Red Dog in a Blue Cone

Our two Italian Greyhounds recently had a routine dental procedure and while they were sedated, common canine growths were removed.  This is all part of their annual routine care, but it is an upsetting ordeal nonetheless, at least for my husband and me.  Sighthounds are sensitive to anesthesia, and it seems like an eternity passes before the vet calls with a post-surgery report.

Our boys were brought to us following a briefing with the vet.  Each had tooth extractions, but only Red had lumps removed necessitating an Elizabethan collar to prevent him from removing his stitches.  The collar was a soft blue cone, and I wondered how he felt about it.

He looked silly.  It was too large for him, and it appeared to swallow his head.  From the side you couldn’t see his muzzle, he resembled a lampshade with a dog body.

I wonder if he felt as ridiculous as he looked.  Did he cringe as we left the vet, passing other dogs on the way out?  I don’t think he cared, as he was still under the influence of the anesthesia.  Was our other dog Moose now embarrassed to be seen with him?  I don’t think he cared, either, as he was also still a bit loopy.

When all of his faculties were restored, Red ran through the house with a swoosh.  If curtains could run, this is the sound they would make.  Swoosh.  Then a crinkle.  It took Red a bit to adjust to the size of the cone.  He would scrape it along doorways and walls as he ran.  SwooshCrinkle.

Red answered my unspoken question as to his affinity (or lack thereof) for the cone.  I came home one day to a Red dog missing a blue cone.  It was left in a wad on the crate floor.  Red was pleased with himself, wagging his tail at me, but I was not pleased to discover that stitches from one wound were removed, exposing bone.

Off we went for repairs, the blue cone in tow.  Not only did Red receive three staples in lieu of stitches, but the blue cone was tied even tighter.  Poor boy.  One more week to go until he is the Red dog no longer in a blue cone.

Red the Dog

Red the Dog

Rabbit in the Hat

We lost our last bunny right before Easter this year, a Flemish Giant named Jack.  Looking to add another to our home, I incorrectly assumed that our county shelter would have a surplus of rabbits after the holiday.  Instead I reconnected with someone I had gotten a bunny from in the past, a local magician who raises French Lops for his shows.  My previous French Lop, Cleo, was one of the best rabbits I ever had the privilege to love.

On June 22 we brought home a two month old fawn Frenchie male.  His parents were huge in size, and anticipating that our little guy may grow as big, we named him Rambo.  His mother, Winnie, looked just like our Cleo, only a larger version, but the same chinchilla color.  Rambo’s father, Joe, was equally huge, with broken fawn colored fur.

Rambo is relatively small for now, but his body will eventually catch up to his large ears.  It won’t be long before he is big enough to fill a magician’s top hat.Image