Leakage

"It's okay...I don't like the taste of Crocs."

Jake, prior to having anal leakage, being a good boy at the lake house.

I am drained. Seriously, seriously drained. I'm tired of worrying, tired of going over our checking account 25 times a day...tired of basically being the OCD person that I am. I'm also tired of my dogs, bless their hearts. I love them more than I can express, but DEAR LORD. I never knew that a dog could cost so much money!

Jake, the loveable lump of love that he is, began to have some, um, anal leakage early on Monday morning. This is not anything unusual. If you read this blog with any regularity (no pun intended), you'll remember the "poo on the foot" incident from a couple of weeks ago. Oh, that's nothing compared to what my hubby walked in on yesterday.

His exact words - "I think I could go to work cleaning up crime scenes now." Apparently, Jake's runny poo had reached uncontrollable heights yesterday, leaving hubby to clean up the mess. I got a call from a frantic Chad telling me that Jake HAD to go to the vet because there was blood present in the stool. I'm sorry for being so graphic, but it's just because I'm drained. And I feel that you will be a better person if you go on this journey with me.

So off to the vet we go, me meeting Chad and poo dog after work. Of course it was a little bacterium called clostridium that was causing all the fuss. Some antibiotics and a pat from the vet later and we were presented with a bill that made me want to seriously cry. $164. Yup, not even kidding. For about an hour at the vet. I know, I know, we made the decision to bring a dog into our homes. I get it. But ever since these blessed creatures arrived it has been ONE THING AFTER ANOTHER. Thankfully, they are pretty dang cute, and that makes up for it. A little.