I often have animated conversations with my dog. She’s a very accepting audience, and it clears my head to talk out loud to someone other than myself.
The longer I live and work alone, the more double-sided these solo conversations become. It’s sort of like playing with a marionette. I ask the questions and I provide the answers. It can go something like this:
(Me to my dog) “Didn’t I just buy you a bag of dog food? Where did it all go?”
(My dog to me) “Guess we should get the bigger bag next time, it’ll last longer.”
(Me to her) “Oops, we’re almost out of biscuits, too. You’re going to have to get a job to pay for all of this.”
(Her to me) “At least one of us should be working.”
Stuffed toys are to my dog like chocolate is to some people. When she knows it’s somewhere near, she has to have it. And once it’s in her mouth, she has to destroy it.
Like a typical golden retriever, Tasha first holds a stuffed toy with a “soft mouth.” This breed usually holds their prey tightly, but without too much pressure, so as not to actually pierce it. Sometimes they even drop what’s in their mouth.
Not my dog. No matter how big or small the stuffed toy, it doesn’t take Tasha long to get a good grip and start ripping it apart. She’s like a dog maniac on a short-lived mission.
I’ve tried hiding these fuzzy teddy bears, rabbits, and balls, but she can smell them. I wonder what stuffing must smell like.