Anchor Struck

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.”