It's been an unusual week at my house. My dog Macc had a biopsy under general anaesthetic on Monday. The GA didn't seem to bother him much and the wound appears to be healing nicely, but of course he can't be trusted to leave the stitches alone, so he's suffering the indignity of the Elizabethan Collar, otherwise known as the Cone of Shame.I like to think of Macc as an intelligent dog, but his intellect doesn't stretch to this challenge. In the week since the biopsy he hasn't learned to make allowances for the big plastic obstruction that's suspended around his head. He's a dog who likes to lick his favourite humans. Normally that's a mixed blessing, but when the rough wet tongue is accompanied by the hard edge of plastic digging into nearby skin it's hard to remember that this is an expression of friendly familiarity. My other major complaint is the dog-door--in other households this might be known as a cat flap. Macc has been using it for about ten years. For ten years it's been big enough to accomodate him, but now the plastic cone is significantly bigger than the opening. The dogs sleep in my bedroom. The dog-door is there to allow them to go in and out during the night. Aauuggh! The sound of plastic bumping and banging against the surrounding wall as Macc insists on his right to pop out during the night is NOT a nice way to interrupt my sleep!
The good news is that the stitches are due to come out tomorrow. The not so good news is that he's likely to need further surgery--and more time in cone-finement.