We first notice it when he goes on his medicine hunt, watching out for the right grasses at the roadside on his morning walk. Then the stomach growls, which soon begin to sound more like a witch's cauldron...
It happens. George suffers from the occasional tummy problem, and we usually get past it with the aid of a Pepsid and a couple of days' bland diet. Never before, though, in our memory, has he refused to eat. A couple of days ago, he just stared mournfully at his breakfast and turned away. (He did, though, manage to down some egg--his favorite--a couple of hours later.)
We were alarmed. We took him to the vet, who prescribed (you guessed!) an antibiotic and requested a stool sample. Yesterday we fed him white rice and cottage cheese, with a little pumpkin thrown in for color. His appetite began to return. No poop, however, until this morning. Soon, I have to head over to the small animal hospital with a baggie, double wrapped.
Thankfully, he seems to be his usual genky self this morning. A bit crotchety, but that's to be allowed for a gentledog of his age--13 years old and counting.
Come to think of it, George is even older than myself, in dog years. And I've been known to be a bit crotchety, too.