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Navigating the cone of shame

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Our dog is annoyed. For the last three days he’s been navigating with a cone on his head. And when I say navigating, I mean bumping off furniture, walls and my backside, to get where he wants to go. It’s reminiscent of the English comedian Mr. Bean, in the episode when he gets a turkey stuck on his head and bounces off the walls of his apartment.

And although I empathize, it seems better to make light of the situation rather than be down about it because the cone is temporary – and if the situation were reversed, our dog Rupert would be laughing at me.

Dogs and their owners hate the cone but it seems to work, aiding in the healing process. Still, eating, drinking and sleeping have all become more difficult. Can’t someone please invent something better than a cone?

We’ve all seen those poor creatures walking around with the cone, and everyone has a story of the time their dog or cat had to wear one. In our case, our dog is wearing one post-surgery, after impaling himself on something sharp during an off-leash adventure on the weekend.

When we picked him up post-surgery, the veterinarian warned us he would try to remove the cone. Indeed, he has tried a few approaches – shoving his head deep into a bush and removing it quickly, banging the cone on the ground, and a more gentle approach whereby he slides his paws on either side of the cone, trying to coax it off. No matter how hard he tries, he just can’t shake that darn thing.

Traditionally the cone is referred to as an Elizabethan collar, supposedly reminiscent of the ruffs worn by dogs in Elizabethan times. Nowadays, and somewhat tongue and cheek, the cone is called a pet lampshade, a pet radar dish and the cone of shame. And I’m not clear if it’s the dog that is shamed by wearing the cone or is it the owner’s shame – having to walk with their pet in a cone?

Despite the look, it does have a purpose. The cone protects our pets, preventing licking, chewing or biting at its body, or in our case allowing time for stitches to heal. I suppose we should be somewhat thankful to Frank L. Johnson, who apparently invented the cone in the early 1960s.

Anti-cone proponents will tell you the cone limits the pet’s peripheral vision and is not comfortable. My favourite advertisement for a cone alternative depicts an inflatable ring called the Boobooloon and features a dog and cat that look like they are ready for a day at the beach. The traditional cone isn’t attractive, but the vet seems to indicate that it works.

A few days from now the cone will be gone, the leg will be healed, and the cone of shame will be a distant memory. But until then, I’ll attempt to keep out of my dog’s path, because having that cone rammed into the back of my legs really hurts.