You think you have dogs all figured out.
You think this is going to be about food.
You are wrong.
All that stuff is, admittedly, great. But I have more on my mind.
I will tell you today about my toys.
(I typed everything on this frustratingly tiny keyboard, so take it seriously!)
Like an aged filet of beef, a good rope doesn't just happen over night. I put a lot of effort into getting My Rope into this shape. Note the jaunty angle at which the gnawed strands stand with respect to the main body. I wish you could smell across the Internet because a photo fails to capture three quarters of the Rope experience.
Someone thought it would be funny to replace the fine rope I usually chew with this...this...abomination. They blithely tossed it into my toy pile and didn't even bother to slobber on it! I don't blame The Imposter for wanting to be My Rope, but there is simply no substitute for perfection.
The Swiss army knife of toys.
Multi-textured rope. Not one, not two but three, count them, three! knots. Fun fur. Known to fly when feeling playful.
I love you, Spitty.
Not really chocolate, but chocolate is the closest thing humans have to compare with the succulent flavor found in this doughnut of delight.
Thirston Towel III
Only plays after a bath or on particularly rainy days. Thirston is a tad flat but doesn't mind getting wet and muddy and is happy to indulge me when I pretend to be a charging bull. ¡Olé!
Not a Toy!
You know the scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark when Indiana Jones nearly gets flattened by the gargantuan boulder? This behemoth makes that look like a pebble. What am I supposed to do with this, climb it? Carve it into a horse? It's not chewy, it doesn't squeak, it could put someone's eye out!
Give it to the cat.
I hope you've learned something today. Perhaps next time I will share with you the subtleties of requesting between meal treats, but I feel a nap coming on, so I bid you adieu.