Slasher Flicks!

Day two and I've been all alone.
Has it been productive - has it heck!

The Little Miss went to a gymnastics day so I had six hours to myself. Six hours during which time I seemed to manage to be productive doing nothing particularly productive.

I did buy new pillows, how's that for the wow factor?
I also bought a new toy for Pippin.
She, being a lab, is obsessed with having something soft in her mouth.

When someone comes to the door, it's...

'where's ma toy? Er, Ugh? No toy! Oh there's the teatowel, that'll do'

When someone gets up from their seat, it's...

'where's ma toy? Er, Ugh? No toy! Oh, there's a seat cushion, that'll do.'

When we come down in the morning, it's...

'where's ma toy? Er, Ugh? No toy! Oh, there's a sock/slipper/rug/piece of garbage....that'll do'

So, tired of finding odd socks removed from the clean washing basket or finding my oven gloves on the floor with fresh dog slobber on them, I have bought her a new toy.

BUT, wait for it, this toy has to be one of a special brand of toy.
Oh yes, we Brits are so darned stupid about our pets that it's not just an old teddy bear or a cheap piece of flammable stuffed nylon that we got from the market, Oh no!

See, if I bought any of that it wouldn't survive the day.

No, for all her cute, somewhat stupid, gorgeous, slobbery demeanor, she also a toy terminator.
She initially takes the toy and bounds up and down in, what we take to be, excitement.
She runs around with said toy in her mouth.
She lies down, rolls over, licks it.
She dangles it in front of Meggie.
She takes it into the garden, brings it back from the garden, drags it through the water bowl, picks up a heap of dirt on the now wet end, pushes it into one of our laps.
She lies down and sleeps with it...aw so sweet!
But, don't be fooled.

Within the hour the toy is being ripped limb from limb. It is being shred all over the floor. The plastic squeaker has been found and tossed carelessly to the side. There is now a scene of gruesome toy gore and destruction all over the kitchen. There are innards under the table, on the chairs, there are bits of toy guts floating in the once clean water bowl. It is a scene from CSI.
Finally, the panting stops, she lies down next to her handiwork. The shell of the once fully stuffed animal is now limp and lifeless next to her, a gash from neck to stomach splaying the final contents around.
The deed is done!

It has taken us nearly two years to give up on this. We did continue to forgive her for her homicidal nature. She was soon out on parole and given another doomed toy to carry around in her mouth as a replacement for the bedroom slipper she had sneaked from one of our beds.

So now she gets ROADKILL!

You can buy roadkill toys as we have aptly named them.
These toys are soft and cuddly, only they have no squeaker, they have no soft and fluffy innards, they are just an imitation roadkill. Flat, already lifeless, glassy eyes and no voice. Perfect for my killer dog!

Those eyes don't fool anyone!