As soon as we got home from my father-in-law's, R turned pale and urped over Bear's coat, tossing up several times afterwards. She spent the rest of the night drinking Gatorade, keeping down a few tablespoons of applesauce and being petted like the princess she is. She went off to sleep after a (gulp) suppository of Gravol and some Kids Tylenol, and seemed cheery when she woke up.
We were a little concerned, because there's a flu-like thing going around, but she ate and drank like a champ this morning. She even managed to con my FIL out of some (contraband) candy he keeps in his pocket at lunch.
Which is why I was surprised to hear B shout for me a little later.
'She's got the diarrhea! She's in a mess! Oh, God...it's all up her back!'
I zoomed upstairs, where B was
(My husband, the ham. Sometimes I just call him Pork Butt.)
Right. I grabbed up the nonplussed R, swept her into the bathroom, carefully peeled her shirt over her head, yanked down her pants, and stopped. I took a peek.
'B, she doesn't have diarrhea. There's no poop in there.'
B took a look. 'But it was all up her back! It's all over her shirt....'
I grabbed Rosey's t-shirt and inspected. Sure enough, there was a dark patch above her waistband. A dark patch....with small bright-blue bits imbedded in. What the hell?
I looked up at B.