my assistant.

I'll take a quick timeout from the work projects I'm tackling at my home office this afternoon to note that it's nice to have a hairy executive assistant keeping me company. No matter that he's sleeping on the job and that he smells funny. Neither of these things is his fault -- he's been under the weather for a full month, and I'm guessing he's tired of feeling (literally) crappy. But we're working with our friend Dr. Bev to figure out what's gumming up the Wiggle Works (actually, quite the opposite is true) and get him fixed.

In spite of not feeling good, Wrigley has maintained his cheerful outlook, hearty appetite and interest in weird smells. After the doggie equivalent of a colonoscopy last Thursday, Wrigley had a big weekend, making his season debut at Findlay Market to much fanfare, treats and queries of, "What kind of dog is that?" We also took a big walk up to Hyde Park Square on Sunday morning to bark and cheer for the runners in the Flying Pig Marathon -- especially Rob, who ran a leg of the relay.

In spite of my concern over his health these past few weeks, I am decidedly NOT worried about him. Which surprises me, but also tells me that I know something about this dog. I feel bad that he feels bad, and I am impatient to treat him. We're inching toward a diagnosis and, most important, a plan to get this boy back in full swing. I'm sure all three of us will feel better when that happens.