My dog ate my prozac.

So T took the dog to the park today with his brother. Apparently our dog got into a fight with his brother's girlfriend's cat. Fine. That's to be expected. They had a nice day out anyway, running around the woods and exploring creeks. I stayed home and got to eat a leisurely late breakfast at the diner and get some work done on my memo. When they came home, E looked utterly exhausted. He conked out on the floor, and we left to go grocery shopping. Came home. Ate dinner. Played a few rounds of Boggle. I came back to the bedroom/my office to "get back to work" and noticed some little blue pills laying all over the bed. Now, I was up all night writing in pain from horrible cramps that wouldn't subside for four hours. But those pills were NOT the ones I was popping from 6 am to 10 am. No, they were my brand new 10 mgs, fresh from the school psych services, in powdery dust on the bed. (Okay, only one of them was busted, but still.) So apparently my dog is depressed. He is laying cozily on his bed right now, no doubt dreaming all happy thoughts. And I am wondering how to explain to my new scrip-writer that I am out of pills a few days early.