The Bailey Chair Is Here!

And Mr. Darcy HATES it! No we are not talking about lower case hate, but full on upper case HATE. Of course, it probably doesn’t help that his unhinged owner (yes, that would be me) was screaming at him, “Knock it off you stupid dog! I’m trying to keep you alive!”.

An optimistic, glass half full person would say that he’s smiling in the photo above. He’s not. He’s panting, and plotting his next escape attempt. I have to go do this all over again in about half an hour. Pray for me.

The Diagnosis

Hi, my name is Mr. Darcy. And I must now endure the indignity of a high chair.

Mr. Darcy has a megaesophagus. Basically, the muscle doesn’t work properly anymore and food sits there instead of heading on down to his stomach. I am now in the process of trying to find him a Bailey chair. Yes, I know many of you will find this ridiculous. But it is evidently, the best way to ensure proper digestion and therefore avoid death by bacterial pneumonia.

Dear God, it’s me Nichole (not Margaret). If you are in the mood to listen to my sarcastic whining today, I would like to say this: I am supposed to feed a BABY in a high chair. Not a DOG.

PS Thanks God, for putting up with me. I know I’m a pain in your see through ass. 😉