From Queen Elizabeth to Bozo the Clown.
Good news all around. It took a biopsy and several dermatopathologists, but Wilbur's skin diagnosis finally came in. We were worried that it would be Pemphigus Vulgaris (vulgar indeed!), a horrible autoimmune disease that attacks the muco-cutaneous junctions (like his butthole and his pecker), but turns out it is a rare bacterial infection that happens in shepherds (and their unique variations). So instead of a lifetime of chemotherapy and stressful frequent visits to the doctor (you should hear this drama queen scream), it will be 60 days of heavy antibiotics and baths.
The antibiotics aren't so bad. He thinks he's getting cream cheese every morning because he deserves it.
And my sister in law sent us this groovy soft e-collar. It's not a fortress, he can shake it off if he really wants to. But mostly he just puts up with not being able to lick "down there." Maybe because he knows he is stylin' in his camo gear. And he can eat, drink, and sleep more comfortably.
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