Yum!

Jib here.
Mom is busy. Very busy. She is cooking.
She is cooking meat loaf. She is cooking chicken. She is cooking vegetables and yogurt and apple cider vinegar and kelp and eggs.
Lots of it.
All for Sailor!
Because he is taking medicine for his rear end. To make him strong. To make him walk instead of collapse.
Mom says the medicine makes it necessary for him to eat cooked food.
I want some!! No, I want it all!
Mom says I will still eat my regular raw diet.
Well...
Well...
Well, okay.

But just a taste????

HOME!!

Sailor here.
I'm home! I'm home! I'm home!
I walked around the yard. Two times.
I peed in the bushes. Three times.
I drank water. More times than I can count.
I took a nap on my Sailor quilt.
I'm home!

Still Here

Sailor here.

I'm still here. Here in the hospital.

But I can walk today if someone helps me across the shiny floor. The floor is shiny. The floor is slippery. I drool when I walk across it. And I don't like walking across it.

Mom came to see me and my people took me to a special room to visit. I didn't like the floor on the way. I didn't like the floor in the room. But Mom sat next to me on a blanket and the blanket wasn't slippery. I didn't want to lie down at first, but the floor didn't move and neither did the blanket.

I told Mom I was thirsty and she gave me some water. It was good.

I told Mom I was hungry, and she gave me a snack. It was even better.

Then I needed to pee. I told Mom and Mom helped me outside. The floor to outside wasn't slippery. The sidewalk wasn't slippery. I peed. A long pee. Ahhhhh.

On the way back inside, I had to sit down because my rear end stopped following me. But then I got up, it did to, and we went back into our room.

I relaxed. I stopped panting and drooling so much. Mom was there. Everything was OK.

And when Mom took me back to my cage, I walked on the shiny floor. 

So there, floor!

The Hospital!

Sailor here.
I am in the hospital. Not the horse-pital; I am not a horse. The dog-hospital. Except there are cats here, too. But more dogs than cats.
I am here because I am sick. Mom says I might have something called MG. It stands for something I can't spell. Or say. But it sounds rude, like My Ass Gravity.
I don't much like it here.
It all started when Mom took me to Dr. Karen because I couldn't walk very well. My rear end was weak, it hurt, I was unhappy. Dr. Karen took pictures of me. I didn't much like that. She gave Mom medicine for me. It didn't much help. I hurt.
So Mom called Dr. Karen back and she told Mom to take me to another place, the hospital where I am now. The doctor there took more pictures of me. I didn't much like that. But they gave me medicine that made me sleepy and not hurt. And it made me a bit goofy. I didn't mind that part.
I am living here now. I am in a cage. On some blankets. With a pillow. I don't much like my cage.
I drool. I can't walk or stand up. I can sit up, though. But not for long. I don't much like that.
I am getting other medicine that is supposed to help me stand and walk. It isn't working yet. I don't much like that, either.
Mom visits. Today she fed me real chicken. I liked that. Then she tried to feed me something that she says was dog food but really wasn't. I didn't much like it. I spit it out. Ptui! All the way across my cage. Mom laughed and then brought me more chicken. I liked that. Much. And she gave me water. She says that I can have all the room service I want.
The people who live with me here are nice, but they do rude things to my read end, especially when I have to pee. Because I can't stand. I don't much like that. They take my temperature, too. I really don't like that.
I with I could go home with Mom, but Mom says I have to stay until the medicine works. I wish Mom could stay with me.
But she can't. She has Jib and Zoe to feed. But she left me her T-shirt so my cage smells like Mom. It makes me not so much not like it here.
Mom says she will be back tomorrow and every day I am here.
I really want to go home.