D.O.P.-T.

This morning - just like Thursday, when he turned out to have shat copiously in the dining room - Bear didn't come to vie with the housemate's dog to greet me at the door, but hung back in my room. He had been snuffling and sneezing last night - I was pretty sure he'd sniffed up a foxtail grass seed when barking at the neighbor's dogs through the fence - and he was snuffling again this morning. I fed them both, let the housemate's dog out to pee, got him back in and shut out of the kitchen, and turned to see how Bear was getting on with his breakfast - to find his nose covered in blood and great gouts of it in his dish with the food and on the rim and splashed onto the carpet. I ran and yelled to the poor housemate in her bed that Bear had a nosebleed. Just as she came in, tugging on her jeans, he gave a great sneeze and splattered gore all over the wall. Much drama ensued, including two bloody Bear sneezes on my bedspread, a thrilling car ride with Bear very excited and the housemate blearily trying to avoid the Sunnyvale Food and Wine Festival and hold her broken sunglass frames together, and several more Bear sneezes scattering drops all over the vet's waiting room floor. But he's now back home after being anesthetised and scoped and had apparently managed to sneeze the thing out. He has antihistamine pills in case it was not a grass seed but hay fever. And we are both going to sleep now.