Woody has once again injured his back and is spending the evening whining softly at a high pitch, his spine arched uncomfortably as he steps gingerly around the apartment. Our hearts go out to him, but we can't get him to the vet for some chiropractic care until midmorning tomorrow. It's going to be a long night. . .
In the meantime, on the vet's recommendation Pete has given him some buffered aspirin and we'll be applying cold packs periodically.
It's sad to see Woody acting his age. He seems to think he's two years old, even though he's well into his 11th year.