As I sit blogging to the squeals and squeaks of a bulldog shaped squeaky toy, I smile to myself. I got home, took the girls out for their walk...and what did Heidi find in the park?
The previously mentioned squeaky toy.
I figured, well...the park is our halfway point in the walk. If you can carry that thing all the way back home, you can keep it.
She did.
As it squeaks it's death hymns, Heidi is joyous. She has a certain affection for squeaky toys. She makes as much noise as possible, but with a specific purpose.
Destroy the toy.
Remove the squeaker.
Eat the squeaker.
At least I know that as long as I hear the noise, the toy lives. When the squeaking stops, the toy goes in the garbage...plastic isn't particularly good for doggie intestines.
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