I took Bruno to the dog park to chase ball, the sun was shining and you have to leave house sometime when you are sick, it is just good for you. (As much as leaving the house and mixing with the stupid people is ever good for you)
I toss the ball across the park as soon as we get there, and Bruno is right on it, of he hares across the green grass. Just a little bull obsessed is my little guy. (No so little any more)
I throw the ball as soon as Bruno drops it, and he is off again, charging across the green,
Third throw, same story.
Forth throw, as fast as his short red legs would carry him.
Then there was a look, after he dropped the ball. Then another look.
“Er!”
“What’s up little guy?”
“Er!”
“You okay?”
Bruno vomited up his breakfast after that. There was his soften chow laid out in a phlegm mouse. He looked up at me, sad face. But, not to worry, Coco rushed in and ate his sick right up again, so don't worry, num, num, num.
Oh, I'm guessing it was too soon after breakfast for him, actually, but I'll take it as a simpatico move. You unwell, I’m unwell. I’m sick just at the thought of you being sick.
Paw-5.
Now, if I could just stop dry coughing.
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