Lonnie, The Wonder Dog

Morton does not like his Elizabethan collar at...

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I mentioned before that my son got a new dog.  His name is Lonnie. He is a terrier mix extraordinaire. In the past two weeks that we’ve had him, he has become a part of the family. Perky ears, big brown eyes, and a bundle of energy.

Yesterday he had “the procedure” done. He jumped in the van yesterday morning, a little apprehensive as to where we were going while it was still dark outside. Once we got there, we waited in the front lobby. Lonnie was such a good boy. He didn’t even bark when led away by one of the workers. Sigh.I know he is just a dog, and he doesn’t have human feelings in the same way that we do…but, still. I comforted myself with the thought that Lonnie doesn’t need to be a daddy, so I was doing the right thing. He would be fine. He would love us again, after this was all over with.

Last night, it was time for pickup at 7pm. All the dog owners that had their “babies” get the procedure were waiting in line at the big glass windows. One lady commented that it was like watching people at the hospital, looking at all the babies in the nursery. Our babies were a bit furrier, but sweet none the less. Lonnie was one of the first ones brought in. He was quiet. Probably still a little groggy. Once out of the carrier he perked up and was ready to move!

Then it started. Lonnie licked his stitches. “Lonnie, don’t lick. Lonnie, please don’t lick. Lonnie, stop it!”  Lonnie, being a dog, did not listen very well. The urge to lick was just too great. He wanted to do the right thing, but he just couldn’t. He looked at me with the big brown eyes.

One of the ladies told us that since Lonnie was a small dog we could just use a plastic milk jug as an E collar. So…… that was what we were forced to do. Lonnie gave us no choice. I washed the jug, cut the bottom off, and cut a hole for his head. I taped up any rough edges and slid the collar over Lonnie’s head. He was not thrilled. He tried to get it off. He was frustrated and banging his head around because his vision was partially obstructed. He looked up at me with the big brown eyes. “Why are you forcing me to wear the cone of shame? Haven’t I been a good dog? Don’t I show you love? How could you humiliate me like this?”  I tried to explain. I pet his back. I rubbed his head. He just didn’t understand.

Lonnie is currently laying on the floor next to “his boy” who pets him periodically while doing his school work. He looks pitiful.

I told him this was not for forever. He turned his head the other way, with the cone on it, as if to say….”You are dead to me.”  I left the room dejected.

Lonnie just strolled into the kitchen where I’m sitting at the breakfast bar. I felt some plastic brush up against my leg. I looked down. Big brown eyes were staring at me. “Pet me?” My heart melted. I think he is willing to be friends again.