Look at this sweet face:
(And don't ask me what the story is with the green eyes. It happens even with the red-eye reduction on or off, which is ironic.)
He doesn't look sick, does he? No. He looks a healthy puppy. Granted, he looks bald for a silky terrier; they usually look like this:
Yeah, like we're going to maintain that coat. I barely brush my own hair.
He and I bonded pretty closely while Gary was out of town, especially since he refused to go for walks and held his water waiting for four days for Gary to get back. He's taken to pinning me down while lying across my breasts or belly (whichever is larger at that moment) and staring at Gary to ensure he doesn't leave.
That was the arrangement when our dog-human hybrid pack was all snuggled in bed, listening to Gary tell a story his Mom had told him today. It was about Arhan-fay and the assumptions his fiancee is making about family life. It was particularly tragic since it had been through the Sandy Exaggeration Lens, then through the Wilma Poetic Justice Lens, then through the Gary Comic Relief lens (in short, the fiance is acting like Sandy did twenty years ago). Gary gesticulated at the ceiling. Mac and I listened patiently. Mac listened patiently while until at one point he could take no more and vomited in Gary's face.
Mac doesn't vomit like we vomit. It might have something to do with the Silky Terrier Hair, I guess he knows no sister Silky will be there to hold back his hair. but he takes great pains that the puke doesn't land on his paws or face. As he barfs, he does this full-body shudder that strafes the vomit over a wide area.
And, it is sudden! There's no horking or burping beforehand. He's just sitting there calmly on your chest, looks up, ARRRURRPPP, vomit convulsion! licks his lips, then settles back down while everyone else screams and clears the bed. And, in this case, gets the camera.