Parker and I just got back from the vet, where we picked up a six-pack of prescription dog food and another vial of dog-odium. The dog-walker's note says it all: "No treat today. Parker had real bad butt today."
I give credit to Parker for his housekeeping, despite it all. He kept almost all of it inside his crate, and then carefully placed his blanket over it. But he still appeared to feel really, really guilty when I got home, so after carrying him outside, I gave him a good bit of praise. (This time I remembered to change my own clothes before picking him up.) And then he got a good, refreshing walk—to the vet.