We have barf.
Bear barf.
Apologies if you've just become a follower and are now thinking "What the noodles...?! Lady, I did not sign up for puke updates".
My bear is not a barfer; even when he was tiny he wasn't ever even a spit-uppy baby. In fact, in his whole 22 months of being a person he has thrown up maybe 10 times. 6 of those were yesterday. Once was today. The tele-nurse folks (and my ma) patiently sat through my hypochondriacal hyperventilating and kindly instructed me to get a grip. That it's not actually PARVO, because you guys, apparently that's a DOG disease.
So, fluids, rest. He's actually a lot better now, and it looks like the barfing today was down to some genius (me) giving him wholewheat toast with butter instead of white toast with nutthin.
GAH.
T-Bone is having yet another spa treatment. I've been "indulging" in a little laundry room Wu Wei and I think it has has given me what might be an idea.
I'll let you know, when there's less barf.
Until then, a gratuitous bear shot:
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