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Ok, Dudley is not exactly a man, but he is encased in a plastic mask.   That is to say, today, on the day that his stitches were to be removed (ten days following his surgery for a benign tumor removal), he managed to chew the bandage just right and rip out the stitches and the skin surrounding it.   Today at the vet, I was told that he had to “start over from day one” and they put my sweet baby under again and re-stitched him, with another ten day time frame of recovery.

Waaaa.

It’s our fault entirely.   The plastic cone he’s supposed to wear on his head wigs him out, so we “compromised” by keeping him on a leash 24/7 (including through the night) and he was doing fairly well.   Until last night when I thought Casey had him and he thought I had him, and I finished Kenny’s bath to discover that Dudley had ripped his bandage off from the inside out.   Now he had chewed on his bandage a few times before, and every-time we returned to the vet for a new one, and though he was a little behind on his recovery, the prognosis was good.  

But now he is sitting at my feet, head encased in a plastic cone, and 100% miserable.   He is not allowed to go up the stairs (so guess where Casey and I are sleeping tonight… the downstairs bedroom), not allowed outside at all without a leash, no walks, no playing, cone off only to eat.

Waaaa, again.

If all this weren’t bad enough, we are leaving for our vacation on Sunday to the Outer Banks, chosen off-season primarily for the reason that we can bring dogs on the beach then, and Dudley loves the ocean.   Oh woe, my furry gray friend.