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Bobby came down with a bout of food poisoning last week because whenever we off-leash him to do his business, that silly boy would sneak off to the neighbour's house to eat whatever scraps of food being left out for the strays. No matter how much I scream or whack him, he'll still do it, given the chance.

Dumb dog.

I wouldn't care so much if he did not suffer any ill effects from his disgusting snacking habits, but he DID and we had to make two trips to the vet which cost me RM72 for shots, antibiotics and appetite stimulants because Bobby's throat was infected and swollen and he couldn't eat. 

If RM72 could cure him on the spot, that money would have been well-spent but nooooooooo... I had to deal with his appetite loss and everyday brought forth the horrible game of Let's Guess What His Royal Highness Would Eat. 

He wouldn't eat his raw meat.

He wouldn't eat his kibble. Even kibble soaked in liver soup.

He wouldn't eat bread.

He wouldn't eat yogurt wtf. I tell you, all the yogurt in my fridge is for the dogs. Don't anybody touch them yo.

The only thing he would eat is thoroughly cooked chicken liver and raw eggs. 

It was like living with a ultra-finicky lapdog (Iwene, now I know how you fking feel!). Throughout the ordeal, Brandy became the official food disposal unit, often finishing Bobby's food after her own. And I know Bobby's food poisoning didn't come from consuming raw meat because Brandy was fine and dandy all along. 

Anywayyyyyyyy Bobby is okay now. Brandy is... fatter now. And I'm poorer now. Boohoo.