we always destroy the thing we love
Or at least Rascal does. Leah got him a stretchy toy cow with squeakers on each end, and for a little while it was his absolute favorite toy; it probably still is, even, but now it's spread all over the living room floor. Loved to death it was: not unlike a childs blanket, only faster. The tail portion is still intact, but the head has been completely destuffed and desqueaked (the squeaker comprehensively chewed up as well), and now looks a little bit disturbing inside-out. The same sort of thing happens to bones, even the hard rubber ones. Luckily the first toy we got him, the one we brought home with him from the shelter, is made of sterner stuff: the squeaker has passed beyond this mortal vale but otherwise the little sheep-camel is in good shape though much loved and tugged-of-war. Tug-of-warred?
It snowed a great deal the other day, and I meant to make a note of that in this blog, but failed to. Since then it's been melting as fast as ever snow can melt, but the overall level has only gone down perhaps 15%. It may be that we won't see the grass again until Spring.