Just a quick post today to
humiliate show you some pictures of Bodie looking mighty forlorn in his cone, post-neutering.
His first cone was quaint and Easter bonnet-esque, but Stretch Armstrong here was able to still get at his stitches.
He was upgraded to a second, bigger cone (of which I didn’t get a picture). It proved more challenging but ultimately Bodie found a way around it, using the tip of the new cone to rub his stitches.
It was time for a larger cone. The grandaddy cone. The size venti.
DUN DUN DUN.
It’s basically a satellite dish. Bodie kept inadvertently flipping over his water bowl and getting plugged up in door frames, not to mention scaring the living daylights out of Kiva. The cone reached so low to the ground that he’d skim off the top layer of snow in the backyard as he trotted, funneling it inward onto his snout. The poor pooch couldn’t even chew a bone without it slipping down his cone-slide.
Saddest of all, he just wanted some love from his human companions. After all, he’s only 9 months old. What a scary and confusing time for a pup. Bodie likes to get right up in your face, stare at you, and nuzzle your neck, something the cone was preventing…
…until we realized we’d just go inside the cone with our little Bodie until he felt better.
When the cone finally came off about a week later, I had never seen Bodie so gleeful, sprinting laps in the backyard and tackling Kiva.
P.S. Bodie’s ordeal reminded me of my favorite “Far Side” comic of all time.