Dish 2

Evening cries turned to late night cries turned to overnight cries turned to very early morning cries turned to all day cries. Maggie's preferred way of dealing with her fallout from anesthesia and surgery was to pace constantly. From bedroom to hallway to dining room to living room to kitchen. To trip outside for any number of attempted potties, all failures as far as this reporter can verify. The learning curve for driving the dish around was loud and slow. Her drugged stupor combined with her natural stupor lead to a number of stalls. "Oh, I'm stuck on the corner of the bed. Can't go forward, left or right. Not smart enough to consider reverse. Oh well, guess I'll stand here and cry. Cry." Roundabout two this afternoon she was back to her normal neurotic self and seems more or less at peace with the collar. It is a razor sharp weapon, though, and all ankles and knees in the house are on high alert. So the first twenty four hours were not the best, but she now accepts being in her cage which after last night's fiasco is a welcome development (whereas last night that only turned into a whining amplifier, somewhere between a chainsaw at arms' length and a 747 taking off on the db meter). Despite our best calming and assertive efforts, I spent more time sleeping on the dog bed than she did (25 minutes for me, 0 for her). Sleep is the top priority tonight for all. It always is. Tonight it really is.