No, we don’t have children, but having a puppy, even a one year old puppy, is giving us some of those experiences – like toys scattered all over the house. Foster Pop seems to be the one who is trying to twist his ankle on it all.
Rex really likes his toys, whether it’s a ball he wants you to throw for him, a squeaky toy for making lots of “pay attention to me!” noise, or a stuffie that must be de-stuffed and consumed.
Yep, unlike Tippi who was in it only for the disemboweling, Rex likes to eat his stuffies – not the stuffing, but the furry arms, legs, ears, and squeakers. Luckily he prefers to do this while hanging out on the couch and I’m able to do many a “finger swish” and retrieve the latest piece of orange fur he’s torn off the monster before he can swallow it. I can also attest that I don’t catch every piece. Mr. Bill was one of the first toys he got his muzzle on and I took it away ‘cause I thought it would make an ironic “Oh, no, Mr. Bill” photo in this condition. I don’t know that Rex will get him back – I’m too afraid that one of these days he’ll decide the stuffing is just as good to eat as the fabric.
We get a kick out of the way he’ll bring his chew toy over to where you’re sitting on the couch and chew it while nudging you with it – yea, it’s funny until he gets so close that he gets some of your arm in with the toy; not much, just enough to pinch like heck – ouch!
And those squeaker toys – Man! – from the very first day he could make you crazy with one of them. I need to get a good video of him with one as I just don’t think I can justly describe it in words – there’s a frequency, speed, consistency and duration without variation that is somewhat amazing. Really, the military needs to recruit him for interrogations. Best of all, he can stand in the middle of the room staring at you with the blankest look squeaking a mile a second like a maniac and you don’t see his mouth move – you don’t see any movement of his head at all. Crazy amazing!
BTW: This dog loses more toys under the furniture than most cats! At a certain point he has no toys to play with and I have to get out the “grabbing stick” and go around retrieving balls, bones, and the like from under the furniture – and goodness me, let’s hope he doesn’t lose a Kong under something ‘cause there is no consoling him until you get up and retrieve it.
In the end, I’ve found it to be quite endearing when I realized that over the course of a chilly Saturday morning, as we cuddled up together on the couch, he had brought all of his toys from the other room, deposited them on the couch and then fell asleep on them.