Why the cone? Why? Others call it the cone of shame, some call it the cone of protection. I am forced to wear this device because of a spot I've been excessively scratching yet...I have other plans for...the cone.
Here I sit, cone around my neck waiting patiently for the little human to throw bits of food from the chair that is high. I've trained her well and we work together in the conspiracy to feed.
At times she even aims partially eaten bits of egg or cracker in my direction. To the big humans she appears to be bored with her food but I know it is merely a ploy, a scheme that my little owner and I have devised to fool them.
I bide my time knowing that in mere moments those delectable morsels will be mine.
My plan is to rush in when they stand from the table and slam my coned head down around the nutritious crumbs thus blocking all others from entering my eating space...
Cone of shame? HA! It is the CONE OF CONTROL! All the food will be mine I say...MINE!
I am preparing, I am salivating, my gaze fixed, I am CONE DOG!