K was dispatched to pick up dog food the other day, and she came home with a bonus bag stuffed to the brim with toys. She meekly offered up the receipt, sheepishly smiling and pointing out “they were on sale.”
Of course: irrespective of need, the acquisition of more shreddables should be dictated by the sale rack at the local Petco or Petsmart. And of course, I don’t really care one way or another, it’s just part of the complex dance we engage in over the dogs. I say they don’t need treats – their treat is fresh water and predictable twice-daily offerings of high-quality kibble. She says they need pork rolls, greenies ©, pig ears, and Blue Dog Bakery treats. I say the dozen dog beds we have laying around the house are more than enough. She says so-and-so needs a special one in a special spot where he/she likes to rest. I say they should be happy to have each other for playmates and chewthings, and walls to eat for entertainment. She says they need toys.
So the treat jar runneth over, dogs beds fill up any available floor space, and yesterday evening K gleefully unloaded a bag full of Halloween-themed toys, busily presenting them to me, emphasizing their various features, and lined them up on the table. One by one, dogs walked up and gingerly claimed toys for themselves, pulling them off the table as K had removed tags, stickers and other potential hazards. Their new plaything in tow, they each moved to their respective corners, beds and special spots to explore the squeaking feature, chewiness, and tossability of their new playthings.
Since a picture is worth a thousand words, I concede the point that even if not completely necessary, the toys are well-appreciated by the krewe. They have indiscernible yet distinct preferences in toy selection. Each evening before bed, I dutifully pick up all the toys and place them in the toy basket, and every day the dogs dig through the toy basket, looking for the toy du jour.
And who I am to try to say no to an evening spent thusly: