My little conehead is doing just great. Taking her for a walk is hilarious; when she lowers that big white scoop to the ground she looks like an alien taking samples of the local biota. Weird, otherworldly snorfling sounds come from it.
The cats now think the cone is a toy. Dixie will be snoozing peacefully when a little black paw comes reaching around the corner to biff her on the nose.
At work, I spent about an hour on the phone with the World's Happiest Place today, trying to sort out a missing transportation voucher, and being thoroughly nauseated by a constant exposure to the two songs which comprise the entire Lion King II soundtrack. Sure, they want you to think there's more than two, but I was on hold with Disney for a long, long time and all I heard was 42,000 versions of some innocuous drivel about being yourself while being more than yourself, plus a really obnoxious ditty called, apparently, "She's your mother and she loves you." Several extremely loud people belt out this lyric over and over in a typically Disneyoid innocuous, homogenized, African/Caribbean style. "She's your MOOOOOOOther," one group ululates, and another responds, "and she LOOOOOOOves you." They both harmonize, "She really LOOOOOOOves you, you ungrateful child, you didn't go to Harvard or marry the Steinberg girl, but she still LOOOOOOOves you!" All right already. I am never renting this video, not that there was ever any danger of this.
My revenge was cutting up my Disneyworld shirt, recently given to me by a Disney representative, when I got home to make bandages for Dixie who still has a drainage tube in her. The tube comes out tomorrow. I haven't had to give her any medication tonight; she's feeling much, much better. She still wanders around a lot, though, instead of resting comfortably. It's the cone, I think.
