Last weekend Chase and I decided to head to the pet store and get Gus a new stuffy toy. He'd been such a great dog the week before when we went boating, and didn't have to be on his leash the whole time. (This is not normal, he gets distracted very easily and will run off and not listen.)We stood in the store and debated over a few toys, trying to guess which one could live the longest. Chase chose this thick canvas blue dog with a fuzzy raccoon tail. Brought it home and gave it to Gus, who was so excited to have a new toy he forgot that we were even home. (If you know Gus at all, you know that he won't usually let us get in the house before he attacks us and smothers us with kisses, and loves.) He had the toy for maybe 5 minutes and had already ruined one of the squeakers, and not even 10 minutes into having it had ripped a hole in it. The stuffing and squeaker were gone. So if you ever come to our house and see our dog playing with a nasty stuffy body, you know why. Stuffys are easily destroyed at our house. Gus doesn't get them very often anymore. Instead he shreds up junk mail, maybe one day I'll get a picture of the destruction.