Thursday, December 11, 2003


Amy finally broached the subject with the doctor. It was such a delicate matter.

She said she thought he really needs help. He seems confused. He has a hard time getting off a chair if he has go left instead of right. He howls for no reason. He barks when it's dark.

Mercifully, for a change she wasn't talking about me. She was talking about Winston, our special needs dog. Since the dogs were in for their vaccinations anyway, Amy decided to discuss their mental health with the Veterinarian.. The Doc concurred with her diagnosis.

Winston is quite likely one enchilada short of a Mexican plate.

So we're putting him on drugs. Yes, our dog is on antidepressants.

I went to Walgreens yesterday to pick up a prescription of an Elavil generic for "Winston Main". The Pharmacist didn't even blink when she said, "Oh, he's a dog."

I know I heard a small gasp emanating from the woman behind me in line though.

Welcome to the new millennium.

I gave Winston the first pill last night.

I came home from work today to find him frolicking in the destructive aftermath of what was once a red plush football toy.

This is your dog.

This is your dog on drugs.

Oh yeah, so far this is working great.