Coneheads

The dogs got neutered on Friday. I was a total wreck for most of Friday and Saturday worrying about them, cleaning up vomit, listening to whines and rustlings all night, and trying to keep them from destroying the entire house in their cones.

"Augh. I don't feel good..."

Ralphie on drugs...

Yes, that stain is from Ralph's vomit fest Saturday morning. It is now gone thanks to a carpet cleaner and a can of spot remover. Offended that I showed this picture? Tough cookies. I had to be there and clean it up, people. You are only experiencing the tip of the Ralph ralph iceberg. 

"Mom, this is seriously getting old. Stop taking pictures of my pain."

"GET IT OFF!"

Collision.

Sleepy guys.

More comfortable collar I can only wear under close supervision because I'm completely incapable of not messing with my stitches!

"Mooooom! It's not fair. I hate the cone of shame!"

Technical difficulties.

Trouble makers.

Tony and I left the boys in their cones of shame in our big bathroom with their beds and toys and water for a few hours on Monday. 

We arrived home to hear the water running. 

We opened the door to what could only be described as coneageddon. They had helped each other remove their cones (sneaky buggars) then proceeded to romp around in our bathtub, turn the faucet on, chew the mess out of their cones, flip over both of their dog beds, and rip the stuffing out of one of them.

No, I don't have a picture of this. Yes, I put a picture of a dog vomit stain but I don't have a picture of this outrageous event.

Needless to say, they now have to stay in the smaller bathroom when we go out now. Sans beds. 

It's never easy...