Dad took us out this morning and there was – you wouldn’t believe it – a squirrel! Kita jumped off the edge of our front steps and ran across the yard. I tried to follow, nearly pulling Dad’s arm off, but he restrained me and made me calm down, forcing me to break Squirrel Protocol.
Cone status: on and obnoxiously stable.
Emotional status: I swear I just want to rub my ears myself! I’m not going to lick my leg!
Whine status: Fine. I give in. It’s taking a lot of energy to keep it up anyway. I now only whine when Mom and Dad are not in the room with me, causing me to think that they are probably out giving love to some other canine out there. Traitors.
Food status: I have in. I eat now, too. I mean, the hunger strike of 12 hours couldn’t possibly go on much longer, for my health at the very least.
All in all, I have resigned to the fact that Mom and Dad have essentially trapped me on one floor, almost as though they do not want me to use the stairs. I have access to my deck (which has been baby-gated so I can’t do down the stairs to the yard) so I can at least lay in the sun as often as I want.
I have also stopped snapping at the cats because I realize that the best way I’ll ever be able to clean my ears in my current state is to let them do it for me. Riley has a particular penchant for my ears and will sometimes go in too deep, making my eyes close tightly.
I have also grown fond of chin rubbins. Should anyone feel the need to give me love and attention (as my clearly neglectful parents have not been as comforting as I would have hoped at this stage), I would request that you come with hands ready to scratch my chin. It’s all about my chin.
He’s calmed down a lot and stopped with the useless noise, which is really nice. Unless one or both of us is upstairs and then the incessant whining begins anew, loud as ever.
James is okay but seriously thought either he or Mozzie or both were going to fall face-first on the concrete. Mozzie is very jealous of Kita and Kita, who is in her elder years, keeps SHOWING OFF in front of him, as though she knows he can’t do the things he normally does. She actually ran, hard, into him to get him to play. He sat down and whined then, frustrated that I wouldn’t let him run after her. While we only have 8 more days of the cone, we still have 15 weeks of recovery and movement limitations. At least the cone bruising will stop soon.