Hugo’s tongue, always an active force employed in washing human legs, arms, and faces, concentrated recently on his own right front leg.
More than anything, the tongue’s favorite activity is the cleansing of human cuts, But now it was concentrated on one of his own.
It looked pretty bad, slightly less than an inch in length. Not bleeding, but definitely red. Well worth a trip to the vets.
That visit resulted in Hugo’s disappearance to the inner workings of the facility. When he reappeared, he had staples closing the wound. And a cone to deny him the licking he would so have loved.
He looks cute.
But the cone has introduced lifestyle changes.
He has learned to sleep with it.
He has learned to eat and drink with it. He surrounds his bowls with the cone so he can get his snout closer to food and water.
The cone has not slowed his desire to sniff every blade of grass he encounters. But it does affect his ability to place his nose in an effective position. To counter this limitation, he has come to view the cone as a shovel with which he can dig to his heart’s content.
Hugo is mostly border collie. That means he likes to herd. Meaning us. Usually he moves us in the desired direction by pushing with his nose. He still attempts that, but the nose doesn’t extend beyond the outer edge of the cone. This means the gentle push becomes an all-out attack by that very same and very large edge. Ouch!
He has to keep the cone on for at least 11 days. I know both he and I will be glad when the final day arrives. Today is day five.
He gets sympathy when we take our walks. This morning we met a man with his dog who commiserated with Hugo’s sad state. He said his dog recently had to wear the Cone of Shame.
I said, “Oh, no. This is not a Cone of Shame. This is a Cone of Strength.”
* * *
Hugo joins me in wishing you a Happy and Joyous Thanksgiving. His voice is a tad echoey as it reverberates inside his new headgear.
More than anything, the tongue’s favorite activity is the cleansing of human cuts, But now it was concentrated on one of his own.
It looked pretty bad, slightly less than an inch in length. Not bleeding, but definitely red. Well worth a trip to the vets.
That visit resulted in Hugo’s disappearance to the inner workings of the facility. When he reappeared, he had staples closing the wound. And a cone to deny him the licking he would so have loved.
He looks cute.
But the cone has introduced lifestyle changes.
He has learned to sleep with it.
He has learned to eat and drink with it. He surrounds his bowls with the cone so he can get his snout closer to food and water.
The cone has not slowed his desire to sniff every blade of grass he encounters. But it does affect his ability to place his nose in an effective position. To counter this limitation, he has come to view the cone as a shovel with which he can dig to his heart’s content.
Hugo is mostly border collie. That means he likes to herd. Meaning us. Usually he moves us in the desired direction by pushing with his nose. He still attempts that, but the nose doesn’t extend beyond the outer edge of the cone. This means the gentle push becomes an all-out attack by that very same and very large edge. Ouch!
He has to keep the cone on for at least 11 days. I know both he and I will be glad when the final day arrives. Today is day five.
He gets sympathy when we take our walks. This morning we met a man with his dog who commiserated with Hugo’s sad state. He said his dog recently had to wear the Cone of Shame.
I said, “Oh, no. This is not a Cone of Shame. This is a Cone of Strength.”
* * *
Hugo joins me in wishing you a Happy and Joyous Thanksgiving. His voice is a tad echoey as it reverberates inside his new headgear.
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