I hadn't been home fifteen minutes tonight when there was the thundering noise of Charlie on a rampage though the house. I heard Ian in the living room say - good grief - and then into the back of house zips Charlie. I see that he's managed to stick his head through the handle of a gift bag that I had put on the dining room table. In trying to back out, he had pulled the entire bag over his head. He was terrified and racing through the house trying to rid himself of this menace.
I found Charlie, crouched under the Christmas tree, with the handle still over his neck along with part of the bag. He is not declawed so I expected some battle wounds, but he was just happy for Mom to make things better.
And then there's Eddie. He figured out how to use the raw outside edge of his cone to scratch his rear leg and tore it all to pieces and ripped out one of his drains. This required yet another trip to our vet, i.e., a two-hour round trip drive to town. Michelle, count your blessings. They suggested pipe insulation. It's slit on one side and the super adhesive keeps it in place. Ian cut one foot lengths and put them on Eddie's cone so now he has a crown. We take his halo off for outside outings and walks, and when we come back inside, he stands patiently while we re-attach this monster to his head. He's such a good dog. It astounds me how much he loves us, and in spite of not understanding what has happened, accepts that he has to wear this gear.
When Things Don't Go 'Right'
6 hours ago