Saturday, November 24, 2012

Just not worth it...

Once upon a time, there was a little green plastic ball from Wally World that was kept in a cupboard out of reach of the dog. Then, one day (hint: today) I gave it to said dog to play with. Needless to say, he had torn a gash in it after a minute and a half of play. But it got my mind going. We don't let him play with tennis balls unless we're playing at the park because he focuses so much energy on them that they're torn to shreds in minutes. So maybe, I thought, if we got one big enough he couldn't pick it up, he could enjoy playing with it and not end up popping it quite so quick.

So I when I went to Walmart again to pick up some miscellaneous paraphernalia, a soccer ball was also on the list. But, frugal mind zeroed in on the cheapest one there, and somehow reasoned that it would be good enough for the cause.

Hardly. It wasn't two minutes before Tanner and I (sitting in the kitchen eating dinner) heard the tell-tale pip-fshhhhhhh from the other room signifying the death of Charlie's latest toy. Five minutes after that, he had a hole the size of a fist chewed in it. No respect for the deceased, apparently. Balls are just not worth buying for him.

I don't feel all that bad for him though, as he has a slew of other toys of a much more indestructible nature hanging around the house. The most recent of these is his tire...made of sturdy rubber, and hollow, which invites more thoughts of peanut butter...

Anyway, he adores it--runs around with it flipped up over his nose, wagging his tail like mad, almost begging us to chuckle at him. Today (I wish I had gotten a video of this) he managed to get his foot through the center of it right before he picked it up, and he couldn't figure out for the life of him how it got in there or how to get it back out! And of course, dropping the precious thing was unthinkable, so he got to hop around on three legs for a while trying to figure himself out. I love this dog.

By the way, it turns out his tummy doesn't handle Thanksgiving leftovers well, as evidenced by the pile of them I found half-digested on our living room floor yesterday morning. Black Friday indeed. Sure did blacken my mood for a while. His queasy state was good for something though...he apparently figured out that it was the fact that he bolted all that food that made him sick, and since then, he's actually been eating his meals one bite at a time! He even chews it now. I think this is called a silver lining.

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