Mazie does not "do" confinement or cones well.
The resemblance is uncanny, no?
We're also supposed to hold up her leg while she goes to the bathroom, but she refuses to go if I'm touching her. She whirls around in her Elizabethan (or Coneheadian)-style collar, and glares at me like this:
Anyway, it's been a week since the surgery, and she's already trying to use her leg, way ahead of schedule. In this case, overachieving is not a good thing. Overall, she's been a good sport, and has avoided the worst item on the no-no list: jumping. That is, until...
We took her for her recheck at the vet this afternoon, and she just about lost her doggy mind with excitement, clearly having no memory of the fact that this was the place where she had been anesthetized twice, X-rayed, and cut open as of late.
As soon as we got out of the car, she leaped over my shoulder and the cone burst open, so I had to crouch down in the parking lot and try to keep a very excited dog calm (and expletives don't work, in case you were wondering) while I closed it again. I'm sure the receptionist saw us through the glass door and thought that I was only putting it on for the purpose of the appointment. I mean, that's what I would think. Once I fixed it and we headed toward the office door, Mazie tugged at the end of her leash, gasping for air, and banged full force into the door with her helm (another fun nickname for the cone of shame).
She made it in alive, however, as did I, and then the jumping started. The jumping that we hadn't seen for a whole week, and that she was apparently saving up just for the vet to see.
After being reminded multiple times of the importance of not "letting" her jump, and the need to keep the jumping dynamo in confinement, and after my declarations of "I swear, she hasn't been like this until this moment" fell on skeptical ears, I gratefully received the news that Crazy Mazie was healing well, and that her stitches would be out in a week.
That is, if we make it that long. Mutt.