Miles is currently taking 12 pills a day. It was 13 but he finished off one, to which I say hurrah because he is a difficult patient. He's like an unhappy psychiatric patient... He'll hide his pill in his mouth until you turn around and then spit it out. Or he'll halfway swallow it and then spit it up in a pile of mucus... I bought these lovely pill pockets which worked the first day, haha.
He can smell the pain and amoxicillan pills in the pill pockets and refuses to take them. He won't take them covered in cheese or peanut butter or banana (his favourite) so I have to force him to take them and then bribe his happiness with treats after each pill.
The aftermath, part A.
The aftermath, part B. And Miles with a waggily tail.
Mary, looking entirely bored with the whole thing even though she got treats too.
Night 2 of our campout. And Miles has a new stuff friend! The sheep behind him was acquired at Target today for $2.50! It came from the Easter sale section so it doesn't squeak but it was a steal and I can always sew an older squeaker in later.
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