All of Dutch's blood came back ok, the vet said he's just old. And fat. And maybe a little arthritic? Whatever that means. He has to take some pills for a week to see if they help him feel young and skinny like me.
Ok, so maybe the vet didn't say the part about Dutch being old and fat. But when you're me and you're starving to death and it's your fat spotted brother's turn to pick the food and he decides creme brûlée would be "the best possible human eatable, ever" you speak the truth. Even if it's kinda mean.
If you've never met a creme brûlée, it looks like this:
And sounds like this:
Cramit brahooley? It even sounds nasty. Not that I'd know. Our cramit brahooley is still in the fridge because on the walk home from the brulee cart, Dutch's princess belly decided it wasn't happy about the new drugs and my human says you shouldn't eat dessert if your poop is like soup.
ME: what kind of stupid rule is that?!?
ME: but my poop is fine!
ME: me and my poop are STARVING!! Give us some freaking brahooley!
No go. The cramit brahooley is still in the fridge. Dutch is still fat and I'm still starving. Sigh. Sigh. Sigh.