Wearing a Cone. . . and other dog problems with humans

Thank you to everyone who sent kind messages about Kia, following her operation for a twisted stomach. Things are progressing mostly well, though we did have a set-back last week. I will tell you about it from Kia’s point of view:

It was about a week after the operation, and things were getting better. Anne had stopped forcing pills down my throat after every meal, and seemed to have got the hang of providing decent food. I was aware she was still smuggling my normal kibble into the bowl, but she was managing to disguise the taste pretty well with a variety of meats and fish, so I had decided to eat it. This seemed to please her, which was nice.

The only really annoying thing was my wound, which stung like crazy. I was licking it regularly to keep it clean, and had managed to scrape off some of the nasty wiry stuff they had sewn into me. I did this at night, because the first time I started to give it a really decent lick, Anne saw me, and made all sorts of worried noises, and used that ‘don’t mess with me’ bossy voice which I really do not like at all. Better to clean it at night, when she was safely out of the room. But then one morning, I heard them say they were taking me back to the vet, and that’s when things started to go badly wrong.

Now, I was not particularly worried about meeting the vet again. True, one had stuck needles into me, which was pretty horrid. But there was also a very nice girl, who fed me pieces of fish and took me out for short walks, so I was hoping we were going to see her and not the nasty one.

There was bit of a kafuffle at the vets, because they were all talking about a virus, and only one human was allowed in at a time, so Anne went to sit back in the car, and the husband took me in to see the vet.

I was unlucky; we saw the nasty vet.

This time she made the husband hold me, while she fiddled around with the wound. She was removing the rest of the wiry stuff, and I figured she’d be glad that I had made a start already, but I could tell from their voices that they weren’t very happy. Afterwards I was put in the car with Anne, who seemed upset and kept stroking my neck, but I didn’t know what all the fuss was about. We drove home.

After supper, Anne gave me more pills. They were pink this time, and tasted awful. I have become quite good at holding them in my mouth for a really long time, but she seems to have sussed this, and holds my mouth closed until I swallow. I am trying to think of a new tactic. However, the pills weren’t the main problem. What came next was much, much worse.

There I was, waiting for my praise for having finally swallowed the awful pink pills, when the husband arrived with this weird plastic cone and put it round my neck.

It was such a shock, I can’t tell you how awful it was. The collar came right up over my ears, so all the sounds of the house were distorted, and Anne’s voice seemed very far away. When I looked sideways, all I could see was fuzzy images through plastic. How was I going to keep the family safe if I didn’t have clear all-round vision? I just sat there, not moving, waiting for them to take the stupid thing off again.

But they didn’t. They went upstairs, to the upper room attached to the kitchen, and started to watch the news, saying they would check in a few minutes to see if I was used to it. ‘Used to it?’ That was never going to happen. They had clearly made some mistake, or left this thing on me as some sort of test. I would do my best to remove it.

I spent ages trying to remove it. The outside was slippery, so using a paw to force it off didn’t work. I tried jamming it between a chair and the wall, and moving backwards to scrape it off. That didn’t work either, it simply made the edge dig into my neck. I attempted to roll, but that hurt my wound so I stopped that pretty fast. Knocking it against walls, rubbing it on chairs, hooking it under my water bowl—nothing worked. The thing was stuck fast.

This was clearly a mistake, so I decided to go upstairs and find Anne, so she could see that she needed to remove it. The stairs were difficult. At each step, the collar caught on the step above, so I staggered, nearly fell, got my balance, attempted the next step. . I could hear voices above me, the television announcing that some people should stay inside, Anne and the husband speaking in tense voices about shops being empty. I tried another stair, the cone caught on the step, I staggered, regained my balance, took another step. Half way up, I realised Anne had heard me, and was coming to meet me. She made a little gasp, and rushed down to where I was, then steadied me, and together we continued up the stairs.

There was a discussion at the top. Apparently, I was not supposed to climb stairs yet, and they were unkeen for me to walk down again. The husband said he would carry me. This never works very well, and I tried to wriggle away, but he held me fast, Anne walked in front, we slowly descended.

At the bottom of the stairs, back in the kitchen, I waited for Anne to remove the collar. She didn’t. It began to occur to me that maybe, for some terrible reason, the ghastly device was here to stay. Did they not realise it made hearing difficult, it limited my vision and even running was affected? How could this be? A wave of genuine terror washed over me, my legs began to tremble, my sides shook, my teeth chattered in my mouth.

Anne put her arms round me, holding me as close as she could around the sides of the horrible collar. I felt her warmth, and the trembling subsided. I heard her praying for me. She has done this a lot recently, asking God to make me better, to let me have a bit longer, to not be frightened—it wasn’t working, I was frightened. Maybe God would explain that she needed to take off the collar. But she didn’t. She put her head inside the collar, right next to my cheek, so I could smell her skin, feel the damp of her tears on my own face. She held me for ages, her voice low and soft. There was something calming about that voice, and I began to relax, and lay down.

At one point, a long time later, Anne started to leave. I wasn’t having that. If she couldn’t take off the collar, she would have to stay until someone came who could. I jumped up, and started to follow her, the collar bashing into her calves as she walked towards the door. She turned round and came back, collected her coat from the cupboard, and I thought perhaps she was going out for a walk—but she wasn’t. She used the coat to make a sort of bed next to me, settled me down again. I lay down, feeling her slippers against my back. I slept.

When I woke in the morning, Anne’s slippers were still against my back, but her feet were gone. The collar was still in place. I was no longer frightened, but I was quite determined that it needed to be removed.


A few days later, and things have settled down. They have still not removed the collar, but I am beginning to get better at coping with it. Drinking was difficult, as the cone kept bashing the wall behind my bowl, but eventually Anne noticed the problem and my water bowl is now in the middle of the floor. The husband steps in it regularly.

There was also a problem with the grumpy old cat who lives in the utility room. The first morning, when I went to give her her usual morning kiss on her head, I forgot about the collar. I licked her head, raised my head to walk away, and the collar caught her neck and nearly took her head off! Whenever she sees me now she runs and jumps into her box. But I figure it’s just payback for all those scratches I got when I was a puppy.

I am managing to hear; I simply have to turn my head to face in the direction I am listening. Eating is fine, as long as Anne remembers to give me the correct size bowl, as some are too wide to fit within the rim of the collar. I have learnt to approach at the correct angle, so the cone fits over the bowl and I can eat normally. I do sometimes forget to allow for my extra size, and bash into furniture, getting momentarily stuck. But it’s not scary any more, because I know I can reverse, adjust my angle, try again. Anne does complain that I walk too close, and I regularly bash her calves. But I do this in the hope that she will realise the problem and remove the cone. It is taking her a frustratingly long time.

The problem with the pink pills continues. I have tried several strategies, and my best one was to shoot them quickly into my cheek, where they could remain the entire time Anne held my mouth closed, and then I could spit them out in the corner later, when she wasn’t looking. But she managed to notice this, and now clamps my mouth shut way too fast, so the pills remain on my tongue. Then she places delicious smelling food near my nose, so my mouth waters, and I can’t help but swallow. I am trying to think of something new.

There is an added procedure now, when twice a day my wound is washed. I am assuming they now are attempting to do what I was doing before all this malarkey with the cone started. Anne holds me still and speaks in that low comforting voice, while the husband baths my wound with something that smells sharp and astringent. I can tell from their voices that they’re still worried, but occasionally they reassure each other, saying it’s not getting worse, or it looks a little better today, so they seem satisfied with the activity. I hope they’ll get bored with it soon and we can all get back to how things used to be. Another annoyance is that Anne insists on washing my bedding every day, muttering things about keeping the wound clean. It means my blanket doesn’t smell of me anymore, it smells of detergent. I am unable to remedy this by rubbing into nice smells in the garden, as Anne comes out with me each time and calls me away from anything dirty.

But I don’t like to complain too much, and I am definitely feeling better. Today I noticed the sheep next door had lambed, and I started to go and investigate. Anne called me back, before I could squeeze through the bush and check them all properly, but it’s now on my ‘to-do’ list. As soon as the humans realise this stupid cone is stuck and remove it, we can start to get back to normal. Let’s hope it won’t be much longer.


Thanks for reading. Don’t forget, my Invisible Jane story continues every Tuesday and Thursday, my blogs are posted every Monday.

Stay safe, and have a good week.

Love, Anne x

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Now is an excellent time to read my travel book. Happy adventures from around the world.
Available from Amazon.


Now is an excellent time to read a new book. All my books are available from Amazon — have a look today. The link to my author page is here.     

Now is an excellent time to read my travel book. Happy adventures from around the world.
Available from Amazon.

What if…a happily married woman falls in love with someone else?

What if…you were the mother of a psychopath? The story of Joanna and her family – an exciting novel.

This is the story I always promised myself I would write ‘one day’ while I was teaching in an infant school. A light-hearted novel about 3 teachers.

What if…a psychopath managed to do something good. Can psychopathy ever be a strength?

Sowing Promises
by Anne E. Thompson
Available from an Amazon near you today.

A hilarious family saga set on a farm. Being a parent has no end-date, as Susan discovers when her adult sons begin to make unexpected choices in life.
A warm-hearted, feel good novel that will make you smile.

A Completely Horrible Night

We all have bad days, I think last Sunday was one of my worst, though it might have been even worse. It began just fine, Bea was here for the weekend, and we’d all had dinner and watched a film, and I was preparing to go to bed. I’d fed Kia and put her out for a last wee, but I had forgotten to sort out the heating for the night, so popped back downstairs. Bea and Jay met me in the kitchen, and said something was wrong with Kia.

Kia was pacing, looking uncomfortable, and stretching her neck as if about to vomit. I had earlier dropped an egg in the garden, and I wondered if she’d eaten it, especially as when moments later she was sick, the result was what looked like uncooked meringue. Maybe she was allergic to egg? But then my mind began to process what was happening, and that she had been fed an hour earlier, and yet none of that food had come back up. Plus, Kia was now panting, stretching out her neck as if she couldn’t catch her breath, and when I felt her stomach it was as hard as a rock. I had read about symptoms like these on one of the German Shepherd Facebook groups I belong to—Kia was showing all the signs of a twisted stomach. And that is often fatal.

I woke Husband and said I thought we needed to go to the vet. We are very fortunate—in a nearby town is a 24 hour veterinary hospital, and they have an out-of-hours casualty department for emergencies. This was an emergency. At least, I thought it was. But when I put on my old dog-walking coat, and collected the lead, Kia seemed suddenly fine. She started to wag her tail, and trot around excitedly, ready for a walk.

“Could Kia simply have had a bad reaction to something she ate? Was I overreacting by rushing her to hospital?”

Possibly, but the facts were that if she had a twisted stomach, she needed to be operated on as soon as possible or she would die. If she had simply eaten something bad, the vet would tell us the visit was unnecessary, we would apologise and return home. The risk of not rushing to the vet was too great. We rushed.

Kia was okay on the journey, obviously uncomfortable, but not in agony. We arrived, I explained the problem, and the vet agreed it sounded suspiciously like a twisted stomach, which is quickly diagnosed with an X-ray. I signed the consent form, Kia was led away, we waited.

Within a few minutes the vet returned. Kia had a twisted stomach, the vet could operate, but Kia is an old dog (12 years old, which is old for a GSD) and the operation was a major one. Did we want to take the risk and spend the (considerable) money? It was all too quick.

Pause for a minute with me, and try to imagine the situation. An hour ago, Kia had been fine, all was peaceful at home. Suddenly, everything had changed, and my completely healthy, very fit dog (lets face it, one of my best friends) was now about to die. What to do? Was I committing her to months of pain, to never properly recovering, because I didn’t want to let her go? Or should I give her a chance, should I decide that she is remarkably healthy for a dog that age, she had every chance of a full recovery and a few more years of active life, and I should not deny her that. What was the right choice? As is often the case, I have no idea. There was no time to take a moment, to pray for wisdom, to test how I felt. The decision had to be now.

I chose to operate.

I then went to sit in the car, leaving Husband to listen to the potential risks and to sign the release forms, because all the sensibleness had deserted me, and a hot fountain of tears was about to escape and I wanted to be somewhere private. I sat in the car, aware of how much I love that opinionated, determined, faithful animal, and how much I was losing if she died; and I cried.

Husband returned, and we drove home. The vet said that if, during surgery, there was too much internal damage, then they would phone and ask permission to put her to sleep. (We were unable to give consent prior to surgery; I don’t know why.)

At 4 am, the vet phoned. The surgery had gone well, Kia was in recovery, but the next 72 hours would be critical.

At 7.30am, the vet phoned to say Kia was awake, and seemed remarkably well. By the evening she was able to walk outside to toilet, and was drinking, though she still had not eaten.

Monday morning, the vet told us that Kia still had not eaten. This didn’t overly surprise me. She has always been a picky eater, and at home she will only eat when I eat. If I put her food down in the morning, it will sit there, untouched, until she sees me eat my evening meal—then she will eat. The vet suggested that if I was comfortable giving all the medication, Kia would be better at home, as she needed to eat. We collected her (and a suitcase of pills).

As I write this, Kia continues to improve. She is still very weak, and is eating lots of little snacks rather than a proper big meal. But gradually her strength is returning, and she is relaxed at home, as long as she can see me, she is happy. The drugs make her drowsy, and her shaved tummy needs to be kept warm, but I think she is going to be all right.

I am so grateful to the dog owners who described the symptoms of a twisted stomach so that I recognised them. I am grateful to the vet, who reacted so professionally. And I am grateful to God, who allowed me to keep Kia for a little longer, even though we never know how long that will be.

Thank you for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

Anne E. Thompson has written several novels and non-fiction books. You can find her work in bookshops and Amazon.
Why not sign up to follow her blog today?


You can read more about Kia in my travel book (though she was only invited on the English holidays!) You can read it free if you have a kindle. Also available in paperback–a lovely Mother’s Day gift.

Now is an excellent time to read my travel book. Happy adventures from around the world.
Available from Amazon.

UK link Here

How to Train a Dog with Opinions

How to Train a Dog with Opinions

Image 9     This article is aimed at people who, like me, prefer life to be easy and who own a dominant, intelligent dog. It is possible to train a dog to complete obedience (I know, I went to the classes and watched other people) but it takes either a lot of time or a degree of cruelty. If you are someone who always revised for exams when you were at school, (and probably weren’t the middle child in a family) then this article is not for you.

My qualification for writing this article is that I grew up with a Border Collie dog and I now own a German Shepherd dog, and sometimes we manage to fool complete strangers into commenting that she is “very obedient”. Both the dog and I know that this is not true, but we work together to give a good impression. I also have raised two boys. Apart from the chewing furniture part, I think most of the advice probably applies to parenting boys too.

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   My main suggestion is that you let the dog train you. She will try to do this any way, and it’s much easier if you just give in. The trick is to pretend that you are slightly dumb (not difficult in some cases) and only learn the things that you want to learn. Your dog will go to great lengths to teach you. So, when my dog wants to come inside, she barks. I do not want her to bark and therefore I do not respond to this. After a while, the dog will realise that I am too stupid to understand her bark, so will stop. When she is sitting quietly by the door, I open it. She will then train me to repeat this action by sitting next to the door whenever she wants to come in.

The same principle works with sticks. If my dog tries to train me to throw a stick by bringing it near enough for me to reach and then running away with it, I ignore her. After a while, she realises that I am too stupid to play the ‘chase you round the garden trying to get the stick’ game and so she will sit next to it. When she sits next to the stick and waits, I pick it up and throw it. She then knows that she has trained me to do this and when she wants the stick thrown, she will sit patiently next to it and and wait for me to respond.

I also did this when going for walks on the lead. When she pulled me, I refused to ‘learn’ that this meant “go forwards” and I stood still. When she was waiting next to me, I moved forward. She soon realised that I was ‘unable’ to walk while she was pulling and would only move forwards if I was leading.

Dogs chase things. It is very difficult to stop them. We live on farm land and when I first got my dog, the farmer suggested that I put her in with a ewe. A dog who has been tossed by a ewe does not chase sheep. (I think this is how farmers train their dogs.) I was not prepared to risk broken bones and pain for my puppy, so I decided to not do this. I am now very careful to ensure that she is always on the lead near farm animals. She is pretty good as she has regularly walked with me through fields of animals, but I do not trust her and so keep her on the lead.

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I did however follow the farmer’s advice with our cats. I allowed our puppy to experience first hand what an adult cat is capable of. She acquired a sore nose and the understanding that cats do not like to be chased. Now, when I introduce kittens to her, she is always very submissive and polite (I think she is not entirely sure if they are bigger than her.)

You also need to be aware of the dog’s innate needs. When a dog is young she will go through a teething period, just like a young child. She will need to chew something to stop her jaws aching. If you do not provide something, she will chew your furniture, shoes and bags. Give her something she is allowed to chew on. I find those raw hide chews are good, though you need to keep an eye on them so they don’t choke if they pull bits off.

Puppies have small bladders. They need to be given a place to wee. Do be careful though. I know someone who trained their dog to toilet on newspaper. Then one day, when having breakfast, he went to answer the door. When he returned, his newspaper on the breakfast table had a poop on it! If you train an intelligent dog to do something, they will learn it well. ‘Unlearning’ is pretty difficult.

Big dogs need a fair amount of exercise. If you are not prepared to do this, don’t get a large dog. You do not need to do as much exercise yourself (though it might not be a bad idea in some cases.) You can throw sticks for them to fetch, either up a hill or into water so they have to swim to retrieve it. Most intelligent dogs were bred to be working dogs. They therefore need to ‘work’. No, you don’t need to buy a flock of sheep, but you do need to provide some stimulation. Hide things for them to find, take them on long walks, throw sticks in places that are difficult to reach. You can buy a toy that holds dog biscuits which are awkward for them to get out. A bored dog will find their own amusement and that is generally not good.

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     Have very few rules and then stick to them rigidly. There are some rooms in my house which my dogs are not allowed in. Ever. Not even a foot. If they start to come in, I say no in a ‘barky’ voice (they are dogs, they understand tone better than words.) I do not shut the doors, I do not put up a fence, they just know that they are not allowed in those rooms. Dogs understand territory. My dog gets very cross when my husband goes into those rooms, as she considers herself far above him in the pecking order, but she will merely sit at the door and swear at him, she knows that she cannot come in.

The only time she ever broke this rule was after I came home after surgery and stayed in bed for a few days and she sneaked upstairs to see if I was there. I had never realised before that a dog can tiptoe! She looked so guilty when she was spotted that she practically leaped down the stairs.

Dogs generally have very good hearing. You do not need to shout. I never understand why so many owners yell at their dogs. If you say something and your dog ignores you, it is not because she has not heard! If you say something many times, you are teaching your dog that she does not need to obey you until you have said it at least six times. Say it once. If your dog ignores you, get up and leave. Your dog is much too nosey/bossy to let you leave without her. When she follows you, take her back and tell her again, once. If you call her when you are out and she does not return, then walk away. Do not keep calling. Your dog will not let you get lost, she will come when you start to leave.

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     Do not give ‘mixed messages’. If you feed your dog when you are eating, you cannot then expect her to know that she cannot always help herself from your plate/table. If you are happy sharing food, then fine. If not, then only ever feed your dog in her own bowl in a specific place. As I said before, dogs understand territory, we just need to be consistent. If she even puts her nose up to the table top, tell her “No,” not even ‘nearly’ is allowed.

An intelligent dog will have opinions and there is little we can do to change those. My daughter has a friend who my dog hates. He seems a perfectly nice person but she barks and snarls whenever he visits. I do not know why (but am beginning to be a little suspicious of him myself now.)

My dog also hates pigeons. She also hates the other dog who appears every evening at the dark glass door (she has never really got the hang of reflections.)

As for hitting your dog: don’t. It wont achieve anything good. I do sometimes shout abuse at my dog (I am only human and sometimes I get angry.) She just looks at me with her superior “she has lost it” expression. (As I said before, it is a lot like parenting boys. Dogs cannot roll their eyes.) She certainly does not learn anything useful. I do not however hit my dog. I cannot see how inflicting pain will achieve anything. My vet once told me to smack my Labrador with a rolled up newspaper, saying it would create a loud noise but not hurt her. I did. It did not change her behaviour. Mind you, she is a Labrador. She does not have opinions. I love her dearly but am suspicious that the only thought that ever enters her head is, “Can I eat that?”

Usually I am very grateful for my German Shepherd’s opinions. When we are walking in a secluded place and a man approaches and my dog eyes him suspiciously and growls very quietly so he gives us a lot of space, I am pleased. When travellers come to try and sell me a new driveway and my dog snarls at them so they head back to their van before they have even finished speaking, I am pleased. There are also random people who my dog is always delighted to meet and she dances around them in joy. I am beginning to think they must be very nice people.

My dog is completely sure of her superiority. So when my mother took her for a walk and could not work out how to attach the harness properly, my dog walked patiently next to her, giving her many looks to convey, “You did this wrong so I will walk very close to you in case it falls off.” She gets very angry when wild ducks come to visit our pond and comes to tell me. She is also not too happy when we have bulls in the field next door and spends a lot of time checking they stay on their side of the hedge.

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     If you own a dog with opinions, you will have a faithful friend who is brilliant company and very forgiving of all your mistakes (and they will notice every single one.)

Sometimes my family complain that I love my dog more than I love them. Let’s just hope I never have to choose between them………

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If you enjoyed this, you will love my new book: The Sarcastic Mother’s Holiday Diary.
I have always written a diary on holiday, so last Christmas, I decided to find all my old diaries and blogs, and make a book for my children. However, several other people also asked for a copy, so I have written a public version – it’s available on Amazon and has been described as “The Durrells meet Bill Bryson”!

Why not buy a copy today? I think it will make you laugh.

The US link is here:


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Anne E. Thompson is the author of several novels.

Anne E. Thompson has written several novels and non-fiction books. You can find her work in bookshops and Amazon.
Why not sign up to follow her blog today?

Thank you for reading.