Cecum or Spleen?

Last week as Spike hopped down the stairs (typical, as his legs are an inch long. How else would he get down them?) he farted. On every. single. step. So funny. But combine that with the lethal gases he emitted the previous evening and we've got a problem. Some concerns.

Then, to add to our worries - Spike did not eat breakfast.

Spike eats everything. His diet often consists of transmission fluid as an appetizer followed by paint primer with a side of blanket, and a dessert of poop. Poop. And some pool water, because you know, it cleanses the system better than regular water.

Anyway. He wouldn't eat. Boyfriend was worried, I was worried. He left work to check on him and decided to take him to the vet. We heart our vet. I would drive lots of miles to get to them. They were wonderful with Atticus and Scout (I took Scout when she was going potty outside her boxes and they had to draw out her urine with a needle and she no-likey and I could hear her scream and yowl from another room. The vet came in, grabbed her kitty case, and said, "I'm just gonna grab this and put her in it. She's a little pissed off right now." So funny. It was at this point that Scout ended up on Prozac. The vet made me choose beef, chicken, or fish flavored Prozac. Seeing as how I don't care for fish, we don't eat red meat, I ended up choosing chicken. I hate speaking for Scoutie, but she seemed okay with it.).

Plus, they were wonderful when Scout died so suddenly in February. They even did her paw print in clay so I can keep it forever. So nice.

Anyway. Back to the emergency. They do x-rays. They don't see anything but an enlarged spot in his belly. Jeremiah calls (I can hear Spike barking from the x-ray room) and tells me it's his spleen. I ask tons of questions, get very few answers. I decide that Jer is NOT going to be helpful enough for my liking and I decide to call the vet later myself.

The vet is available to talk (so nice. heart my vet.) and he laughingly informs me that it wasn't his spleen but his cecum, which is an intestinal type thing. He ate something that caused an infection, which caused the endless gas and bloating.

The only other information Jeremiah gave me? That was wrong, too. Mr. Vet told me that he gets A LOT of women calling to check on things after their significant others have brought in a pet. We had a nice laugh about that.

Jeremiah is now required to cook Spikey Spikersons a meal (twice a day) of rice and scrambled egg. Can I just say? Do you know what I had for breakfast? Burned toast that was flourless and nature-y. Tasted like tree bark. I'm tempted daily to eat the breakfast so lovingly created for the wiener.

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