Pancreatitis. I was waiting at the door of the vet's office when it opened Monday morning.  They infused him, injected him and ran a zillion tests to make sure nothing else was the matter.

They wanted to hook him up to an IV, and keep him overnight, but it was getting ready to rain, and he goes ballistic when it rains.  It scares him so much he shakes all over and pants continually, until it stops raining.  He's not afraid of lightening or thunder, just rain.

And they would have stuck him in a crate overnight and left him there--so I said no.  He would have been terrified.  So I brought him home and he is doing fine. He's not up to par.  I am supposed to take him back in the morning.

$410.00.  I should have been a vet.

I am writing this on Monday night to post on Tuesday.  I'm beat.  Squig kept me up most of the night last night.  So I am going to go to bed soon.  We are in a high-tornado warning, but I think I'll just wait on a siren and go across the street to the neighbor's cellar if need be.

I thank God my dog is better.  I'm glad there was something the vet could do to make him feel better.  I was really worried.

I was afraid they were going to have to treat me because I was so worried.

When I am stressed, I eat.

I bet I gained five pounds.  I'll pull a Scarlett O'Hara and think about that tomorrow.  I usually lose weight just thinking--because the wheels in my brain turn over and over and burn fat really fast.  (It's Tuesday morning, I'm posting this.  Took Squig back to the vet this morning.  All is well.)