Saturday, April 25, 2009

I walk down the aisle with my cart. Around the corner a gigantic black puppy is learning how to sit. Barely. A sweet fuzzy lhapso pees. My cart skitters around avoids a family with two yappy chihauhas tucked into their basket. Everybody smiles.
I consider the rawhides. Nope, the girls got the runs on those. I consider the hot dog plush toy. Nope, the girls will have the squeaks out of those in under 5 minutes. Kongs? Nope. Lulu is allergic to peanut butter and Honey ate the last one.. Whole.... Ah, the rubber chicken. Bright primary yellow, red feet, goofy cartoon eyes. Perfect.

I purchase the chicken. I take it home. Four golden brown eyes light up. They are ecstatic. Tails thumping. Bodies in tune for the pounce.

Everybody smiles.

For the next 6 months there is bickering over the chicken, there is guarding of the chicken, temper tantrums and jealous rages. There is throwing of the chicken, inside, outside,down the hall,at the walls, on the bed,under the dining table,over the kitchen counters, under the couch.10am, 2 am ,5pm ,9pm . Sitting down, standing up, on the pot,on the pillow. It's the chicken. Who knew this rubber toy would last this long?

It's morning. Lulu has been sleeping with the chicken on our bed. Safely tucked under her paws. Her head resting on his belly.

Everybody smiles.