Tallulah is in need of comfort. Her idea of comfort is to wedge herself firmly against me or Wasabi - or preferably both of us at the same time - thereby insuring maximum discomfort for all of us. It is amazing how beat up her plastic cone is already. She has whacked it into doors and beds; she has licked it and chewed on it; she has lodged it in every small space she can find; and she has used the edges of it to scratch her incision.
The instruction sheet says to keep her calm. For seven days. Tallulah. Calm. Uh, right. I asked the vet (who, sidenote, is HILARIOUS - he's the one who stretched out her wrinkly skin the first time we saw him and said, "Damn! You could fit a whole 'nother dog in there!") how on earth I was supposed to keep her from running around like a crazy thing and he said, "Good luck with that." "Drugs, man, give me drugs!" "For her?" he asked. "Yes, of course for her." I said. "Sorry I can't help you there," he said, winking at me. (You would have to see this guy and the faces he makes maybe to think he's as funny as I think he is.) He did actually give us a once a day pain reliever for her - which seems to have zero to no calming effect on her. This is going to be a LONG week.