“Cone of Shame?” Not so fast.

The sight of that plastic sphere around Libby’s neck hit me harder than expected, her head poking out like she lived in Elizabethan times. After one night in the veterinary surgery, my baby looked tired, spent, and in pain. At pick-up, the nurse carried her out to our car and placed her on my son Paul’s lap who sat in the back. Every movement made Libby moan. I realized then we had a long recovery ahead.

Over the past few months, Libby’s had trouble moving. Her favorite thing had always been leaping onto people’s laps to shower them with kisses—whether they wanted it or not. But lately, if she tried to jump, she couldn’t make it. We all took turns lifting her up to our laps, bed, and chairs.

Her walking was getting more erratic, fine some days, but limping others.

Finally, after consultations with two vets, endless tests, and a sit-down with a surgeon, we learned Libby had torn ligaments in both legs, a degenerative condition. We could either operate on one side or two. Since we didn’t want Libby going through this procedure twice, we opted to do both.

Yesterday, we brought her home. My little terrier, usually so full of life, was heartbreakingly morose and lethargic. Her back legs were shorn like a sheep’s, etched with some serious looking stitches. She was loopy from medicine, but thank God, it kept her in a dreamlike, less stressed state.

I love this little dog (in case you couldn’t tell from the 20,000 posts about her). She makes my life happy with her innocence, playfulness, and devotion.

Now to my frustration, we learned she has to keep the cone on for two weeks, which might as well be two years. She hates every second of it. But if she doesn’t use it, she’d eat away at the stitches and be back on the operating table. I tell myself time goes fast. Before long, we’ll have our little Libby back, running and jumping, at least according to the surgeon.

By the way, I refuse to call it the “Cone of Shame” as I’ve heard them referenced. Instead, I call it the “Cone of Honor,” a testament to Libby’s—and other dogs—fortitude and patience.

I’m thankful for modern medicine and the wonderful staff that kept our dog from going lame.

Believe it or not, I’m even grateful to the “Cone of Honor.” I know it will help bring our sweet terrier back to us.

 

P.S. Libby made a full recovery and is, once again, jumping on furniture, beds, and laps (whether invited or not). We couldn’t be more grateful to her veterinary team.

 

Have you had a pet operated on? Comments are always welcome and if you enjoyed, please share.

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