Gambit is a princess. We tell him that all the time – whether it’s because he’s mopey because it’s under 70 degrees, throwing a fit over the blinds being closed, refusing to come inside when it rains, crying incessantly as I attempt to work from home, or due to his other prissy pretty pretty princess behaviors.
Recently, Gambit decided he wasn’t getting enough attention or adventuring. In the last week, he’s been on walks, dog park trips, hunted grasshoppers in the back yard, gotten a brand new custom made toy box, and gone on his second real hike – more on those last two soon!
Regardless, that amount of adventuring was not enough for him compared to how he was used to having life revolve around him in the South. Maybe the problem was that we took him on a flat section of trail because I needed to work on our hike (yup, that’s a thing) and he really wanted to go to the section of the Appalachian trail that runs through the park. Or maybe it was that he found a frog and didn’t get to kiss it.
In a desperate move for attention, Gambit wouldn’t stop licking and itching his foot in the wee hours of the morning yesterday.
He wasn’t satisfied until it was raw and red and his momma was wide awake from saying “leave it” so often. The routine of wiping his paws with a washcloth, which worked for a couple minor licking incidents, wasn’t enough either. Washing his feet off in a couple inches of water in the tub let him show a little more of his princess side, but he still wasn’t satisfied.
Wanting to solve this before it became really bad and more worthy of the traditional mopey hound faces frequently worn by Nellie, Gambit decided it was time for us to empty our wallets at the vet’s office.
Unfortunately for him, they decided it was time for pills and a cone of shame – I mean, an Elizabethan collar fit for a regal princess.
Gambit’s usual ways as a way-too-brilliant Master of Trickery failed him. He’s had two lapses in intelligence in his life. One was a couple days ago when he just could not push the cracked bedroom door open and sat in the hallway crying for ages. The culprit? His water bowl was right in the opening of the door, and he didn’t realize that if he opened the door the rest of the way, he could avoid it. Our little princess didn’t want to jump or get his feet wet.
The other was when he put on his
cone of shame regal Elizabethan collar. I spent all afternoon at work picturing in my head what was relayed to me and poorly attempting to stifle my laughter in the hallways.
Gambit, who loves to run up and down the stairs, was sitting at the bottom of the steps crying incessantly because he was convinced he could not go up the stairs in his cone. I figured it was either because he knew he was wider than normal but didn’t know just how wide, or because he was having difficulty seeing the stairs through the collar.
The actual problem? His hound nose, as usual. On the stairs, he carries his head low like he’s on a scent. As a result, the collar gets stuck on each step and he just can’t.
Hopefully he’ll figure out the stairs soon. For now, he might just keep getting stuck with every step he takes.