Bella is a Rottweiler I have had for about eight or nine years. She has no clue she is a Rottweiler. My ex and I were away from the house one day and returned home to discover that the lawn tractor and all our yard tools had been stolen. Bella had free reign of the back yard and the garage. We scratched our heads in wonder. It didn’t appear she was frantic about anything and she barks her fool head off at the sound of just about everything. Surely she wouldn’t let total strangers in the yard? About four hours later, Ramon’s youngest son, John, called. He said, “Hey, I borrowed your mower and stuff.” We asked how he got past the dog. “Easy,” he said, “we talked to her over the fence. Told her she was a pretty girl and asked if she was friendly. She wiggled her butt, and we put one of the kids over the fence to pet her.” [I was horrified that they put a child over a fence with a strange dog.] Once distracted with someone to lick, Bella was happy. And she probably showed them where the key to the tractor was.
The week prior to this blog story was an ‘if it can go wrong it will’ week. Bella’s tummy rejected dinner Wednesday night. Then it rejected breakfast Thursday morning, this time there was blood showing in the offering she placed at my feet. I called the vet. The vet actually asked me if I could [I’ll put this delicately] transport some of the rejected stomach content. So I scooped up the dog towel I mopped with and threw it in a garbage bag. Knowing this vet trip would make me late for work, I called in the situation to the office, got the leashes out and hooked her up. Yes, I said leashes plural. I run one around my waist to link to her and have one I control with my hand. This madness is based on the fact that I am a pianist. Bella could snap an arm or a wrist if she got carried away. My thought with the waist leash is that my whole body weight would help hold her back. If nothing else, once my body hits the ground, there is the possibility that I might be able to wrap myself around a tree to stop her. At any rate, we are a sight going anywhere. Plus, picture in your mind how short I am and how big this dog is. Everyone stares.
Speaking of big is where this story is going. After the Thursday trip to the vet, where Bella got a couple of shots, I had weekend plans she seemed intent on destroying. She had either an allergic reaction to one of the shots, or she was stung by a wasp when I put her out at noon on Friday. While I was on the road, she managed to chew and lick her hip until there was no hair on a 3.5 inch area and tore her flesh until it was raw like hamburger. Back to the vet. After treating it with medicine, Dr. Amy said I had to keep Bella from licking it. Since the clinic didn’t have a cone of shame large enough for Bella’s neck, I spent the first two nights connected to this dog with a leash so I could tug her head away from her hip. Neither one of us slept well.
Sunday afternoon, the vet tech called my cell phone and said they located a cone. I picked it up and we buckled Bella into it. This cone was so large I had to fold it for her to go out the door. She was literally scraping the paint and plaster off my walls as she navigated the house. And I think she banged it on the bars of my brass bed about 80 times a night to let me know how much she hated it. In the picture you can see my other two mutts hanging their heads as if to say, "Uh, we didn't do anything. Please don't make us wear one of those fashion statements."
I leave you with the comments from my friends on facebook:
How many channels can she get with that?
Holy Cow! Did you get a permit from NASA for that satellite?
How’s the reception for Russian radio?
That’s one big cone of shame.
Latest technology in satellite dishes – moves room to room with you.
Can I borrow her? Our network is down.
Geez that thing is huge! But Bella’s huge!
Bella to Mars. . . better be watching for those green people.
LOL I feel sorry for Bella, but, I’ve had my laughs for today for certain. 