For the Boy

I may feel better, and even Jonah has managed to hold down his food, but Duncan has been bitten by the bug. I came home to find him under the bed rather than dancing and chirping at the door, his usual routine. His refusal to come out was alarming, even with the promise of treats and a walk. At first I thought he was feeling guilty, perhaps there'd been an accident, but after inspecting the apartment and finding nothing I crawled halfway under the bed, held his paw and talked to him, coaxing him out slowly and gently. He wanted the walk but would not look at anything but me the entire time we were at the park. He pooped twice, the first was nice and solid and quite typical, but the second was not so lucky so we returned home where I gave him some rice and plain Yo-Curt, my homemade yogurt. He ate most of it and even drank some water but he's spent most of the night curled up in a very quiet ball at my feet. Right now he's under the desk, a place he knows he's not allowed, but I've let him stay because it's obvious he feels so bad. He looks a bit wilted, like a wet dog without the wet. I can't help but feel anxious about it because the last time I saw him this way was during The Great Yarn Crisis of 2006.

The rest of my night will be spent with him, cuddling and holding his paw. Think good, get-well thoughts for him, the same you all sent to me during last week's blahs. Duncan was there for me and now I'm going to be there for him.