Finally, thank heavens, Riley is feeling his own little self. No longer is he asking to be taken outside to evacuate his bowels, poor little tyke. And we have all enjoyed badly-needed uninterrupted sleep. Where until two nights ago we had four nights of experiencing him struggling out of the blankets to stand appealingly in his silent way to alert us that his body had signalled another diarrhetic paroxysm, that no longer occurs. And just as well, since no more than an hour-and-a-half or two hours would elapse between each such event.

Through it all, he was stoic and uncomplaining. He's such a good little fellow. We felt so badly for him. We felt badly for ourselves as well, sleep-deprived and concerned over him. He began rejecting the rice-and-beef formula that had worked so well in the past. Quite unlike himself, since he is a little dog who will eat almost anything. He had been picking the beef out of the rice, and discarding the rice. Over which had been sprinkled the minuscule crystals of the probiotic supplement meant to restore his bacterial gut flora.

So, given that reaction, where restorative efforts were being foiled, we felt we had little option but to proceed to more effective methodology, which could only be supplied through a veterinarian's inspection, advice and prescription. And that prescription was an anti-inflammatory to be given orally in tablet form: metronidazole. Thank heavens it has worked so expeditiously.

Although he had been able to drink a little chicken soup, he hadn't wanted food offerings dissimilar to what he is accustomed to. And so this morning, all symptoms back in the normal range, he ate his normal diet of Encana lamb and Okanogan apple. Not much was proffered, but it seems all he needs at the present time.

He's as alert and responsive as he usually is, and given to his senior years' long naps. Today we plan an outdoor excursion for him, something he's been physically restrained from experiencing, in our estimation, for almost a week.