Today I’ll cover one of my favorite subjects, right up there with food, chasing crows and small mammals and napping. Toys. I’ve had a few. And then again, too few to mention.
Sorry, Sinatra just popped into my head, and I couldn’t get him out.
Fluffy was my first toy. Mike and Heather bought Fluffy on the way to picking me up that fateful March day. Fluffy was soft and warm on the ride to my new home. To this day, I appreciate the security Fluffy provides, and I still like sleeping with him once in a while.
Some of my first toys were hand-me-downs from Heidi, the late, great Heidi. These toys are old, and even though Heather washed them, most of them still have her scent on them. I like having them, thought, hoping a little of her infinite wisdom will rub off on me when I put them in my mouth.
Then I get some toys of my own. Rawhides and bully sticks, of course. I like them, but let’s face it: They’re like food. They come and they go. A good toy needs staying power.
Some toys came as gifts. I got Sharkey from Caroline, my financial advisor, and her dachshunds, Pinot and Ada. Despite all of my great new toys, Sharkey remains a favorite. He’s a good fit in my mouth for a robust game of tug.
Then we have Sandy the sandal and Mr. Bear from Heather’s friend Dixie and her Aussies. Diana, who so graciously took care of me last spring while Mike and Heather endured another Mariners loss at the Safe, left me a mint-scented Ropey Jr. that was just right for my little puppy teeth. I’ve outgrown it. Mike and Carol, who I watch SU games with, gave me a blue dog and a bow tie that are now part of my traveling entourage. Bob and Ray, my Juneau buddies, sent down a genuine Alaska boot and a book, Fetch-22, that I’ve been working my way through every night before I fall asleep.
I thought I had a plenty of toys. In fact, Heather even “retired” a few of the early arrivals and some extra tug toys. I didn’t even miss them.
Then we vacationed at our secret mountain getaway. For me, it was Disney World. I had no idea there were that many toys, all in one huge pile. Heather told me they belonged to Tara, the resident Aussie, but I’m not sure; I never saw her play with any of them while we were there.
But I did! Every morning I dived into that pile and started throwing them around. Snuggling with them. Chewing on them. Making them squeal. Then Heather would pick them all up and put them back in the pile, so I could do it again the next day. And the next. That’s what vacations are for, right?
So when we got home, Heather decided I needed more toys. Better toys. Plush toys. And who was I to disagree?
So Heather went on a buying spree. Squeaky and Quacky joined the menagerie. Thanks to Mike, s0 did that stinky hoof. Again, I thought I had more than enough new stuff. But when Heather found my perfect gift in Costco, she couldn’t resist the bargain.
Now I have a new favorite toy, Foxy. He’s long and sturdy, his head squeaks, and he’s got rope handles at each end. He had a tail, but unfortunately I’ve already yanked it off. Mike says he’s going to get it reattached to Foxy, but I cannot fathom any thread that could be strong enough to withstand the grip of this mighty hunter.
So for now, I’d have to say Foxy is my favorite chew toy. Except for Mike’s nose, of course.