Editor's note: Today's blog is written by Gracie as communicated through a series of woofs, yarps, rrrrrs and barks to her companion, Beth.
Mom brought Pig home about 4 months ago. I like to tear up stuff toys. They are squishy and I want to see what's in side. It might be food. But it never is. Still...it could be.
Pig was different. He wasn't squishy except for his head. But his feet made an irritating squeaky noise. Until I broke them. I don't think I hurt Pig. His feet never tore.
Pig is my favorite. I like to cuddle with him almost as much as I do my mom. Yesterday it was cold and damp outside. Mom sat in her favorite recliner. I wanted to cuddle with her, but also wanted to hug Pig. Mom laid Pig across the arm of the chair so I could cuddle with both of them.
At night I sometimes forget to bring Pig to bed with me. That's a hassle 'cause then I have to get off the bed and go look for him. Sometimes I'm so tired that I can't jump on the bed with Pig in my mouth. Mom says I look pathetic...I think that's a good thing, 'cause then she takes Pig and places him on the bed, and then gives me a boost. I try to look pathetic a lot.
Next to living with my mom and my cat, Mungo, Pig is the best thing in my life. I'm glad he didn't have anything squishy inside him. I'd hate to think I might have tore him up for no good reason.
Gracie
5 comments:
I love any dog toy with broken squeakers :)
Gee, your story is like another one I heard where critters of my nature find their "forever" toy. I haven't found my forever toy yet but it's not all my fault. Mom doesn't even buy me stuffed toys anymore 'cuz they only last a couple minutes w/me. How am I supposed to find my forever toy at this rate? Sigh......I even broke the squeaker in Redbone that I got for Christmas. I didn't think it would break but I musta bit it at it's jugular 'cuz little sharp pieces starting falling out of it's hole and I haven't seen it since. I don't know why I do it, I just do it. Chester
Chester: Moms are funny about our toys. They bring them home and seem so happy to give them to us, then at the first sign of tearing or ripping, my mom snatches up the toy and throws it in a black hole she calls a "closet." I'll never figure her out.
-- Gracie
You got that right, Gracie! We have a black hole called a closet too-what's the chances? Don't they understand that our ancient k9 ancestors ripped and tore their toys when they lived in the wild? Maybe it's because the ones from Petsmart cost more. It's time we take a stand! If we can't rip 'em, don't bring 'em home! Whaddya think 'bout that, Gracie?
Closet? You need a human who thinks dirt and hair in the house is just great. We have a pile of stuffed toy carcasses on the back porch. Talk about trophies! And the pelts are as good as they once were with stuffy stuff.
Professor Jiggs
without any help from that useless Steve Cotton
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