Dog Megaphones

I always said I'd never do it, but today, I had no choice. My wife's dog - a Golden Retriever named Comet - had to have his ACL reconstructed in a surgery last week. Today, we removed the bandages to reveal a scrawny, hairless leg that reminded me of an uncooked turkey drumstick. Not in a good way.

The long incision - now laced together with long stitches that look quite a lot like a football - injected a bit of familiarity in my mind. I had the same surgery a few years ago and share the same scar ... on the same leg, for that matter. I guess the two of us will look good together this summer.

Back to the point, it didn't take long for Comet to curl around and start licking the fresh wound. Of course, having experience with casts myself I didn't think much of it. After all, the itch that can develop beneath those things is enough to put anyone into the loony bin. A minute later, however, I noticed his head jerking back from his leg and a series of ripping sounds found my ears. It didn't take me long to realize that he was removing the stitches with his teeth - something that I didn't do following my surgery. Probably because I can't bend that far.

Knowing that the cut wasn't fully healed, and fearing a future of gangrene, I rushed over to the vet's office and stood in line behind a fat lady with a loud cat. Following her presentation, (handing the carrier off to a young girl who carted it into the back - the meowing fading behind a closing door), I stepped to the plate and asked for a megaphone.

"I'm sorry. A what?" came the reply. Evidently I wasn't speaking their language.

"A megaphone. You know, the thing that goes around a dog's head and keeps him from pulling stitches out of his leg?"

"Oh. A scratch collar." She was now laughing, as were her coworkers. Who knew that such a device had a real name?

The lady asked the breed of my dog, I assume for sizing, then disappeared and came back a moment later with a large, clear, U-shaped piece of plastic with Velcro and rubber weather stripping. I looked at the gadget and decided not to ask what it cost. Knowing would only make me want to construct my own and that never ends well.

I bought the collar and headed home. The emotions that went with me were mixed; concern for the stitches in one side of my mind, but quite overwhelmingly a concern for Comet's mental well-being flooded the other. I was somewhat reluctant to put the thing on him. I remembered the times before when I'd seen dogs wearing the megaphone. The pathetic look in their eyes told it all. They reminded me of the kid in the High School locker room who wore the huge orthodontic device that wrapped around his head like a big exclamation point saying, "Pick on me!" Did I really want to subject my dog to the same treatment as the nerd in Gym class? Purple Nurples, Wedgies and Icy-Hot in his underwear, or whatever the dog-equivalent to those pranks might be. It just seemed cruel, like I was destining the poor animal to future ridicule from the other neighborhood dogs.

When I arrived home, I found Comet on the front porch, again working on the stitches. The bottom of the scar had two long strings hanging loose like a Chinese-made plush toy and my decision was made. Damn the bullying from the community canines, the stitch-biting had to stop.

I removed the backing from the Velcro strips and placed the cone around Comet's head, then firmly affixed the Velcro as the vet lady had instructed. No sooner did I step back than Comet realized there was something still attached to him. He immediately went berserk, thrashing his head around, falling down and pawing at the plastic trap that now held his head. For several minutes he fought against the device, the whole time wobbling on his bad leg and then finally he cold-cocked himself into the side of the porch swing and gave up in either frustration or dizziness, I'm not sure which.

About that time my Alaskan Malamute came to the porch to see what the commotion was all about. I looked at her face and, the second she saw him, I knew exactly what she was thinking.

"HA! You got a LAMP SHADE! OH MY GOD, HOW FUNNY! My brother, the dweeb of the neighborhood ... for God's sake, don't let anyone see you! OH! What a riot ... you're a geek! Ha ha ha!" Dogs can be so cruel.

I've checked on the Retriever several times this evening, each time feeling sorry for him and resisting the urge to remove the contraption. Mostly I find him just sitting in the garage with his lamp shade held to the air. He looks like a hairy Victrola from days gone by.

My daughter asked me earlier today, "Daddy, what is that thing you put on Comet's head?"

"It's a satellite dish for his doghouse, sweetie. If he points his head due South, he can pick up Animal Planet".

"Huh-uh!" She exclaimed, laughing wildly.

My wife didn't laugh. She only gave me "the look".

All the best,

WDL