Okay, now that the Precious has decided he will try foods other than processed pasta dishes, he has diarrhea now. It’s mild, but it’s decidedly offensive. Being a dog owner, I’m used to talking about poo. Ever since Sampson, we got into this habit of what we called the morning poo report. And having Princess Juno and her delicate stomach made us get into graphic detail that would make most sensible people ill. Now we having the morning poo report with the Precious.
He likes chickpea and vegetable curry. At least he did for the first few times he had it. He’s done with it now. Then I tried pasta with organic tomato sauce with pureed veggies, then turkey with mashed potatoes and veggies. Luckily, he does not an immediate reaction, but he does seems to wake up at 4am with a stench that could knock down a rhino. And of course, there’s the organic homo milk I’ve been giving him lately. Then hubby decided on the weekend to put cereal in his bedtime bottle. So it’s not surprise he’s crapping more than he used to. I googled all the possibilities, but we’re going to the doctor today anyway for the dreaded shots, so I’ll talk about it with her. He doesn’t seem to be bothered by it at all – well, beside turning into an Olympic wrestler when I try to change his diaper. A very loud, screaming Olympic wrestler. I’ve tried a firm tone when he does this, a hand over his torso with a stern rebuke, mocking him, self deprecating humour, delightful toys or objects to hold (usually when he holds something he calms down) but I suppose he just doesn’t care to be interrupted from his machinations to be changed. Even when he smells like a barnyard.
Okay, I hear his siren call – pray for me.