When Georgie was born (and before he came to live with us), my coworkers threw me a puppy shower. I believe it was the first in the company's history. They often had bridal showers and baby showers, so they had the routine down pat: a table piled with beautifully-wrapped gifts, a chair next to it for the guest of honor, another table with cake, punch, and dishes of nuts and candy, and a crowd of guests.
One of the gifts Georgie received at this shower was a rubber dachsund toy. He was never very impressed with for reasons he never shared, so it survived his puppyhood. Polly didn't play with it (possibly because it was bigger than she was). Although we never witnessed either dog playing with or carrying the dachsund, over the years it has mysteriously traveled from room to room, which makes me think that the nighttime life of toys as described in The Velveteen Rabbit may not be a fantasy after all.
Last week the puppies discovered the dachsund. They loved it, and I was happy for them (although I soon regretted that it had a squeaker inside) until I discovered Teddy puking slime and bits of red rubber. He, or his siblings, had literally chewed the dachsund a new asshole, so the dachsund went bye-bye. The next day I bought them a nylon chewy bone, and they were delighted with that. They played with it in this order: Georgie, Polly, Berry, Meg, Jinx, and Teddy (Patch would prefer to play with a stick outside). While one dog was chewing the bone, the others would try to steal it. Finally another dog would take over. At the same time, 3 other nylon bones lay neglected on the carpet. They were old, tired, and lacked novelty. Everyone wanted the new bone.
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