Monty Needs to Learn How to Get Attention Without Pretending He's Dying

Oh, the joys of pet ownership...let me tell you. I'm running on little sleep at the moment and Monty is to blame. Earlier this evening, my favorite greyhound came stumbling down the stairs like a drunken soldier...all wobbly on his skinny little greyhound legs...drooling like someone turned on a faucet, and looking at me with eyes as black as an alien...totally dialated so you couldn't even see the whites. Katharine was out with the car (which is unusual in itself), so Monty and I were left to call Emergency Vet. Since Monty can't use the phone and he was all messed up anyway...I made the call. "He's probably going to throw up," said the man on the emergency vet line. "You might want to bring him outside." Out the door we go and sure enough...he was right. Monty continues to wobble. No color in his eyes. "Keep an eye on him," says the vet. "If he falls...don't get too close. He may snap at you." Great. As if watching him suffer wasn't enough.

Long story short. Katharine came home and Monty went to Emergency Vet at 11pm. If he wanted to go for a ride, all he had to do was ask. When we got to the vet...this was Monty.

Does that look sick to you? Here he is again...all back to normal...wants to go home...making me look like an ASS. Why do we have animals anyway?

Oh...and in case you haven't had enough Monty for one day...here he is in his pajamas that Katharine insists that he loves.

It's a wonder he hasn't bit us yet.