Ka-thump.
Ka-thump, ka-thump, ka-thump.
Her head bobs wildly with her uneven gait as Tess giddyups across the wood floors in the house, gaining some modest speed after a hesitant start. It is Monday night and Tess is learning to hobble on her new peg-leg.
Diagnosed earlier in the day with a broken toe -- the outside (5th) toe on her right front paw, to be precise, possibly caused by a bad landing after a jump playing fetch -- Tess was outfitted with a stubby splint, high enough to cover most of her leg.
It is hot pink, a color which seems to suit her well.
Still, she clearly hates it.
And if that weren't bad enough, she must also wear the dreaded Elizabethan collar so she won't pull her splint off (she enjoys a brief respite from the contraption, left, as she eats dinner).
The giant plastic funnel encasing her head causes her to careen wildly and collide into walls and furniture. And into Cowboy, on occasion.
Cowboy quickly learns to keep his distance after being whacked a couple times by Tess's cone. It brings calamity, wherever she goes.
But wait. There's more.
My vet, Dr. Palmquist at
Centinela Animal Hospital, says Tess's activity level must be drastically curtailed for the next
60 days. As in no fetch, no running -- not even much walking. This is a challenge for her, she lives to race "out deep" to fetch her orange tennis ball.
And so our first night passes with considerable angst. Tess at times is beside herself, restless and whimpering in frustration, unable to stay in one spot for very long.
So she wanders. Ka-thump. Ka-thump. Ka-thump. From the computer room to the bedroom. From the living room to the kitchen. Then into the hallway where she finally stops, resigned, as she realizes she can travel no further down the narrow passage way without ricocheting off the walls on either side of her. Slowly, she turns, reverses her direction, and pauses again. She heads back to the living room. Ka-thump. Ka-thump. Ka-thump.
At one point, Tess vanishes altogether for about 30 minutes, prompting a flashlight search that eventually discovers her tucked behind the bushes in our darkened backyard, hiding from the world and all her misery I suppose. (I briefly feared that she had somehow gotten out of the yard, although there's really no possible way. And even if she did, I console myself with the thought that surely a lost dog wearing an Elizabethan collar and bouncing along on a pink leg cast will be quickly noticed and given pity and shelter.)
Throughout the rest of the evening, Tess's rigid pink stump of a leg levitates, kicking stubbornly at the offensive cone in an attempt to dislodge it from her head. I take the collar off her for a while, to see how she'll do. But within the hour she's busily dismantling her splint, pulling cotton tufts out from the top. So back goes the collar.
As I'm writing this, Tess is lying next to me on the sofa, having managed to thrust her chin onto my arm, the bottom of the plastic cone jammed into my side. Her eyes plead with me: DO something.
Sigh. If I could, Tess. If I could. It's all for your own good, I tell her. And only for a season.
Fifty-nine more days, to be exact.
Ka-thump.
Daily Breeze reporter Donna Littlejohn has shared her homes with a succession of wonderful, funny, and occasionally difficult canines -- Muffin, Fritz, Ellie, Mercy, Pilgrim and now Cowboy, an Australian shepherd-border collie, and Tess, a border collie. From strong-willed terriers to weirdly obsessed Australian shepherds, they've invaded her world with boundless energy, wet noses, muddy paws and soggy tennis balls. But they've really brought so much more than that -- like laughter and joy, some unexpected life lessons, and more than a few tears along the way.
Josh Grossberg grew up with the usual array of animals: goldfish, dogs, hamsters, parakeets and turtles. He now owns the loudest dog in the South Bay(Video: Rocket the Dog) and is the least popular person on his block. He spends his free time in dog parks, pet shops and always has an extra plastic bag in his pocket just in case. He also has a cat.
Donna,
Check out the "no cone" collar
http://www.handicappedpets.biz/xcart/no-cone-collar.html
My dog Reilly had to wear a cone for several months following surgery on a front leg and this saved us. She was much happier without the cone as was I, no bumping into walls, door ways and I didn't feel so bad for her. It absolutely works to keep them from pulling off the bandage, even on a front leg.
oh boy...poor thing.....(that goes for you and her )
here are a few therapy ideas.....I know they are aweful inside the house but cow hooves..specially the filled kind ,provide hours of entertainment value...filling a kong with treats works as well
if you check the www.petedge.com catalog I believe they have a much softer , cushion like alternative to that stupid collar ...
do you know how she did this ?
thanks to both of you -- I have seen the softer cones, I will ask my vet if we can use one of those instead.
For now, she seems OK without it, I finally took it off her last night when she refused to settle down and insisted on being on the bed with me, crashing into my face with her cone until I finally removed it. She nibbled at her cast a couple times, but would stop when I'd correct her. Then, exhausted, she finally went back to her crate and I finally fell asleep at around 2 a.m.
The cone is definitely a bigger discomfort for her (and me & Cowboy!) than the cast at this point.
As to how it happened, she began limping at the end of our stay at the dog park on Saturday afternoon. She'd been chasing her ball and made a couple high jumps. So I'm guessing it happened when she landed wrong. One of the office staff at the vet's said they see a LOT of dogs who seem to hurt themselves playing fetch, believe it or not. Who knew? Maybe getting some sheep for her to herd would be safer after all.
Another idea for an alternative collar is this one I found in the catalog Solutions.
http://www.solutions.com/jump.jsp?itemID=12772&itemType=PRODUCT&path=1%2C2%2C4%2C490%2C524&iProductID=12772