Poor Murphy...

He's sure having a rough couple of weeks.

I came in last night and he didn't greet me at the door like he always does. I called him and he slowly ambled into the room, ears flat and tail tucked. Something was wrong.

I looked in the kitchen and his food from the morning meal was still in his bowl, untouched. He walked over to his dog bed by the patio window and lay down, then just stared at me. This isn't normal for him. Normal for him is jumping around, throwing his toys in the air, pouncing on things and trying to bait me into chasing him around the house. And uneaten food? Never. Not this guy.

Opening the freezer, I got out one of the frozen beef marrow bones that he loves. I offered it to him but he wouldn't take it. I set it down next to him and he just ignored it. Something was definitely wrong.

His forehead felt warmer than normal and he sure was listless. I was worried. So back to the emergency vet we went, some 40 miles away. And all the way there, he just rode calmly instead of wigging out and demanding to have his window down like he normally does.

At the vet, they poked him and prodded him and drew blood. He had a fever, and the blood test indicated Lyme Disease.

I've had him on Frontline flea and tick preventative since I've had him, but that's not always 100% effective, especially around here where deer ticks are everywhere. And for all we know, he may have come to me with it as it could be dormant for a long time. But the vet thinks that he's having a flare-up now, so he's getting even more new medicine and bed rest for a few days. I got him to eat some McDonalds last night, and today he nibbled his food when I added chicken broth to it. Now he's back to sleep, and I'm going to stay home with him for the rest of the week.

Poor dog. Poor sad dog.

It's ok, pal. I've got ya.