Oh, this is just awful.

Poor Wendell is in so much pain that he can neither sit or lie down comfortably. So since he came home yesterday morning he has basically been frozen in one position -- on all fours, tail tucked between his legs, shivering and panting, either under a table, in a corner, or behind the toilet tank. He's had a little water and licked some chicken broth off of my fingers but has rejected all of his favorite treats, including peanut butter and a hot-dog chunk. And every once in a while he'll start to doze off and his hindquarters will begin to sink toward the floor and he'll almost make it into a sit and then give this horrible squeal of pain and get back on all fours.

Last night, in addition to the shake/pant/squeal combination, his incision started bleeding, which occasioned frantic calls to his vets, and, eventually, a new kind of antibiotic (liquid, with a dropper, so we could slide it into the corner of his mouth). Needless to say, nobody here got much sleep last night.

This morning, we went back to the vet, who examined him closely.

"The wound looks okay," he said. And Wendell's not running a fever, which means no peritonitis -- the big fear when you've got a bite to the abdomen. His take? "Well, your dog seems to be the kind of dog who feels things very acutely."

In other words, Wendell is a big drama queen. Tell me something I don't already know.

We got another shot of painkiller in the hope that it will give the little guy some relief, and limped back home. I would post a picture, but it's just too sad. The wound looks horrible. Plus, Wendell had to have his side shaved, and the tragic thing is, not only is his fur black-and-white spotted, but his skin is, too. And I know he thinks that that's his secret and he'd prefer not to share it with the whole Web-surfing world.

Meanwhile, still no word on the owner of the dog who did this, and I'm trying to figure out how to proceed. Adam and I put signs around the neighborhood, figuring that the guy has to live around here and somebody probably knows him, but so far nothing. So do I contact the local newspapers/TV stations on the grounds that Wendell is sort of a celebrity dog (his picture graces the back cover of GOOD IN BED), and cast the net wider?


Anyhow, on a non-Wendell note, Lucy's now taking this homeopathic remedy for gas called gripe water, which is made with herbs like dillweed and caraway. As a result, my daughter seems a little more comfortable. And she smells like an Everything bagel.