Enterprise arrives at Kreetassa hoping to replace a failing plasma injector. Archer's away mission to the easily offended pug-uglies fails as Porthos relieves himself upon one of their treasured trees. With poetic justice the pooch returns to Decon with a nasty life-threatening illness that Dr. Phlox cannot quickly cure. Armed with pillow and blanket, Archer camps in Sickbay for the evening and hilarity ensues.

With his floppy-eared companion safely "off-screen" in isolation, the Captain and Doctor can finally share a moment to explore some background. I liked the bat chase - the origami bait, Hoshi's easy capture, all that - but even in a nightmare can't imagine Kirk and McCoy similarly occupied. I also can't believe Archer would dare distract the doctor during brain surgery on his best friend - even if he did like T'Pol (and of course he didn't and still doesn't).

The subplot with the subcommander was excruciating, no fault to any characters for the material. From T'Pol's perspective she's come a long way comprehending Archer's bond. The "treadmill" scene in the Recreation Room (another spacious room in such a tiny ship!) was fun at least in the interaction between these two senior officers. However, these preview-teasing demographic dreams are simply not Trek. Such a shame that a warp-powered starship must spend any time at all in the gutter.

(A freshly speckled?) Phlox connected these pieces entertainingly, from his dream eulogy to more personal Denobulan hygiene such as toenail clipping and tongue cleaning. If he's so educated why can't the doctor easily understand his captain's affection for his bugle - um, beagle? Phlox's multiplicative family will no doubt feature in a future episode, whenever Starfleet offers a degree in speaking with a youngest son.

We learned where the plasma injectors rest in the engine room, and that Sickbay contains a box built to drown dogs (what is this usually used for?!). The science concerning a "genome sent ahead" just stunk, presuming such a sophisticated analysis possible on the part of the creepy Kreetassans. Superior plasma injectors aside, they remain an race unworthy of even Picard's breath - that silly chainsaw ceremony felt as hokey as the "Vox Sola" apologetic hooey.

Stories drift from fiction to fantasy when they start suturing cold lizard parts into a cuddly beagle's head. Series can drift from serious to superficial when they start stitching juvenile preoccupation into an otherwise enjoyable program. Hoping for a run of four good episodes in a row, we are forced to settle for three-and-a-half. Oh well, it's still only the second season.