Bastard Namesake

Just about anyone who knows Fred knows M.J. You know how people who refer to Marcie, as So and So's dog? Well, people around here know Fred as M.J.'s keeper.


Today Fred noticed that M.J. was flinching when anyone raised a hand to give the big lug a pat. Weird.
Later in the morning, M.J. vomited. Gross, but dogishly normal.
Around three o'clock, he couldn't regulate his balance, or even hold a steady gaze.
Max Junior, Bu Bu, Boo Boo, Baby Boy Dog, Kid-o are some of many names for this critter. He's a very good boy.
The vet did blood work and said that his organs are healthy and functioning and no toxic substances can be detected. Vitals are all good. His red blood cell count is low. Bleeding.
His disoriented stumble and fall attempts at walking, and his flinching reaction to stimuli in the area around his head makes the vet think the problem is neurological.  But there was no MRI or further investigative testing done today. Fred's wallet just can't. As he sobbed.
Why is your brain bleeding, boy dog?

Life Rule #42: Don't fuck with a guy's dog.
Fred is an extremely independent. Friendly, sociable- just independent. This dog has been Fred's angel for six years and that peanut butter shaded wuppy has mushed into every crack and corner of their life together.
Sometimes there is only time.

No sleep for this red house. Fred is going through emotional surges dependent upon M.J.'s condition.
Talk about considering the moment.