The Cone of Shame

Oh. The cone of shame. It's humiliating. It's annoying. It's funny...if you're not the one wearing it.

Here is Daisy in her downstairs crate, languishing in despair. You see, Daisy cannot participate in our ritual of Snuggle-Bunnies with the children as we tuck them into bed each night (long story), so we have to put the chew monster poor puppy in her crate while we go upstairs. After George and I came back downstairs one night, I opened the door to her crate and she didn't move. She just lay there, long enough for me to get my camera and take her picture. Oh, WOE IS DAISY! Don't you feel sorry for her?

How about this picture? Those poor beautiful floppy ears get caught in the cone and twisted. You might think her demon eyes are the result of the flash, but in fact, the cone has turned her into a demon. By all rights, I should be dead. She shot daggers at me from those eyes after I put the cone back on her head and put her in her crate the other day. 

Daggers, people. Ouch.

Cones can turn even Furry Golden Sunshine into Gloom and Doom. She has one joy, and that is head scratches. She cannot scratch her head herself (though she repeatedly tries, bless her furry heart), and if you are kind enough to stick your hand in the cone, she will rotate her head completely upside down to maximize the effectiveness of the scratching. Here she is with her inverted head on George's lap.

Fun ribbon I tied the cone with, isn't it? It has purple flowers on it...the closest I could get to daisies in my extensive ribbon stash.

We are going to order a soft cone (unavailable in our area) for the next time Daisy needs one. As it is, she gets the stitches out tomorrow, which is Thursday, because everything happens on Thursday. Have you ever noticed this little quirk of time or is it just true for our family? Seriously. Everything important happens on Thursdays. Nick was three when he made this observation, and now it's my favorite day of the week. I should write an essay about Thursdays. But for now, let me close with a picture of what Daisy will look like tomorrow at 8:30 a.m.

I'll bet you're smiling right now. You're welcome.