As a reminder, I am looking for Amazon reviews for my book, Seven Dogs.  I really think you will like the book.  Also, I enjoy writing this blog, but would love to hear what y’all like to read.  I can pretend to be an expert on so many things. 

Alright, let’s get to it.  You give names to your dogs’ toys.  Oh yes, you do.

The other day I was basking in my self-actualized fantasy world thinking about how pathetic people were for naming dog toys.  Then I looked at Courage and told her to, “grab Loopy and go outside.”  Becoming self-aware hurts like hell.  Twenty years on university faculty and a former college basketball coach and I name dog toys: Loopy, Blue, Bone, Kong, and Knobby.  Brilliant names, don’t you think?  Oh, and Blue is actually purple and red.  But that wasn’t all, they have pronouns!

These five toys are left over from the original seven dogs.  They are in really good shape, are safe for big dogs, and have lived in a pile near the couch since L’acy passed away.  I took a walk down the PetSmart toy aisle before Courage arrived but didn’t see anything that I thought added to the current collection.  So, Courage was introduced to full size toys at an early age.  It was awesome to watch her lug these rather large toys around.  She would almost tip forward lifting Kong and Bone.  Now, at four months, she handles them with ease.

At first, the toys lived in the house.  They were perfect for redirecting Courage when she just had to chew on something and my hands, wrists, and forearms were bled out.  One day, about a month ago, Courage took Knobby outside with her.  She pranced through the back door like a trained Lipizzaner; her head held high with the toy firmly in her grasp.  Such pride.  All of these toys are fine for outside, so I let it happen.

After a few days, all of the toys were outside and I had nothing to correct inappropriate chewing.  So, I brought a couple of them back inside.  At some point, Courage noticed and commenced to bang on the back door with some urgency.  When the door opened, she ran into the house, found the misplaced toy, and raced it back outside. In counter to Courage’s industry, every time I ran out of toys in the house, I would go back outside and reacquire some.  Rinse, repeat.  I always struggle to get the door open wide enough before she knifes through with the toy sideways in her mouth, so this often wrenches the toy from her grip.  Undeterred, she wheels around and scoops the toy up before heading full speed out to the back lawn.  This odd game of Fetch continues to this day, but I struggle to see which of us is the dog.

As I look around me, I don’t see any toys.  Sigh, I need to collect some again.