The puppy came home from the vet that Friday (over two weeks ago now, sorry! My neighbor left for Winter Break and took my pirated wireless with him, the bastard!), accompanied by a battery of medications of the squirt-down-the-throat and hide-in-the-food variety. The animal hospital's "Buddy Fund" to help me pay his bills. He was quite a favorite there, with the receptionists taking turns holding him on their laps during lunch and the entire office staff turning out to say goodbye. I told them I was trying to choose between the names "Possum" (because that's what he first resembled) and "Linus." The latter won unanimously.
Here is a picture of him a few days after coming home:
Linus has a crate (borrowed from a classmate), a puppy bed, his own Nylabone (thanks, Mom and Dad!), and a little blue sweater to keep him warm until his hair grows back. He also has his own Wilson (thanks to honorary aunt Beth), which he cuddles with when it's warm from the microwave and tries to "kill" when it has cooled. Thanks to friends, family, and the amazing staff at Ard-Vista Animal Hospital, this puppy's salvation has been a real team effort.
For about the first week, I possessed delusions of dog ownership. He was so cute and helpless and astonishingly well-behaved for a puppy. I even cried on the phone with the vet when discussing how to start finding a home for him.
Fortunately for me, he peed on the floor. A lot.
It turned out that the potty-every-fifteen-minutes thing was due to yet another infection, requiring yet another antibiotic. But while that was curable, it also delivered the "Hello! You are a starving, overworked grad student!" wake-up call that was necessary under the circumstances. Lucky for me, or I would have been in real danger.
Such is the Power of the Puppy, you see.