't running on time. Or at all, actually. So off to the vet I was hauled, singing the song of my people in the car, the lobby, and the examination room:
or click HERE
Turns out I was really Really REALLY backed up, but after two days, FOUR enemas and a manual disimpaction I'm pleased to report that my trains are finally leaving the station! Right now I'm getting lactulose and cisapride squirted down my gullet twice daily to help things along, and boy oh boy, do I feel better. I'm a maniac crazypants playful boy again! The peeps helicopter over me every time I bust a move towards The Box so it's a good thing I prefer to poop at night--but somehow Mommy can tell which deposit is mine (he's not as sneaky as he thinks--ed.) and I've been "productive" for five days in a row so far...so if I keep up the good work for a month I can start weaning my medicine and see how it goes, heh heh.
Mommy says for the amount of money she's spent I'd better start pooping gold, but naturally she's a rude thing. Plain old poop is good enough for her.
XX Maui XX