I'm sorry to report that Otto partook in his first revenge poop.

He seems to be getting used to hanging out in his crate. I mean, I trick him in there with treats and then shut the door behind him, but he's stopped whining so pathetically. This time we decided to just skip the crate and close the living room door, and he dropped two loads for us to discover later. Bad dog. When Aaron found it, he was the picture of guilt, standing by the poop with his ears back, staring up sadly. He also knows that when I bring out the can of Woolite that he's been very bad.

Oh well. Dogs and poop seem to go hand in hand. I won't even go into what I had to deal with after the salad incident.

Today we're going to the vet. He's got a lump in his back that's a little scary, so fortunately I was able to get an appointment for this afternoon. Poor little guy. He makes me feel equal and alternate amounts of pure love, irritation and concern.