Crichton had some bloody, watery stool this morning, so we had to take him to the emergency vet. (Which is not cheap...) The poor guy has some intestinal problems, so he's now on two different medicines, both of which we are assured taste horrible. He takes them like a trooper though, true to his heroic namesake.
Of course, he already doesn't like the vet, since they had to insert three separate things up his bum. He was not pleased with that.
And to top it all off, mean mommy and daddy decided that he needed to start crate-training anyway, since we both have to go to work tomorrow. He's downstairs now, crying up a storm. He was fine for a while, but the cat decided to go downstairs and torture him. She got locked in the back room of the basement for her trouble.