The Aftermath

Guys, it's downright pathetic in this house, due to the little vet visit from yesterday.  Olive is handling post-op life like a champ, she only looks pathetic.

She napped her precious little face off most of yesterday, and spent the rest of the night trying to de-cone herself.  When that didn't work, she moved on to attempting to eat some dinner, but her new accessory was getting in the way, big time.  Instead of panicking, she realized it was time to get pro-active, so she started scooping up the food with her little paw and putting it into her mouth.  When the zombie apocalypse happens, this little nugget will be the last man standing.  Joey, on the other hand, is screwed.

She has spent 95% of the past 20 hours in my lap.  She can't figure out how to live life in a cone, at all.  She can't eat, drink, walk.  Nothing.  Boyfriend has to hold her water bowl for her at an more easily accessible angle.  I have to hand feed her, and not dog food.  No way.  Princess Shithead is getting sausage, cheese, bacon, whatever she wants.  And anytime she wants to move locations in the house, I have to help her.  She just stands in one spot, staring at a wall, until somebody picks her up and moves her.

Seriously.  And, to avoid either one of them attempting to jump up on the bed last night, I spent the night on the couch with them.  That wouldn't have been so horrible, except Joe would only stop whining if she was laying directly on top of me.  I spent the last few minutes before dozing wondering if I was going to stop breathing in my sleep due to the 55 pounds crushing my lungs.

Thankfully, we're a little closer to normal today.  Olive found a lizard to chase, and Joe spent most of her morning trying out to figure out how to still give me kisses with her pretty new necklace in the way.

Success.