Hero got a new toy yesterday. He can't have any toys that have stuffing or are easily ripped apart. This is because his favorite game is "murder." Seriously, he's a maniac. I have to get him toys made for labradors and mastiffs. He weighs less than some cats, assuming that there are cats that weigh more than 25 pounds.
Small dogs like Hero can't play with tennis balls or frisbees too easily. They're pretty much expected to play with stuffed animals. There are all these great toys like a stuffed iPhone (sorry, iBone), or a Mr. Hanky (sorry again, Mr. Poops), you know, toys you wouldn't mind having strewn across your house. But NO. Since I don't want my darling doggie to die of a belly full of fluff, I have to get him weasels.
What is a weasel, you ask?
They get pretty disgusting, these weasels. That one in the picture? That's brand new. It hasn't yet been tainted by dog saliva, been dragged across the floor, or been murdered countless times. And even in mint condition, it still looks pretty nasty. It's only downhill from there.
But you guys, Hero loves weasels. And I love Hero. So weasels he shall have.
He was due for a fresh victim, and my mom happened to find some on sale (oh yeah, they cost like, $10 each. It doesn't even have stuffing!). Hero got a brand new "duck" weasel, which he immediately massacred while I snuck the old weasel into the trash. He's so enamored with this new toy, it's really pretty cute. He takes it everywhere, and when he's not trying to tear it to shreds he's lovingly cuddling it while he sleeps. It seems like every time I turn around there's Hero canoodling with his latest victim.
Then today I'm sitting in the living room watching Pretty Little Liars, and I turn around to see that Hero has made himself a little love nest.