hey, the lamp’s running away
Even though Slinkee’s second surgery has fared much better than her first, Jude and I chose
to play it safe and get a plastic cone to keep her from licking her stitches. A softer version
made of fabric is now available, but it looked flimsy and easy for the smarter-than-average
dog to figure out.
A woman at the pet store where we bought it told Jude that her dog hated his cone so much
that he used it to flip water and rocks at her.
Slinkee hates hers as well. I’ve never seen her more pissed off at us. If she could speak, she
would refuse to talk to us. I’m certain that I’m using this photo without her permission.
She hasn’t learned the flipping water trick yet, possibly because the cone won’t fit in her
bowl. She does, though, ram us in the back of the legs with it. This has gone on long after
a reasonable period of adjustment.
But we’re almost done. Jude took out some of the stitches last night. We’ll get through
it as a family, even with her bruised pride and our bruised calves. Until then I have a
daily reminder of a scene from The Simpsons when the family dog walked past Grampa
Simpson while it was wearing a cone.
“Hey,” he called out to no one in particular, “the lamp’s running away.”
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Anchor Struck 
One of my cats had to wear a cone for about a month. He was really angry about it, too!
Hey, Beanie. How did you keep it on? Our cat Ollie kept slipping out of his, no matter how tight it was.
the cone of shame.. maybe if you showed her ‘up’ she would not feel so bad… and get her one of those special collars so she could talk..
We couldn’t afford the special talking collar because we got the deluxe cone. Jude says it will help me in my declining years. I don’t think I would’ve wanted to hear what Slinkee had to say anyway. She looked pissed off every time we put it on her. All the stitches are out now. We’re going to use it tonight for the last time. Thank you for suggesting it. You were right.