Mozzie’s Post-Surgery Journal: Day 10

Mozzie’s Journal:

Today was a good day. Mom used this tool to help me get on the chaise lounge of the couch and I stopped whining about life. The freedom, coziness, and familiarity of the couch was exactly what I needed. I napped for nearly 6 hours on and off in this position.

Then, I woke up with a TON of energy. So I tried to play with Kita and the next thing I know Mom is giving me a bully stick. For no reason! I just got one without having to do anything extra good or special tricks! Then, every time I tried to play with Kita, I got a toy or a reward or something. So now I keep trying to play with Kita because obviously the lesson is that by trying to play I get a treat.

The dog across the street keeps peeing on the corners of my driveway and I have to pee there to mark it as mine. Before the cone was present, Mom and I walked down to the bottom of the driveway everyday and she let me pee everywhere I wanted. Now, I’m on the leash and I have to go where she tells me to go. It’s so humiliating to be 5 and have your mom demand that you “go potty” for the entire neighborhood to hear. I don’t go on command, Mom, and I’m not your canine slave who just goes when told. I have thoughts and feelings and I want to pee where I want to pee, not where YOU want me to pee, MOM! My life is not for you to dictate! God!

Sharon’s Journal:

Ah, we have hit the restless stage. And he has already figured out that I will distract him with treats and toys anytime he seems restless so…now he’s always restless.

I used our GingerLead to lift him up on the couch which nearly took my shoulders out. So…no more of that. I’ll tell him tomorrow.

Mozzie’s Post-Surgery Journal: Day 9

Mozzie’s Journal:

I am a dog of simple means. I enjoy lounging on my yard and taking in the scenic neighborhood. I only need belly rubs 20 times a day. I can help myself to food, especially if it isn’t my food. I have few worldly possessions but of those that I do have, Boo Bear and Monkey are my most prized. Both Boo Bear and Monkey make fun noises when squeezed and despite their lack of structural integrity for strong chewers like myself, both are intact stuffed animals.

Kita found Boo Bear and promptly sat down with him, licking him on the ear like I do, then biting his middle to make him squeak like I do, and then even quizzically looking at him after he unexpectedly squeaked like I do. It was all too much. How could she? How could Boo Bear? I did the only thing I could think of and ran towards her as fast as three of my legs could carry me, and then swung my cone at her face, knocking Boo Bear away from her. I then told her that, in no uncertain terms, was she to go near my Boo. I let her know loudly so she couldn’t ignore me and so that, under the Bone Protocol, all area canines have been alerted to the audible claim of the item. In that moment, the cone and I became one and I knew my training had led me to this – canine and cone, force for justice.

Then, I remembered that Monkey was across the room so I ran after Monkey and quickly brought her over to where Boo Bear was. Then, in a slightly quieter tone, I let Kita know that Monkey was also mine. Kita got the message and went somewhere with Mom.

I have my Boo Bear and my Monkey and Kita can’t take them and now that she’s not in the living room with me, I also have the whole dog bed area to myself. And I can’t get to my Boo Bear or my Monkey with my paws and my mouth at the same time.

I’ll just scoop them up into my cone. And then I’ll sit here with my toys by myself.

All by myself.

All alone.

Wait, I don’t want to be alone.

Mom? MOM? MOOOOOOOM?

Sharon’s Journal:

I get where Mozzie is coming from; I had a security blanket, too. I don’t remember ever beating up my siblings over it though.

After his growling and barking fit, I brought Kita upstairs to my office to hang out with me while Mozzie got his toys and was ignored for bad behavior. Luckily, no cats were involved in the making of the drama (yay, no pee to clean!) as they were busy eating breakfast.

If he thinks he can talk like that to Kita, who is a guest in this house, he has another thing coming. We taught him better manners than that.

Mozzie’s Post-Surgery Journal: Day 8

Mozzie’s Journal:

As with all innovation there seems to be some hiccups in the use of my cone-scoop. Further testing is required although I think I may have worked out most of the kinks. I can slam Mom wherever I want her to be. I can move Kita around as needed. The cats are no problem. The elements of the natural world, on the other hand, are clearly out to get me.

Kita saw a deer which was even more exciting than the squirrel, so we enacted Deer Protocol and promptly alerted all other canines to the deer’s presence. We then began to try to get the better view out the window, which required that we jump over each other and push the other out of the way.

Mom did not like this for some reason (something about taking it easy, no jumping, down, down, bad dog). So she leashed us up and took us for a walk. Kita peed and I had to check it out, and despite Mom’s pulling, I managed to get some pee to go inside the bottom of my cone. Then,  I was sniffing about since the snow is gone and I can smell all the things, and I got too close to the poop I left in the woods earlier today. When we got inside, Mom wiped down my cone but before she could finish, I needed a serious drink of water. I gobbled it down really fast and then immediately threw it all up. In my cone. That was also covered in feces and urine. Mom let out one of her sighs where she mumbles under her breath and rolls her eyes and grabbed paper towels. Now I smell like puke even though Mom has cleaned my cone and neck about six times.

Sharon’s Journal:

Guess who’s getting a new cone tomorrow?

Mozzie’s Post-Surgery Journal: Day 7

Mozzie’s Journal:

Attention fellow enconed canines! Your cone can be used as a scoop! There is still a little bit of snow here and I quickly realized that I can scoop up the snow with my cone and then gobble it up as it slides to my neck. This makes my neck wet and now a little smelly, but TOTALLY WORTH IT!

Since I’m the height of the counter, I can scoop up all kinds of things: cats, raw meat defrosting, the cats’ food, any and all remote controls on the coffee table, any and all cups (both empty and full) on the coffee table, and, of course, Mom. Dad doesn’t seem to be swept into the cone as easily, but Mom goes right in every time. She keeps talking about stitches. Then Dad said something about her being probably overdue for stitches.

Kita and I have officially joined forces, except on the issue of breakfast time (my favorite time) or dinner time (my favorite time) or when we get treats (my favorite time) because the presence of food makes us mortal enemies racing to eat the other’s rations.

Now that I am properly weaponized, I’ve decided a cease and desist is necessary in regards to the whining. I mean, unless I need to go out. Or I have an itch. Or I’m  hungry. Or I need an emergency bellyrub. Or I can’t remember how to get to my water bowl with the cone again. Or I get stuck on something. Or both Mom and Dad are home but not in the room I am currently in.

Sharon’s Journal:

He figured out how to use the cone for evil. We just had to move anything we love to higher than 4 feet off the ground. This dog is stupid smart and it’s driving me nuts.

I am probably going to need stitches if he keeps scooping me. He rushes at me from behind and I end up “sitting” next to his face in the cone until he whips his neck around and sends me flying to the floor or the corner of something hard. It’s super fun.

Mozzie’s Post-Surgery Journal: Day 6

Mozzie’s Journal:

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.

Sharon’s Journal:

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.

Mozzie’s Post-Surgery Journal: Day 5

Mozzie’s Journal:

0500 hours: Kita alerted me to a squirrel on the deck. We promptly employed Squirrel Protocol and began to alert all neighborhood canines to the squirrel’s presence.

Mom was sleeping in the couch and seemed very concerned about the squirrel as well as she also began yelling.

Luckily both me and Kita were able to go right back to sleep. When we woke up Mom had gotten a lot done around the house and it was my favorite time-breakfast! I still haven’t figured out how to properly eat with the freaking cone.

The whining has become overall ineffective on both Mom and Dad. I have stopped whining most of the time and have started breath-whining. It’s where I wine very softly with every breath, as though whining under my breath. I sound like an old man casually showing disgust with his children’s life choices. Sometimes I fall asleep while breath-whining but as soon as I wake up I remember to get going.

Mom finally stopped singing the hound song. Instead, she’s singing annoying jingles that further mock my situation. Nothing will ever be good in this world so long as the cone exists. Nothing. I fear I will lose all will to go on before I- SQUIRREL!

Kita! Holy crap! It’s a squirrel!

Hey! Hey! Hey you! Hey Squirrel! Hey! Hey! Heeeeey Squirrrrrrrrrel!  Hey!

Sharon’s Journal:

Dog bark + scared cats = new scratches for Sharon. I’m sleeping upstairs tonight.

It’s much easier to ignore his whining now that it’s clearly only about the cone. His leg isn’t swollen anymore and the brushing is gone so now it’s a matter of hoping he doesn’t do anything stupid to ruin his healing… Like running after squirrels.

Mozzie is not amused.

 

Mozzie’s Post-Surgery Journal: Day 4

Mozzie’s Journal:

The cone is still present. I have figured out that if I close the edges of the cone around my snout and pull my head backwards, both Mom and Dad react very strongly. I will repeat this process until either the cone comes off or I am given a distraction treat. I have them very well trained.

The incessant barking isn’t going as planned. It’s almost as though my parents have grown immune to the sound of my whining. The upped ante plan is out. Now, I will bark at Kita’s actions, but not whine at all unless I suddenly REALLY need to lick something I can’t get to. Which is everything, but I will only whine most of the time instead of all of the time.

Mom was painting the mudroom when I had a sudden whine emergency that sounded different than the other emergencies. Kita had gotten on the couch (AGAIN) without my permission (AGAIN) and I was not happy. I had jumped up suddenly and put too much pressure on my right leg, causing me to yipe. Just as Mom came up the stairs, paint-covered, Kita jumped off the couch and over my head to greet her. This was not okay. No one should greet my mom like I greet my mom for she is mine. Sooo, despite yiping, I decided to jump up to all four legs and run at Mom. She started crying for me to stop but I had to get Kita away from the love and attention that was clearly meant for me (have I mentioned that she’s MY mom?). The cats did not like us suddenly moving and making a ton of noise, and scattered throughout the room. At least one of them peed on their way to hiding, which meant Mom was going to spend more time with me because she would have to clean up pee!

Kita decided to inspect the pee and she alerted me to these stinky treats the cats left in their litter boxes. Now no one wants kisses from either of us but we have stopped begging for food we know we shouldn’t have.

In the meantime, perhaps a temporary stay on my fight with Kita is necessary, if only for the kitty brownies she shared.

Sharon’s Journal:

James can sleep through anything. This past summer he literally slept through jackhammering happening directly below the bedroom. Needless to say, the hours of dog talk were wasted on him, as he took a nap but apparently was more tired than he thought. He slept through this entire ordeal.

After cleaning up spilled paint, cat pee, litter box messes made by dogs in the boxes, and taking the dogs for a walk, I decided we definitely weren’t having human children.

Mozzie’s Post-Surgery Journal: Day 3

Mozzie’s Journal, Day 3:

I tried to up the ante on the crying that I’ve been doing, but Mom and Dad seem to not care no matter how loud or repeatedly I whine. Mom keeps singing a song at me about a hound dog which I find frustrating because she thinks she’s funny. Clearly, she is not and the fact that Dad just encourages her at my expense is quite hurtful.

The cone does provide one, solid advantage: I know I can’t hurt my head so I can ram into things as hard as I want to. This includes Mom, Dad, cats, furniture, cars, and the floor. I know that if I ram my head hard enough at the right surface, the cone will break apart and I will have a few, brief moments of freedom to lick the leg that longs for licks. The last time I had a cone, I broke it off by running head first into an oak tree. It worked. They won’t let me off the leash to run on my own for some reason.

As if to further tease and mock me, Kita, my cousin dog, is now here to visit for a few weeks. She is allowed on furniture. She is allowed to run. She does not need a leash on the property. She had the AUDACITY to pick up my elk antler toy and now the war is on. She will go down. Every time she moves, I will bark. Any time she looks at the couch, I will bark. If she sits on the couch, I will cry like I have never cried before. I will also fling my cone about, dangerously, inflicting pain and damage on any who stand in my way.

This is my house, Kita. My. House. And you are curling up with my Boo Bear and my cat friends. You will rue this day, Kita. Rue. This. Day.

Sharon’s Journal, Day 3:

The back of my legs have half-circle bruises, as though I got rammed over and over again with the edge of a plastic cone. Because that’s exactly what happened.

Also, Elvis is stuck in my head on loop.

Also also, Kita is here and everything is louder.

Mozzie’s Post-Surgery Journal: Day 2

Mozzie’s Journal, Day 2:

I have made it clear in no uncertain terms that I am not going to allow my freedom to be compromised by the cone. I am actively trying to remove it myself but my methods, thus far, have failed.

My knee feels weird and hurts and I am unhappy that neither Mom nor Dad seem to want to do anything about it, aside from the cold squares that I have decided are edible. Since I cannot get to my leg to lick the parts that hurt and inspect the parts that feel funny, I stare at my leg and loudly vocalize my displeasure.

The cats are now my nemeses. They can roam freely and are allowed on the couch. I will complain about this any chance I have and snap at them if they try to snuggle.

I am now on a hunger strike, refusing to eat my food. That will show them. (Of course, I will still eat the cats’ food, any treats I am given, and snow. Only my own food is off limits.)

Finally, I will refuse to go outside or “go potty” until Mom and Dad are asleep. I will disrupt their sleep every hour, on the hour, until one of them takes me outside, at which point I will walk the entire length of the driveway no less than 4 times before deciding I don’t really have to go.

To all my canine brethren, I will not surrender. I will not lose strength. I will lick my ass of my own free will before the week is out.

Sharon’s Journal, Day 2:

Send caffeine.

Mozzie’s Post-Surgery Journal: Day 1

Mozzie’s Journal, Day One:

The humans have fastened the strange, noise-amplifying cone on my head again, presumably to keep me from fun and enjoyment.
I will sing the song of my people at 3am, in solidarity with others who are fettered with such a cone. I will be unrelenting.

The humans are also obsessed with putting cold squares on my now-naked leg. This both feels good and also unfamiliar so I will let them know, as loud as possible, that I am unsure of their actions.

The cats have been great so far. They groom my ears, which I cannot currently reach, but they also eat my food, which I also currently cannot reach, even though Mom has shown me at least 7 times how I can, in fact, reach my own food.

Tomorrow dawns a new day, and hopefully, a new promise of freedom.

Sharon’s Journal, Day One:

Have rewritten Elvis’ Hound Dog to better accommodate Mozzie:
You ain’t nothing but a hound dog (mix)
Crying all the time
You ain’t nothing but a hound dog (mix)
Crying all the time
You ain’t never caught a rabbit
But soon you’ll be feeling just fine

Also, have been awake since 3am showing Mozzie that he is not being teased by his own food bowl and that he CAN access it despite his cone.