Coney and the bees. Coney was our wiener dog. Our black and tan wiener dog. He lived to be 15, and Coney was a character from the moment he came as a puppy, to his last few days on the Earth. Coney, when he was a puppy, was the most stubborn character in the world. And he liked the bees.
There were some bees by our mailbox, and Coney knew that some other dogs had peed on the mailbox. And he was bound and determined that he was going to pee there too. I mean, he was, like, six months old. And he went to the mailbox. And he sniffed the flowers, and he sniffed, and sniffed. And he peed on the mailbox, and he bounced along, and he was very happy, and all of a sudden, a couple of bees came and stung him in the snout. His little snout — ‘cause he was little — his little snout just puffed up like a puff pastry, almost, and I had to take him to the vet.
We knew that he’d been stung by a bee, and we didn’t know exactly what the deal was, but we picked him up. Took him to the vet. His vet was one — it was one of the first times that he had been to the vet besides having his shots. He didn’t fight going in. He went in. [Name], who is our dog’s vet to this day, was fresh out of Michigan State Vet School. And she looked at him, and she started laughing, and she said, “I know it’s not funny. I know he’s gotta be having a hard time breathing, and all the rest of this, but he looks hilarious.” And we all agreed that Coney looked absolutely hilarious.
And so she gave him some Benadryl, and she said, “He’s gonna sleep for the next — probably sleep for almost the next 24 hours.” She says, “‘Cause I’m giving him kind of a lot of Benadryl.” She said, “He’s gonna be — I don’t want him to scratch his nose.” And she said, “I don’t wanna put a cone on him ‘cause he’s so little.” She said, “Let’s just see if he just goes to sleep, and if he just sleeps, it’ll — you know, it’ll be fine when he wakes up.”
And so we came home, and I put him to bed in his cage, and — so he wouldn’t just get up and wander around without it, I lo- — closed the door on him. He did not fight with me. He just went right in his cage, and laid down, and went to sleep and slept for, like, the next 12 to 14 hours. We picked him up, took him outside and brought him back in. He didn’t wanna eat. He didn’t wanna do anything, but he was — and his snout went down.
For the rest of his life — and we had him for another 15 years. For the rest of his life, Coney always, always would go down to the mailbox, and look at it. He would get within about four or five feet of it, and he would turn around, and he would come back up the driveway like, “Nope. Uh uh. Not going there. Not gonna have anything to do with the area of this yard.”