As the dogs aged, they seemed to become disinterested in their toys. Abby was the only dog that still pulled plush animals from the toy box and surrounded herself with the treasures on her dog bed. That is, until the Englishman realized that Charlie still enjoyed toys. He just was too short to reach them and he wasn't up to jumping into the box like he used to do.
For now, the box is on its side and the house is once again littered with toys of all sorts: the kind that give me a heart attack each time I accidentally step on the squeaker, the kind that hurt when I'm not wearing shoes and the kind that make me smile when I realize that an old dog can still find joy in childish things.
Charlie, like many dogs, has a single goal when it comes to dog toys: seek and destroy. Charlie’s needle-like nose probes the seams of a stuffed toy, searching for the tiny stitches hidden beneath the fur. His razor sharp teeth delicately pull at the threads like a musician expertly plucking the strings of a harp. A very small and precise hole appears and Charlie carefully removes the stuffing in order to retrieve the prize within: the plastic squeaker! Watching his determination, I remember, as a child, opening the Cracker Jack box from the bottom in order to possess the prize inside, typically a lick and stick tattoo.
Charlie also has a fondness for tennis balls. He chases the yellow ball when thrown or kicked until he tires of the game of “fetch but don’t bring back”. I usually run out of energy before he does. His affection for tennis balls does not end there. Charlie will often hold a ball between his front paws and peel away the fuzzy yellow covering like an orange. It is not unusual to have bits of yellow stuck to the carpet, furniture and even my clothing.
It was purely by accident that the indestructible toy was discovered. I’m not even sure when it appeared in the plastic toy box shaped like a bone, but it has become Charlie’s greatest challenge to date. It is a blue racquetball
. The kind that you dodge when trapped in a treacherous indoor court while your father yells at you to stop cowering in the furthest corner. The powerful blue ball that you deflect with your racquet weapon, saving yourself from potential concussions and broken fingernails. The ball that comes in a set of three in a vacuumed-packed plastic tube at a Wal-Mart bargain price.
The ball that Charlie cannot puncture, peel, rip or chew. The ball that occupies him for endless hours while he tries to puncture, peel, rip and chew. The indestructible, economical and highly recommended (as long as you don’t throw it at me) toy.
A house full of dogs, so it was a clever idea to have a Christmas tree loaded with all sorts of plush toys. Cute, Santa-hat wearing soft and cuddly puppies lined the sofa waiting for their rightful place on the tree. Boughs laden with real candy canes and colored lights highlighted all of the temptations like a neon sign in a store window, beckoning shoppers to browse the selections. And Chase was in a shopping kind of mood. He restrained his canine urges for a few days before I caught him carefully plucking a toy from the tree. As he attempted his getaway, I ordered him to "drop it" and he was quick to obey. I retrieved the pilfered toy just in time to spy Chase picking several more from the forbidden tree. He was in a generous mood and had chosen several ornaments for the other dogs in the house. And just to ensure that this was the gift that kept on giving, he dutifully taught his canine companions how to select their own ornament. The deviant behavior extended far beyond the Christmas tree. I caught dogs attempting to pull the singing musical reindeer from an end table. One over sized stocking hung by the mantle with care had newly acquired teeth marks in the toe and the wiener dog had stockpiled miniature Christmas stockings that he found tucked away neatly within the branches of the tree. Christmas canine chaos ruled the house for several days before the dogs finally began to understand the "new" annual rules and ceased their attempts to strip the tree bare. While the stuffed-animal themed Christmas tree was not my idea, I can't say that my Edgar Allan Poe themed Christmas tree on the sun porch was any better with its jet black bird glaring down from its lofty perch at my bird dog. "And quoth the raven, Nevermore".
Chase loves toys. He is especially fond of colorful stuffed animals with a squeaker inside and believes that it is his mission in life to frantically dig and pull all stuffing out in order to remove and destroy the squeaker. I have previously mentioned my financial support of the pet stores and they have a wide selection of dog toys. I feel they are also clever by allowing owners to bring their dogs into the store. Chase enjoys shopping for toys and looks adorable carrying one in his mouth, tail happily wagging, to the cash register. I have spent more money simply because my dog looks cute doing something. As a puppy, he enjoyed the “Kong” so long as I filled it with peanut butter and would be entertained for the duration of the creamy snack inside. He also enjoyed the heels of my shoes, headphone cords and antique oriental rugs so it was critical to keep the Kong filled with peanut butter. Chase was not very impressed with those dog toys that have no fluff or squeakers inside. To him it was similar to having a non-alcoholic beer…a complete waste of time, effort and money.
The toys that I discovered lasted the longest and were most treasured by Chase were regular children’s stuffed animals. I find them at the Goodwill and other thrift stores for under a dollar apiece and have also discovered them at garage sales. At a recent garage sale, there was a bin filled to capacity with plush bunnies. As my talkative mother chatted up the owner of the bunny bin, she discovered that the woman proudly collected all things rabbit and her husband was forcing her to downsize her collection. I selected a bunny from the bin, handed the woman a dollar, and dragged my mother down the driveway before she could reveal my intentions to present the bunny to my dog for his chewing pleasure. Because of the woman’s passion for bunnies, I didn’t have the heart to tell her the fate of the toy and hissed under my breath at my mother to stop talking.
My experience with purchasing second hand stuffed animals has proven to me that they last longer than the pet store toys, they are easier on your wallet and less likely to be completely destroyed in search of the evil squeaker. I am always careful to squeeze the stuffed animal like a package of Charmin toilet paper to make sure there are no small pellets or beans in the bottom. I’m not sure if they are toxic to dogs but I do know that Chase has pulled them out on a penguin given to him by my sister and, once strewn across the floor, are very hard to clean.
A few toys purchased have been for my own amusement. I presented Chase with a gigantic plush flower with a large stem that could be bent and twisted. He would gleefully parade around the house with it firmly clutched in his teeth and run full speed ahead at the doorways simply to get stuck as the flower was too big to fit. Chase would back into the doorway, drop the flower and then grip the end to drag it lengthways into the next room. He enjoyed an Easter Bunny that sang an old “Easter Bonnet” song when pressed in the center of its belly. Chase would work his teeth around the center until the song would play, jump back and bark along. He currently covets my father’s Walter the Farting Dog toy which is placed out of reach above my dad’s computer.
There are so many joys to having a dog as part of your life, but to me, there is nothing better than watching my English setter race manically around with a favorite toy in his mouth shaking his head back and forth, trying to tempt anyone to take the evenly coated, drool covered, unrecognizable, tattered and torn, bargain bunny-bin animal from his grip.
