So, after realizing that Oh God the Vet Tech Wasn't Kidding About the Diarrhea - which, bless his little heart, he deposited outside - it's infrequent but will put you off hot fudge sundaes for life - tonight he expressed a desire to sit on the couch with me. Okay, I am right there, watching him out of the corner of my eye - if he so much as twitches, I will be on him and not let him jump off the couch. He is not supposed to jump. Jumping is BAD! So I watched him - every twitch and I was on it, ready to grab him.
Yeah. He didn't twitch a hair before the move. He just stood up and jumped off in one smooth, swift spring, like a healthy young gazelle, and landed as lightly as a feather, and trotted off to get a drink of water while I performed CPR on myself. He's on his cushion now, sleeping like an angel, and all further requests to sit on the couch will be ignored by management. For the sake of management, because obviously the patient knows what he's capable of doing. He's great, but this is getting to me.
Carpeted areas of the house are blocked off, because though I would love to sleep on my own bed, I am not quite willing to rip out the carpet for the thrill. And boy, the runny poopies are impressive. His colon has to regroup, regrow its healthy balance (yes, he's on probiotics) and all that jazz, and in the meantime, no carpet. I'll be on the couch, playing nurse again tonight.