THE CONE OF SHAME!

Hello there, faithful readers. It's me, back again to write on this blog for the second consecutive day. I might just be able to do this.
     Anyway, here's the thing. Something I didn't tell you the last time I wrote here is that the reason everyone was going to the beach is that Max was getting neutered.
     See, since Max was gone, nobody had to stay home and watch him, so you could see how that would be a good oppurtunity. Anyway.
     When mom and everyone came back from the beach yesterday, we watched a TV show or two and then went to pick him up. It wasn't at the vet's office; it was some clinic I'd never been to before. Apparently they were having some "Pit-Bull Special", so it was only twenty dollars. Woohoo. We walked in and the guy at the front desk asked us if we were there to pick up a pet. Mom said yes. While they were talking, I noticed something about the clinic. It SMELLED. A LOT. I held my nose for a second, but then I realized that might be impolite, so I just breathed through my mouth. They directed us to a waiting room (which wasn't really a seperate room at all. Just the same room with a different floor and walls.) With a bunch of chairs in the middle. The walls were blue, and there were posters hung all over stating the fees for different services. Apparently it's cheaper to fix feral cats than domestic ones. Why, I don't know.
     There were a few other people in the waiting room with us, and I listened to their conversations about their different dogs, showing each other pictures of their little babies on iPhones. Finally a vet (or nurse. or doctor.) came in and started instructing us about how to take care of our dogs/cats once we got them back. She said that they would be coming out of anesthesia, so they might be a little grumpy. Grumpy? Max? I didn't think so.
     Afterwards, she told us all to get up and line up in front of the door to our right so we could get our dogs back. Of course, mom and dad were REALLY slow to stand up, so we were second to last.
Me and Owen spent the time in line looking at the mirror on the ceiling.
     It was an agonizing ten minutes in line. Before us we noticed two couples getting their pit-bulls back from the vet, and one with a dog so small it could be carried without a problem.
     Finally, it was time to get Max back. A vet walked out and asked us if we were here for Max. We confirmed it, and he walked confidently through the door to his left to fetch him. A few minutes later he came out, muttered "wrong room", and entered the door to his right.
 "He lost our dog! mom said with a hint of humor. When Max came out, he was sporting THE CONE OF SHAME. Ever watch the movie UP? that's where we got that. He was groggy and bumping into a few things, but, as i expected, he was nowhere near grumpy. He had this look on his face that said,
     "OMIGOSH OMIGOSH OMIGOSH I THOUGHT I'D NEVER SEE YOU AGAIN EVER!"
The vet held him up so mom could see his incision, and he immediatley peed on the floor. I don't know whether he was excited, or the vet was squeezing the pee out of him, but he hasn't done that since he was a puppy. Anyway, we took him outside and tried to get him home, but A, he kept trying to lick our faces off, and B, CONES DO NOT FIT IN CARS. So we took it off for the ride.
     The whole ride he was whining, eyes drooping. A combination of still being slightly loopy from the pain meds, and not having eaten all day. But the vet had told us he couldn't eat until after eight o' clock, so we had to hold out until then.
     The next day, I was woken up at around ten, and was told by mom that he had had a zoomy in the middle of the night. On her face. He was supposed to be recovering, but I guess puppies don't know the meaning of relax. And when he came to greet me, he still had that look on his face. That adorable puppy-look that says, "I AM SO SO SO SO SOOOO HAPPY TO SEE YOUUUU!"
     On another note, I did that yoga DVD again today. It was slightly problematic, though, with Max around, since he thinks it's his job to lick anyone even romotely close to his level. And I was on the floor.
     While I was doing downward dog, he decided I wasn't doing it right and corrected me by licking my armpit. Yeah; I fell. Eventually I resorted to giving him his Kong filled with frozen organs, (his favorite.) and got through the whole routine. And then I started writing this. So i guess the lesson here is, dogs don't like being imitated in yoga poses and will resort to licking armpits to stop it. Yup. That makes sense.