Bazinga the Wonder Dog went to the vet’s for her spaying on Thursday. Her surgery was yesterday, but due to work hours, we dropped her off the night before.
It was a very strange thing, having no Bazinga in the house.
I’ll admit, I was worried and scared. Bordeaux, because of their short faces, can have problems with anaesthetic.
The clinic was six kinds of awesome, calling to let me know how things went, that she was ok. Turns out, her surgery was SEVENTY minutes longer than expected. And, it took three people to lift her off the table after. A friend suggested that the vet techs were likely cursing my name for that one.
So, of course, Bazinga now has to wear the Cone of Shame.
Do you know what happens when you take a normally fairly clumsy dog and put a Cone of Shame on them? Disaster. She’s been banging against walls, getting caught in doorways, and in her eagerness to get some love from her people, pinning folks against cupboards and walls. She wants to nuzzle her people, which results in shoving the edge of the Cone of Shame into their knees, thighs, and in the case of the Minions, bellies and shoulders.
Frankly, you don’t know if you should pity her for her patheticness, or laugh. I’ll admit, we laugh.
The Littlest Minions, however, are not at all pleased with this turn of events. Both of the boys have tried to pull the Cone of Shame off of her.
And, because the meds are still wearing off, Bazinga is sleeping a lot. The Little Minions object. They seem to think that they need to assist in a jail break. They pull at the walls of the crate, rattling it and yelling, and have been found fumbling with the locks.
THEIR Bazinga doesn’t get locked up, dang it.
They both came up to me, yelling and gesturing, then running back to Bazinga in her crate. And, because they apparently believe me to be to slow to get it, repeated it several times over the evening. Translated, it loosely meant, “Hey, Dummy! Set our Bazinga free! Evil warden, let her go!” Or something like that. Given the glares and yelling, I suspect there may have been some not so nice language involved.
Between Cubby’s stitches, and Bazinga’s surgery, I’m a bit afraid to wonder what may happen next.
But, I do know that everyone at the Non Stepford House will be glad when Bazinga is back to her wonderful self. Clumsy, seemingly slightly brain-damaged (ok, she’s not *actually* brain damaged…as far as we know. But, when Wolf repeatedly tosses her treats, bounces it off her nose, or between her eyes, and the dog loses it, you start to wonder), lovable, cuddleable self.
However, she does know when she’s done wrong. Just before she went for surgery, I caught her with her fat butt up on my couch. Big bad no-no. And she knows it.
“Bazinga! WHAT do you think you’re doing?!”
She scrambled down off the couch.
“What did you do?”
This is the look I got.
“That’s right. You should hang your head in shame. Shaaaaaame. Shaaaaame!”
And she did. Wouldn’t look at me for a while.
Sidled up to me, nudging for a petting, but still wouldn’t look at me, until I let her know she was forgiven. Then it was tail wagging, head rubbing, love fest.
No, she’s not the brightest crayon in the box. But, given a choice between a smart dog, and a dog who is the best-natured, most patient, most loving animal I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, I’ll choose the dumb dog every time.
Basically, I’d choose a Forrest Gump over a Sheldon when it comes to pets.
How about you?