My brother Dave has had the Whooping Cough for a week. We thought it was his yearly bronchitis because it is the same high-pitched keening hideous cough. (People have accused him of augmenting his cough for pity, that's how dreadful it is.) But no bronchitis: whooping cough. In addition to the cough, he has blood on the toilet paper. We suspect he blew out a hemorrhoid during a coughing spell.
Gary is going in for his colonoscopy Tuesday, in part because he too had a visit from the Melena Fairy. (There are only so many ways I can avoid the word "stool.") (Also, don't name your children Melena.)
So, this morning I was in the basement with Mac the Dog, and I don't know why new rooms inspire dogs to poop, but they do. (I can think of three times dogs have gone into newly-built rooms of brand new homes and have been moved to defecate.) Anyway, I scooped it up with a paper towel and yes, there was a decided red tinge to it.
And, yes, they have all been a little cranky.