Something's not quite right this evening.
I've been whining and restless, and huddling close to Dad.
Dad's not sure what the problem is. He's checked my coat, he's checked my paws. No thorns, burrs
or sore patches. He's checked my eyes and ears. My belly's not swollen or tender. He's even
checked my teeth. Everything seems normal.
But it's not.
Dad says he wishes I could speak English so I could tell him exactly what the problem is.
I wish Dad could speak Dog!

(dad: It's frustrating being a Poochdad sometimes, when something like this happens. It may be his
reflux problem again. But don't worry about Pooch, folks, we'll get to the bottom of the problem
as soon as the V*t's opens in the morning)