Riley in the evening

He's about the same.

At first I was thinking that maybe Boscoe had him intimidated. When I came home from work, Boscoe got all happy and went into the play bow, and Riley -- who normally would huff back and race around -- just kind of backed away, wild-eyed.

And later in the evening we were all out in the back yard, and Boscoe tried again, but Riley squished himself closer to Doug. Boscoe was not to be dissuaded and got pretty aggressive; he rushed at Riley and even playfully bit his throat (not really biting, you know, just playing) and Riley cringed and cowered.

So we wondered if Boscoe suddenly has Riley completely intimidated?

But then later we were back to thinking that Riley is in some mysterious pain. After dinner, he went halfway up the stairs and lay on the landing -- he's been kind of removing himself from the family lately -- and I went over to pet him. When I touched his head, he squeaked and whimpered.

And later when Doug went over to pet him, Riley growled a tiny, quiet, little growl that clearly said, "Not now."

So now I'm back to thinking that we should give him that pain medication for a few days and see if anything improves.

UPDATE, 3 a.m.: And now it is 3 a.m., and as if Riley weren't already having a bad time of it, we now have thunderstorms rolling through. He squeaked in pain when he leaped off the bed to go hide in the bathroom. So there is clearly pain in that boy somewhere, though none of us can figure out where. I have given him two Benadryl and hopefully he'll conk out and sleep through the storm.

Wednesday morning: When I tried to administer the Metacam (which squirts into his mouth from a syringe) he shrieked in pain when I touched his mouth. So I squirted the Metacam onto a saucer and he licked it up. WT had suggested that maybe Riley has a toothache. Maybe...? He has never liked us touching his mouth (we cannot brush his teeth; he runs at the sight of a toothbrush) but this screaming is something new.

Of course, he also screamed when he jumped off the bed, and, later, when he was just standing in the living room. So damned if I know.

Dogs=trouble

Here I was all set to tell you a happy post about Boscoe, and now Riley is sick.

Late last week, Boscoe and I were bedded down in our little love nest in the front hallway, when a fly buzzed past. That was it for Boscoe; he humped his clumsy way up the stairs, leaving me alone on the futon.

He'd done this once before, as you recall, when frightened by a particularly loud thunderclap, but had been unable to get back down the stairs. But this time he came back down on his own. Ha! Busted! I said. I'm sleeping upstairs again. And I have been. And so has he, no problem. (Well, some problem, but not bad.)

So that was happy news. But last night, in the middle of the night, something went terribly wrong with Riley. As I write this--at 6:30 a.m.--we still have no idea what it is. I can't tell if he's poisoned, or bitten, or pulled a muscle, or has the flu. I have absolutely no context, no clue as to what he is suffering from.

It started in the middle of the night, when for some reason we were all awake and Boscoe decided he wanted to eat whatever was in the bathroom wastebasket. That got all of us up and one thing led to another and Boscoe decided he needed to go outside. (Those of you who have dogs are nodding at this point; the rest of you are confused.)

Riley let out two loud squeaks when he tried to move. But then he jumped off the bed effortlessly and went downstairs with no trouble. (But he didn't race, as he usually does.)

This morning, same thing: a loud squeak--maybe from pain, maybe from fright, who knows? He did come downstairs, but now he is curled up on the back porch right outside the door. (See photo above.) He has not yet gone out into the yard. He has made it as far as the top step of the porch, where he sat for a long time, listless, head down, not moving. He put his front paws on the first step, then changed his mind and went and lay down.

He is listless. He is not moving. He looks at us dully. Other than the squeaks, he does not seem to be in pain, though when he moves he does so slowly instead of at Top Speed, which is Normal Speed for Riley. When I touch his chest, I can feel that he is trembling. The lowered head, the tucked tail, the trembles--it's almost as though he is terrified of something.

Should I leave him alone and go to work? Should I take the morning off and bring him in? It is so extremely rare for Riley to be sick I am at wit's end.

Now I must feed Boscoe (insulin schedule and all, you know) but I think I will not feed Riley. Worse, I am thinking that Riley will not want to be fed. And that's a terrible feeling. It's a bad, odd day when Boscoe looks like the robust one of the two.

UPDATE: He didn't seem to want breakfast, but he did want to go on a walk. He walked fine, though slow for Riley. (Normal speed for any other dog.) He paid attention to the squirrels. He was curious. His poop was normal. But now he is in the back yard hiding under a bush.

SECOND UPDATE: I gave him a tramadol, which he ate. He came out from under the bush and went willingly in the house but lay down on the rug and looks no better. So I made a vet appt for 11:20 a.m. How in the world will they be able to tell what's wrong with him? He can't talk.

THIRD UPDATE: Well, we stumped the vet. He and his assistant both agreed that Riley seems entirely unlike himself. But he could find no sign of pain, or swelling, or injury. His internal organs sounded good. His head and neck seem stiff but not really painful, and they have complete range of motion. And the stiffness, he said could be from tension. He said, "This is one stressed-out dog." Yeah. Riley. So they're running some blood work, and if that doesn't show anything then we'll probably treat him for pain for a week or so and see if he improves.

Goddamn dog.

FOURTH UPDATE: (And I had to switch to blue ink because this was starting to look entirely too Christmassy.) The vet just called. All of Riley's blood work came back normal. No sign of infection, anemia, heartwork, Lyme disease. Numbers are good. So he wants me to put him on pain medication for five days to see if that takes care of the problem. It's a stab in the dark. I said I would, but ... why do I think that when I get home tonight Riley will be just fine? I'll let you know.