Poochie's being a good little helper monkey today.
And when I say helping, I mean not crapping all over the floor.
Poochie is a bit of a neurotic little mutt. I had to take him to the vet last week because he suffers from such severe separation anxiety and because I'm 3 inches from suffering a nervous breakdown from coming home to a poopy peepy kitchen every day. The vet put him on Prozac.
So far, no progress... but I suppose like people Prozac, it will take several weeks for it to kick in. As angry as the mess and the barking and whining makes me, I feel so bad for this little guy. I know what is like to be in a panic. I know how it feels to be scared. I really hope this works because he is such a pea when he's not destroying things.
I'll leave you with a picture of my dinner from 12:45 am.
Grilled-to-tha-mutha-lovin-Cheese, son. It's been way too long.