My idea of a “present” for my dog is a shoe box with a couple of treats inside, duct-taped shut. This can entertain us both for quite awhile. I rarely buy dog treats or toys for Charlie, though I do feed him my leftovers (and I make sure there are leftovers every time I eat). But while I may be cheap, I’m not above begging for my dog.
I convinced my mom that Charlie really wanted the stuffed buffalo toy at Orvis for Christmas, and being the mom that she is:
Charlie really does love the buffalo – to a degree that surprises me. Charlie has been carrying around the same blanket for 10 years, dragging it up and down stairs, suckling and chewing on it, and generally demonstrating that he should have been named Linus. But recently, he’s come to prefer his buffalo, which is nice. It’s more age-appropriate.
It’s also more portable than his blanket (the remnants, now, of a twin comforter). And since we’ve been traveling a bit, the buffalo has been in the car. I look into my rearview mirror to see Charlie staring out the window with his mouth full of buffalo. Cute.
Charlie loves having his buffalo everywhere he goes. He’s also decided that he loves his buffalo so much he needs to bury it.
Seriously, Charlie? Are you going to go back to Davis Lake next spring and unearth it after a long, lean winter? What, exactly, is your plan here?
Now I have to spend time picking foxtails out of the damn thing because they don’t come out in the wash. And when I try to get it away from him long enough to dust it off, this is what I get:
Maybe I’m better off with shoeboxes, a few dog treats, and duct tape. Lots of duct tape.
My Dog Doesn't Know His Own Name 