How about we try staying out of The Cone, little one…
LP and her eye surgeon, Dr. Klys.
So let’s add up the weeks. An eye ulcer in May, another one in October – that’s somewhere around five months in a cone for 2012.
I’m going to put her in a bubble, I swear.
Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have some sniffing and running and playing to catch up on….
It’s good to know that I’m not the only one who has to remind myself every so often…
I might have to ask them to make a few modifications to her title, though.
Pugs are not mere dogs.
Clearly, they have never met her in person.
I see a patient file, a bottle of anaesthetic drops and a cone undone… this can only mean ONE THING!
Have you ever felt SO relieved, you thought you’d throw up?
I mean – I know this isn’t a life-threatening thing, per se, but there is something to be said for quality-of-life-threatening, y’know? (not that losing one – or both eyes – has EVER, really slowed a pug down)
Lola Pug’s injured eye is healing “exceptionally well”, so keep doing what you do, little Pug.
She must be feeling better…
…not 10 minutes of having her eye opened, and she’s back into the mama Stink Eye.
Nice, little one, nice.
Someone can’t believe her eye!
No one has made a kibble advent calendar yet?
Sorry, Pug. No chocolate pour vous.
Something tells me a good ear skritching might go over even better with you, anyway.
We’ve been quiet on the blogging front recently, ’cause there really hasn’t been too much action or fun around here recently. HRH is either grumpy or depressed these days, and it’s truly a special day if I can even get her interested in a longer walk of any sort.
This doesn’t mean, of course, that she’s stopped being totally hilarious.
Witness evidence of our recent “walk”…
…all the way down the hallway to her buddy, Boss‘s door.
She plops herself down in front of his home, willing him to come out.
Thing is…sometimes he actually does come out.
And so, the pug continues to learn that stalking sometimes actually pays off.
Way to go, me.
Now. About that WALK, little pug….
Yup. We’re still here.
Still stuck in a cone.
It’s hard for LP when she can’t chase balls, lick my face, or play with her friends (they’re all terrified of her cone, so they keep a good distance from her, poor bean).
Heck, she can’t even eat or drink water without my lifting the bowl up for her.
But perhaps this time of rest and contemplation is good for her puggie soul, because, really, she is a lucky little girl.
I like to think that she’s using her extra energy to heal her eye, but I rather suspect she’s actually carefully plotting out how she’s going to wreak havoc when she’s finally cone-free again.
Keep healing, bubbah, keep healing!
Sometimes I have to feel like a terrible pug mum in order to be an awesome pug mum, and this past week has certainly been *filled* with those moments.
There is what we hope is a rapidly healing eyeball under there, so paws crossed we’ll be cone-free by the new year.
Oh, you pugs and your eyeballs….
Someone is getting tired of her cone…
…I can’t really blame her. I’m tired of it, too.
It has been pointed out to me that the cone works to amplify her glare.
As long as it doesn’t help manifest the laser beams she’s clearly trying to shoot at me from her eyes, I think I’ll be okay.
Soon, baby, soon.
…as to who the brains of this operation really is….
You really can be so creepy sometimes, Pug.
Lola’s eyeball continues to heal (we hope), and it sure is great when she gets little letters of encouragement like this from her buddies…
Boss, as you might recall, is Lola’s little admirer who lives down the way. He’s already grown to be bigger than she is, at 12 weeks old, so I’m curious to see how this friendship will develop.
In the meantime, Boss’s gift seems to be doing good things for Lola’s recovery.
Keep healing, little one! We like your decorated cone, but we like NO cone even better.