return of the giant shirtball

Even though it has only been a week, by tiny chumley's sense of time, it had been ages since his little tummy delighted in the chewy eewy goodness of rawhide.  This I know because mister bright eyes had been unusually frisky yesterday morning, doing everything within his power to redirect my attention from what I was doing, to what I should be doing.  Which was, in his earnest opinion, all about giving him what his tummy said it needed. 

mom, here.  i'll even show u where it is!, his perky little face declared as he skip stepped toward the IKEA beast, being ever so careful to reel me like a fish, freshly hooked at the end of his line. 

Oh yeah, I realized as we reached out destination and he glanced up high, the rawhide bouquet of roses that I didn't use after all for our Valentine's day picture.  "Okay baby dog you can have just one.  But we gotta make it last longer than five minutes."  It was time for the return of the giant shirtball.

A little wet sneeze sprayed my ankles as I shook dust from the tees that had up til now been enjoying the quiet life in a forgotten pile upstairs.  Undeterred by the dust shower, Baxter wiggled with anticipation, proud to see the accomplishments of his past encounters with the tees, now so holey that it was going to take more than a few minutes to knot them in such a way that his rawhide stuffed kong toy didn't just roll out in complete and utter surrender to its fate.

"Ta-da! It's not so giant anymore but here you go my little friend!" 

thanks mom, bye bye!! And off he jauntily scamped with his shirtball in tow, lucky charms and twinkly stars and four leafed clovers glinting in the sunlight as they trailed behind him.