The Elizabethan collar is a device created by the same guy who invented underwire bras and corsets. The cone shape collar is perfect for picking up signals from outer space. Comfort is not part of the deal.
Do you remember Biff the dog singing the na na na thing to his friend because he gets to go for a ride in the car to get tutored. Little did he know dad said, ‘Lets’s go for a ride in the car, we’ll stop at the vet and get neutered. Biff wouldn’t have been so excited if he knew what was coming next.
Miss Daisy felt the same way. She happily jumped into the car and was glad to see the smiling faces at the vet’s office. She didn’t even mind when we said, ‘See ya later’. When we picked her up in the afternoon she wasn’t nearly as happy, and after getting our three pages of instructions we weren’t happy either.
When our first dog, Mattie, was ‘fixed’ we brought her home, put an old t-shirt on her and took a couple of adorable pictures and that was pretty much the end of the ‘fixin’ deal. Apparently vet practices have changed in sixteen years and we were not prepared for the tutorial on the Elizabethan collar, aka, the cone of shame. The cute young vet tech cheerfully explained how we’d put this collar on Daisy and when she quite trying to bother the stitches at the end of 10 DAYS we could take the cone off. I think I muttered, ‘You’ve got to be kidding’.
Daisy is still at that awkward stage in her development and she could not figure out how to maneuver around the kitchen wearing this silly cone. She couldn’t fit through the doggie door and ran into corners. She felt the need to let me know of her displeasure by continually banging me in the legs with the cone. The cone was too long for her snout to get close enough to the dinner bowl. We took turns sitting on the floor to hold the dinner bowl.
I though it would be OK to take the cone off for a bit while I brushed her, she loves that. She seemed happy to be released from the contraption and I enjoyed brushing her. When the time came to put the collar back on, it slide on easier than I expected. I was congratulating myself until I realized it was on backwards and it was no longer a cone but more of a cape. That might have worked because it covered her tummy but it also covered her legs and she couldn’t walk. OMG, good thing I’m not a nurse.
Daisy doesn’t understand anything about four paws on the floor, she can dance on her hind legs, never bothering to put the front paws down. She manages this by bouncing off the stove, dishwasher, counter, table and me. I’m a perfect dance partner, she insists on leading and is big enough now to push me around the kitchen. The frustration quickly gets to me, so she spends the dinner hour watching us from her kennel in the kitchen. Daisy has so many good qualities that are such a treat; she enjoys being brushed, she loves to retrieve and she plays with her toys without tearing them up.
I know it is tough for Daisy because we have elevated Zoe to sainthood. Zoe was smart, she was eager to learn and loved being with us, but that’s not saying we didn’t have to overlook a few things. Zoe never had a toy more than a day, she tore up all of them, when she was a puppy she destroyed five pairs of dollar store reading glasses and a library book that we had to purchase for $20. She never met a wastepaper basket that didn’t need emptying, she’d go in the closet and check my pockets for tissues. Most of our dish towels and wash clothes had decorative fringe that they didn’t come with.
When the grand kids came to visit the first thing they learned was ‘put it away or it belongs to Zoe.’ That was difficult for the kids, but we learned long ago to put things away or pay the price. Zoe had us well trained, we never left the newspaper on the kitchen table unless we wanted it shredded. The chocolate cake caper was one of the first stories we told Daisy. ( found in the original Miss Daisy post in October 2018)
I remember one Christmas Monty decided we should prepare a duck for dinner. Off we went to the grocery store where we learned the going price for a duck was fifty dollars. I couldn’t see spending fifty dollars on a duck when we could have a perfectly good chicken for about eight bucks. I promised we’d roast the plump little hen with veggies in the clay pot. We loved the mouth watering flavor of the clay pot. We enjoyed our dinner, and after washing up the clay pot I set it to drain on a dishtowel beside the sink. Zoe sauntered by the sink and gave the dishtowel a yank and the clay pot hit the floor and shattered. Monty was so annoyed, we could have had a $50 duck, but instead we will be replacing a $50 clay pot. My sister-in-law, Carol, came to the rescue and sent us a clay pot after one of her visits.
I guess the moral of the story is, dogs are wonderful companions, but they have unique personalities and quirks just like family.
She is still adorable. I hope she is “all better” by now and is rid of that awful cone of shame. I remember when Muffy had to wear on she refused to lie down. She would just stand in the middle of the room. After we went to bed I woke later and peeked. She was still standing there.
Oh, I’m so sorry for Muffy. Those cones are ridiculous, I’m glad Daisy is over it now and we are moving’ on.
Ducks are free at the park. Just say’n.
Why didn’t we think of that, next time!