he's scrumptious.

Yesterday, we picked Our Hairy Friend up from MedVets, a specialty clinic in Columbus that Dr. Bev had referred us to. Wrigley stayed there Thursday and Friday nights after having been hospitalized at Dr. Bev's place Wednesday. We were all glad to get him home.

What we're learning is that Wrigley's illness is going to take time and patience to manage. That, plus a whole pharmacy worth of meds. Including a weekly injection of Vitamin B-12, which I am too squeamish to give. It's all very confusing: some things are given once daily, some every 12 hours, some with food, some on an empty stomach. Some things make him queasy, so we're trying hard to manage his food intake.

Fortunately, he's hungry, but we're figuring out what, when and how much to feed him. Carrots are the new Jump And Sit Bits: The new restricted diet (low-fat food, no table scraps) allows carrot, which he loves. So last night, as he was scarfing down carrots, I kept feeding them to him. Bad idea. Half an hour later I was collecting barfed-up carrot from the lawn. This morning, we've gradually given him about a cup of crunchy dog food, which has (knock wood) stayed down. Our task for today is to eat well without barfing. Baby steps.

We drove up to the Coffee Emporium this morning and spent a lovely hour outside with some good java and the NYTimes. Wrigley charmed the other patrons, most of whom asked if he's a puppy. Some folks noticed the shaved patches on his forelegs where he's had IVs this week. We simply said, "He's had a bit of work done." One person referred to a 30,000-mile tuneup. We laughed.

A pleasant older woman in a preppy-pink skirt said, "He's scrumptious!"

As he lies here next to me, napping comfortably, I have to agree.