Chick Lit Cheerleader: Hot Diggity Dog!

Chick Lit Cheerleader, Jen Tucker, is here today to talk about her dogs. Well, mostly about Henry, and what happens when he has to wear a cone.

Take it away, Jen!




The Cone of Shame

Henry and Jack

I love my dogs, Jack and Henry, yet that wasn’t always the case. Both adopted at the age of two, these golden lugs were naughty hooligans when they arrived at our door. For you dog lovers, think of the most sneaky, messy, underhanded thing your dog as done. Got it in your mind? OK, now triple that and you’ll understand why it took me awhile to fall in love with these two because that was their method of operation every day, all day long, for a very long time. You look at their sweet, greying faces now and have a hard time believing it, I know. Don’t be fooled.

For many of us, summer time means allergy season. Henry, the chubby fur ball who doesn’t take great selfies, is not immune. He takes doggie antihistamine and gets a heaping portion of oil on his food each morning to combat scratching. Yet there’s something in the country air, the grass, the beds he sneakily lays on when we’re not home, that turns an innocent little itch into full-fledged digging. Hot spots appear, and what comes after hot spots? You guessed it, the Cone of Shame.

My Life As a Dog, by Henry Tucker

Isn’t this the saddest dog, of all dogs, that were ever dogs? So sad, in fact, that he can’t look you in the eye, or at the camera. The shame is too much to bear. Nobody puts Henry in a corner. He does that all by himself. Now that you’ve witnessed this heartbreaking yet hilarious picture, I want you to now move onto another type of mental imagery. Henry is only upset for a possible five minutes once the cone is on. Now picture a Henry for whom the cone of shame isn’t so shameful after all.

I’m convinced this cone has superpowers for my canine. Just as one, magical crow feather gave Dumbo the confidence to fly, I am here to say the cone seems to give our Hanky Boy an assertiveness he lacks when not wearing it. You’d think it would do the opposite, right?

Henry has learned some mad skills while wearing that thing. He’s learned to use it to open doors that are ajar, something he refuses to do un-coned. Don’t most dogs nudge open doors with their nose? Not mine. He’s also learned scraping the cone against the wall, as he paces the hallway at night, will wake Mike up to let him in the bedroom if the door’s closed. No one should wake a sleeping Mike Tucker. It’s not pretty. Just ask his fraternity roommates if you don’t believe me.

Something more insidious happens, however. Henry becomes a cone bully. I’m not kidding. He barrels through the room like a bull dozer and is unconcerned about those in his way. You know what hurts worse than a plastic cut on your ankle? Nothing. Nothing hurts worse than a deep, sheering, plastic cut on your ankle bone. And I’ve birthed three children, broken a toe, and winced over plenty of stitches and staples!

Bowling his way over anyone and anything in his path, he’ll get to that bread crumb on the floor, by God, and if you’re in his way, move! He will take you out, and take no prisoners. You’re really taking your life into your hands being near him when he’s coned. A dog on a mission, to not let anyone, or any cone, get in the way of the hunt. Henry is a cone bully like no other.

Once the cone comes off, and the fur settles, it’s reminiscent of the moments following Superman taking a telephone booth spin back to Clark Kent. Hank is once again a mild-mannered guy who is afraid of his shadow, pouts if his brother grabs the tennis ball before he does, and is the idyllic, yet timid, person’s best friend. There’s something about that cone though… If one could bottle the determination and confidence it gives Henry, would they? Good thing that confidence comes from within ourselves, rather than from wearing a bulky, WMD such as Henry’s cone.

Jack, my other sweet pup, would be a Cool Hand Luke type of cone bearer. His cone language would be Hakuna Matata, man. No worries. It’s good to be me!

Jack living the dream

Enjoy your summer!

XOXO,
Jen

Jen Tucker is the author of the funny and true stories, The Day I Wore My Panties Inside Out and The Day I Lost My Shaker of Salt. In September 2012, she had her children's book, Little Pumpkin published as an e-book. She also blogs monthly for Survival for Blondes. She currently lives in Indiana with her husband, three kids and two dogs. You can find her at Twitter, Facebook, her blog and on her website. And in case you missed them. check out her previous Chick Lit Cheerleader posts here.