Last night I consumed a lot of wine and ranted and cried to Cousin C and to my son, and had a good ol' pity party about everything - the endless list of "house" work to be done before I can sell this place, the shitty, shitty job, the lack of a clue about my future, and of course, looming over all, Murphy's illness. And my son talked me down from the ledge, as he always does. And I woke up feeling less than 100% myself (no wine for me for a while, ugh) but able to deal with it.
Murphy seems like his normal self - he is miffed because he wasn't allowed to eat breakfast. We walked to the lake and back this morning, and I looked at this little dog trotting along beside me, and he looks perfectly fine. He's acting like himself. And irony of ironies, the tummy trouble and runny poop that brought us to the vet in the first place appears to have resolved itself. So, we will take a look at whatever's going on inside him and deal with it.
Thanks again to all of you for the support - it really does mean so much!