I’ve been quite busy between family stuff and writing my second book, so my blog has, unfortunately, languished in a corner, nearly forgotten. That changed, recently, though.
My dog, Hope, a Belgian Malinois who is my certified partner in tracking with the North American Police Working Dog Association, developed hot spots. Part of the treatment involved shaving the fur around her spots. Not surprisingly Hope did not care for this. As she tried to get away from the clippers she stumbled into a box in a corner and knocked a copy of my blog out onto the floor.
At this point she became preoccupied with the blog and I was able, with the help of my vet tech daughter-in-law, to work on her medical care. When we were done, Hope let us know that she could pick this up where I left off. She offered to write once a week about life from a dog’s perspective. I think she was influenced by “A Dog’s Purpose,” which I recently read (and saw in the theater – the movie is good, but the book is better) with her.
Please join me in welcoming my new guest blogger, Hope.
Hello humans. And cats. I’ve seen lots of cats sitting on computers, so I guess you’re reading this, too. You should, cats. It will help you.
I had wanted to address human preoccupation with social media in my first post, but I found myself in an unusual situation. I’m in a cone.
My human talks about things like “liberty” and “justice” a lot. I’ve heard the concept “cruel and unusual punishment” mentioned multiple times.
Let me tell you about cruel and unusual punishment. I don’t know what I did to deserve this thing. I mean, first, they shaved me and then they put stuff on me, then … a cone. I haven’t had this indignity since I was very young. I don’t know what I did wrong then and I don’t know what I did wrong now. I can’t eat well (props to my human, he feeds me by hand while I undergo this imprisonment) and I can’t use the same water bowl as the other members of my pack, because the cone gets in the way.
My self-esteem has taken a serious blow. Dakota, my cat friend (OK, he’s a cat and we live in the same house; maybe I’m using the term loosely), does not have the proper respect for me now. The squirrel that runs back and forth on the wire above the backyard? He laughs at me. Cowgirl, the puppy, has tried to get me to play with her a few times, but now she thinks I’m just useless.
The worst part? Two little Bichon bitches were out for a walk while I was, too. They mocked me. I had been walking fast, already, wanting to get around the block and back home as quickly as possible. At this point, I poured it on – full speed ahead! I was humiliated. I, the great Maligator and scourge of the neighborhood, being laughed at by dogs I could have had for lunch, with room left over for dessert.
I struggle to eat and drink, my self-esteem has taken a pasting, and I can’t lick or nibble anything on my body. Heck, I even had trouble sleeping with this thing on, at first.
I’m sure a lot of you think a big, ferocious dog like me needs to be kept in a cone for some strange reason. I’m not writing for you. I’m writing to the reader who sees this for what it is – tyranny run amok. Free Hope now! And send me treats.
Hope stands by her work and won’t hear any statements about the cone being for her own good, to help her heal better. She’s getting tons of attention and treats and she’s using the old water dish so her cone doesn’t bop into the container on the new one. I have to drag her into the yard to go to the bathroom, though. That squirrel is a real jerk and gets a kick out of it when Hope nails the cone on the patio furniture.