Dog in a Cone
Leggy, her long, lean body
patrician nose,
knowing dark eyes
anchoring 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
refusing to move
This unguarded dog
who sleeps on her back,
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
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, stretching
that sighthound body
nuzzles us, 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. ❤️