Plans are made to be broken

With Mike still out of town, my plan for Saturday morning: 1) run, 2) go to the farmer's market, 3) go to a demonstration at a local quilt shop

Well, I got my run in (wearing my blaze orange vest in honor of the opening day of the deer fire-arms hunting season), but then had to take Alex to the vet instead. We were both pretty unhappy last night about his bout of digestive distress and the need for an immediate back-end bath. No parasites this time, though, and the vet couldn't identify a specific cause. Perhaps his occasional sneezing and runny nose were signs of a bacterial sinus infection, and this was a side effect? Compounded with the stress of Mike's absence? We've got some prescription food for a few days, and an antibiotic shot, so hopefully his gurgly gut will calm down soon.

Our 6.5 pounds of furball fury has made quite an impression at the vets, after biting the technician during some sort of procedure on his last visit. They treated him with kid gloves today, wrapping him in a towel, keeping his head away from everyone's hands, and trying to keep him as calm as possible. It's kind of funny, but for such a tiny creature, he's quite strong willed, and obviously not a very good patient.