Every Seven Dog Years...
There's this particular day every 7 dog years that happens in my humans' house -- don't know why it's every 7 dog years, but whatever -- and they have all these sparkly things hanging around that I can't touch, and all these sweet treats they cook and eat that I can't touch, and all these boxes of stuff wrapped in paper that I can't touch. It's really kind of a lame day because all the great things that entertain me, I can't touch, so I end up getting yelled at a lot. But it's still kinda fun.This time, they all sat down and first thing they did was open a plastic container and inside were all these squeaky toys that looked like food, and they were for ME! FINALLY!
Here we have a baked potato that squeaks, which doesn't taste like a baked potato, but I'll still eat it. The ear of corn is nearby, but for some reason, the baked potato is my favorite.
Here one of my humans is trying to take my ear of corn. Nope, not gonna happen.
My corn.
On the couch, I settle down for a good time with my pretend meal: turkey, rope broccoli, roll, potato and corn, but they're always egging me on.
The whole pretend meal came on a plate that was a frisbee, and frisbees can't stand up to my level of play. This is the introduction...
This is one of the three meager tosses...
And, this is the result of me catching a frisbee, which punctures immediately and makes my gums bleed, so I don't do frisbees very often. They are too wimpy for me.
While the rest of the humans tore paper off of boxes and made a big mess, I chewed on my pretend meal.
Within about 30 minutes, I'd pretty much shredded most of my pretend food. Toys don't last long in my care -- it's like they just give up and fall apart. It's okay. I'll get more in 7 dog years, I'm sure.
posted by Doggie Extraordinaire's Mom at
11:54 AM
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