Dog in a Cone
Leggy, her long, lean body,
patrician nose,
knowing dark eyes
that anchor into mine
When, for her well-being
we slip on the cone
affix it to her collar
her eyes still open
holding on to mine,
she turns to stone
refuses to move
catatonic
This unguarded dog
who sleeps on her back
with her paws in the air,
we force to lie down,
curl her into the shape
of an ordinary dog—
No standing all night
Eight hours later
no movement
Every paw where it was
eight hours before
We are the cage
there is no crime
yet we have become
her weary wardens
Cone released
She rises, stretches
that long sighthound body
nuzzles us, and trots
out to squat in the yard
The cone of shame, is how I've heard it referenced. Our vet sells what I'll call healing suits....dog clothing that provide the same "bandaid" covering while allowing the dog to heal. And doesn't isolate.
Didi, this one made me smile. The poor dog, completely defeated by the cone, and then that final stretch into freedom. I especially loved the line about becoming “weary wardens.” Such a tender and funny observation. ❤️