Cone of Shame

Our puppy got spayed and is now sporting that hideous cone of shame.  And it is a sad sight.  She hated the cone since it was put on when we picked her up at the vets.  Her head hung low, as if the cone weighed a gazillion pounds.  It was hard for her to walk at first.  The cone would get stuck on the floor, my daughter picking up the cone so we could get her to the car.  Getting in the car was another ordeal.  Having a low sports car would have been ideal for this situation.  However, we have a SUV, which is not low and is hard for a puppy who just had surgery to get into.  Thank God I didn't have to take the truck that day.  After the kiddo and I were able to maneuver the cone, I was able to pick up Sadie's back legs and tuck her inside the car.  We must have been a sight to see in the parking lot.  The ride home was pretty uneventful (thankfully), Sadie holding her head low, unable to figure out where exactly to put it.  Getting out of the car was another task.  It was like Sadie was unable to figure out what to do with her hind legs.  The kiddo finally coaxed her out of the car and walked her over to the front steps.  The cone hit the step and Sadie froze.  The kiddo lifted the cone over the steps as I lifted her front paws and then back paws on each step.  Thankfully there are only 4.  I open the door and Sadie attempts to enter the house, her cone getting stuck on the door frame.  I push her cone over and lift it up, seeing the look of contempt in Sadie's sad glazed eyes.  We all finally mosey into the house and get Sadie into the living room.  She stands there, not knowing what to do.  I put her bed and blanket on the floor.  If she can't make it up the stairs, she is not going to get on her couch.  It takes a while, but she finally figures out how to lay down.  She is not impressed with any of this.  The kiddo laid on the floor next to her and colored her a "get well" picture.  Sadie gets back up and tries to move.  She's stuck.  Her head is on the floor, unable to move the cone forward on the carpet.  "Pick your head up," we tell her as we both go to lift her cone.  Sadie is having none of this and puts her head back down.  The kiddo keeps working with her to lift the cone and her head.  After a while, we try to get Sadie to eat a little.  She walks into the wall near the laundry room where her food is kept.  I straighten her out and try to coax her in with some food in my hand.  She eats it, but won't come any closer to her dish.  I let her out of my hand again, and push the bowl closer to her.  With the next handful of food, I bring my hand down to the bowl. Visions of hand feeding her for the next ten days went through my head.  "Please use your dish," I pleaded with her. She then proceeded to eat from her bowl. Success! I let her be for a bit.  Every time we heard her whine she was stuck.  Whether on the rug with her head down or on a wall or door frame, we would have to go rescue her.  Taking her out to do her business was another endeavor.  Sadie was used to going out without a leash, but we didn't want her taking off and pulling out any stitches.  I, apparently, was the designated dog walker.  It is January.  It is cold.  There is snow.  And I have a dog with a cone on her head.  Poor Sadie kept trying the sniff the ground unsuccessfully, getting snow in her cone in the process.  Every chunk of frozen snow we came across she somehow managed to get stuck on. Every little noise she would stop, not sure what it was or where it is coming from; lost without her peripheral vision. The longest, coldest 15 minutes of my life went by until she finally eliminated.  I thought that job to be finally done as we headed back inside.  Until we reached those dreaded steps.  Another five minutes until we were back inside.  Sadie spent the rest of the night trying to get comfortable and whining whenever she was stuck until she finally fell asleep.  As the days went on, Sadie learned to pick her head up and maneuver more easily.  The cone is in rough shape, banged up on all sides from her walking into things.  Our puppy loves attention and needs lots of loving.  Unfortunately, with a cone that is so much harder to do.  She will follow us around, banging into our calves with the cone.  Or if she is in front of us, she'll turn abruptly, banging into our shins.  I'm thinking about putting a layer of foam around the edge of it so my legs will have less bruising.  Our cat has been enjoying the cone head Sadie, as she is unable to reach Lily under the coffee table and beds with the cone on.  I think the rest of us are ready for the ten days to come to an end.  Sadie is getting used to the cone for the most part, figuring out how to get herself unstuck, making her way up the steps, and only slamming into my shins or calves a few times a day.  But I know she'll be just as happy as us when that darned cone can come off.