Between Gal Friday and me, we got the cone on the Beest. She has reacted the way I thought, walking backwards for a half-hour, going thru small spaces trying to wedge it off, hiding under furniture, trying to jump forward through it. It isn't so big that her muzzle is behind it, and she ate as soon as I put the dish down without incident. But she's not a happy camper. It'll definitely put a crimp in her drinking from the bathroom faucet. It's not heavy, but she's got her nose to the floor and is acting like it's ten pounds hanging around her neck.
The Beest usually walks like a ballerina, one foot delicately in front of the other. At the moment she's walking like a Lipizanner, high-stepping in a disgusted prance.
Ah, she's laid down on the couch in a disconsolate hang off the edge. Well, this will take her mind off biting and scratching. I gave her tail and back a spritzing of the hydrocortisone spray, which should help stop the itch, if it exists. And she's off to the bedroom, belly dragging on the floor, slinking and high-stepping at once.
I'd laugh, but that'd be cruel. So I'll just smile.
The Door Is Ajar.
4 days ago