My dreams have come true! The stitches and staples have been taken out and Dr. B says I don’t have to wear the collar any more.

After the examination and procedure, Dr. B, and Jane, and I are together in the hospital lobby. Dr. B and Jane are talking to each other, and I’m preoccupied by the other animals in the hospital, coming in, going out, waiting for their appointments.

A little girl has just come over to make friends with me. She pets me. Then she asks what happened to me, and Jane has told her that I was hit by a car. The little girl looks puzzled and has asked, “Didn’t he look both ways when he was crossing the street?”

Jane answered, “No, dogs don’t look both ways.” She said, “Dogs also don’t pay attention to traffic lights or to stop signs.” Doctor B was there too and heard this and he nodded in agreement.

This seems to be an important issue.

What bothers me the most about being wounded is having this cone around my head. Dr. B calls it a collar but I think he’s just being kind.  The “instructions” call it an “Elizabethan collar”. Do I look like my name is Elizabeth?

I don’t understand why I have to have this cone, or collar, around my neck and head. When I walk, it bumps into things. When I eat, it bumps into my food bowl. When I drink, it bumps into my water bowl. I even have to wear it when I sleep.  So why am I wearing it?

I hear my mom and dad are doing it to protect me because I have stitches on my stomach and some medicinal cream on my belly from where my belly scraped along the ground.  The idea is that this cone is supposed to prevent me from licking my wounds, and licking off the medicinal cream, or possibly even to prevent me from biting at the stitches.  My doctors want the stitches and my belly to heal properly.

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