Blue

For seven weeks Mark, Chandler, Bette, and I stayed at my sister Lisa's house. Lisa treated my dogs like royalty. She spoiled them. Unfortunately Bette did not live to see our new home, but Chandler did, and upon our departure my sister bestowed a bounty of toys upon him. Never in his life has Chandler kept a toy for more than a month without gutting it and tearing it to shreds. He'll keep a toy for weeks and then suddenly go berserk and kill his favorite squeaky toy, leaving the house looking like the set of Dexter. Except, instead of blood and guts, the place is covered in white fluff. This bunch of toys is different. Chandler hasn't pulled one stitch, not one fiber out any of the toys. He loves his Lisa toys. One of the toys my sister gave Chandler was a blue squeaky toy dog. Unfortunately for Chandler, Scout, our new dog, has decided that Blue is her toy. She protects it ferociously, biting whoever dare touches it. One squeak of pain from Blue and Scout is all over the offender. So if you ever come to visit, do not touch Blue, do not step on Blue. Especially if you don't have some good leather between you and Scout.