I have been probed.
I was brought to a laboratory by my humans where I was examined, fondled, and adored by many. I was cleverly sedated, then dissected and studied to reveal all my special Clifford parts:
I have been placed in an inhibiting contraption / shield. It both prevents me from licking my belly wounds, and protects me from having my head inside Gromit's mouth.
I have been given much attention for it, with increases seen both in hugs and special favours.
Yoda of the cone am I. Wise with this cone, am I. The cone look good, I make, and proud, I feel proud.
Sure, it has it's downfalls. I am able to hear the snickers of others circling around in the acoustics of my cone, and
finding my food is difficult.
But I've come to feel quite empowered by my cone, as it helps me absorb the written word.
This all began shortly after I was dusted by sugar in the kitchen one evening.
Which led to an invasion of cupcakes of which I was forbidden to interrogate.
I flew secretly to my secret location.
Where I reported the cupcake conspiracy while updating Facebook.
I thought no one would suspect me (I have such innocent eyes), but my cold, wet nose is often the subject of mistrust. It must have been what exposed me.
Don't think this is slowing me down. I defy anyone who thinks I should "not participate in running or jumping." I shall carry on my time in the cone, and continue to report on the ongoing invasion of cupcake troops.