A few months ago, the little town of Lyman started covering its telephone poles, bulletin boards and mailboxes full of “SPAY AND NEUTER YOUR PET” flyers. Yes, the chop off your manhood and take away your femininity mobile was coming to town. Ah-ha! this. will. solve. everything. everything. What kind of male dog runs away if he has nothing to run to! Appointment set. And as of June 10, 2011 our boys became a little less manly, and a little more….neutral. Now the funny part about this wasn’t the man-to-man chat Brent had with them moments before their big day, or it wasn’t the jokes about enjoying their last moments as real men and their seemingly understanding of the going-ons. Though those were all highlights of the times leading up the event…the best part of the entire experience was indeed the cones. The Cones of Shame, more precisely.
A dog hopped up on drugs is funny…two dogs on drugs with giant cones on their heads is even better. The concept of walking, mixed with depth perception issues, unsteady legs, and the alleged cones, makes for a night full of pure entertainment. They spent the first few hours with their heads hung in shame. Tank dosed in and out of consciousness and slumped over at a moment’s notice. Zip just whined. And whined and whined.
The following stories can only be explained by picture:
Nothing will separate Tank from his food. Come heave or hell, this kid will eat. Let a cone intervene, and pure desperation sets in. As he walked over to his food canister and upon realizing he couldn’t get to the food because of his cone, he grudgingly rested the upper rim of the cone against the food dispenser and sighed in defeat. And sat there for a good five minutes without moving, only letting out a little groan every now and then.
Zips need for constant attention and acceptance led him to a “foot-in-mouth” problem. Literally. He would put my foot in between his head and his cone so he could have one on one physical contact. Well, when someone would call him, or he heard a noise, or simply wanted to walk away…he couldn’t quite figure out how to separate from my foot, and inevitably get stuck.
And to be expected Tank whined his way out of his Cone of Shame for more than a day, and Zip obliterated his to pieces.
Regardless, all wounds are healing nicely….but their egos have taken a hard hit.