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ther than a few accidents – at least I think they were accidents – in the house, Penny has been pretty good the past few weeks.  And I have to admit I’ve been pretty lucky in that she’s not chewed up anything major.  Sometimes, if you’re a piece of furniture, or a shoe, it’s hard to escape a teething puppy.

I finally got Penny to stop chewing on the carpet runner in the hallway.  She long ago lost interest in the wooden stool under my desk, and she hasn’t touched a pair of shoe laces in forever.

Instead, she’s had a blast with her toys – near a half dozen of different kinds of balls, and old sock, three or four toy bones.  And Frenchie is still around.  She’s succeeded in ripping his beret off, and shredding it to the point that it looks like a really cheap Halloween toupee.  She found a stick not long ago that keeps her busy when she tires of her store-bought toys.  And then, there’s her newest toy – a heavy rubber ball on a twisted rope that she wrangles with.  Yep, she’s been really good.

Until today.  It’s three days before Christmas, and Penny is testing Santa’s benevolent nature.

I was sitting here at the desk when I realized I was hearing a sound that didn’t sound right.  I turned around and Penny had pulled her toy basket out of the corner and was chewing on one of the handles.  She knew instantly she had been caught, and looked up at me as if she had no idea she was doing anything wrong.  I scolded her and put her toy basket back in the corner where it belonged.  I then tossed a ball to show her what she is supposed to play with.

I’ll be damned less than 15 minutes later, she had pulled the basket out into the middle of the room and wasDsc01488 working on one of the handles again!  When I spun around and saw what she was doing, she must have figured the innocent look would get her no where this time.  She jumped and ran, dove into her bed and flopped down.  She looked at me as if to say she was sorry.   I scolded her, but not as firmly as the first time, as it appeared that she knew she did wrong.   I put the basket back in the corner.

Later that evening, Penny had been horsing around with her new toy – the rubber ball on the twisted rope.  I was playing a word game on the computer, and sitting here quietly laughing while listening to her jump around, sling the toy all around, and run up and down the hall.  But then, wrapped up as I had gotten in my game, I didn’t notice right away that things had gotten very quiet.  I glanced down at her bed – it was empty.   I looked behind me and penny was up on the sofa, laying on the hoodie I had left there earlier, chewing on the cord to the hood!  I stood up, and headed toward her, asking on the way, “what are you doing?”  Penny raised up and crossed her paws, as if she had been laying there all along just relaxing.  Yeah.   I took the hoodie and hung it up.

Penny resumed romping with her new toy.  I went back to playing my game.  Later, I heard a sound that I knew was not a good one.  I turned around to find that Penny had again pulled her toy basket out into the middle of the floor and was gnawing on one of the handles.  When she realized she was busted, she took off like a shot, but instead of flying to her bed like she normally does when she knows she’s wrong, she ran into the bathroom.

After about three seconds, she came to the bathroom door and stuck her head out, looking around the edge of the door at me.  It was all I could do to keep from laughing.  I knew if I opened my mouth to chastise her, I’d bust up.

I shook my head, got up and put the basket back in the corner where it belongs, then sat back down at my desk.  Penny came out of the bathroom and ran to me.  She stood up with her paws on my knee and looked at me as if she was saying she was sorry.

I hope Santa takes puppyhood into consideration when determining what’s “good.”

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The toys I buy for Penny get little attention: one bone she is not overly fond of, and she only acts like she wants to play with the old toy I pulled out that belonged to my last furry child.  Problem is, she doesn’t care much for toys that squeak – and both of them do.  She has two Nyla-Bones she plays with – usually when she has tired of everything else. Go figure – a puppy that doesn’t like squeaky toys.  So I‘ve been trying to find her toys she will like, but don‘t squeak.

Meanwhile, she’s chewed the cord to my laptop chill pad, of course the zipper on her carrier, occasionally I catch her gnawing on the wooden step stool that’s under my desk, she pulls at the plush surface of her bed, sneaks around quiety to find any shoe that has laces so she can chew the aglets off, pulls the arm covers off the sofa, tries to excersize her jaw muscles on something on the underside of my deskchair (haven’t figure out what yet), nibbles on the CD cases on the bookshelf, pulls the spanish moss out of a potted artificial plant and flings it all about, she has chewed up one handle to the basket I toss her junk in at the end of the day, and she uses my fingers as teething rings.

While she doesn’t seem to like anything that squeaks, she does like things that jingle, rattle, crinkle or rustle.  Oh, and anything she can rip up, shred or tear apart.  Problem is, most of the toys that jingle, rattle, crinkle or rustle are for cats – like the ball I recently bought. It has something in it that makes a muffled jingley-rattling sound.  It had a big blue, down feather on it, but I cut that off before giving the ball to Penny – I knew a feather and a shark-toothed little maniac would not go well together.  I would have been cleaning up after the fallout for days!canvasball

Being a cat toy, it’s not quite as sturdy as a dog toy would be.  I figured it would be just a matter of time before that little blue-and-white canvas-covered sphere would look like someone tried to cram it through a paper shredder. Surprisingly, the ball has lasted, and it still rattles. The canvas….ehhhh, it didn’t fare so well.

tolettepaperollSo it seems that not only does she apparently dislike toys that squeak, but she prefers things she can literally destroy! Her favourite non-toy toy, is the empty cardboard toilet paper tube. Her second best non-toy toy – sticks, despite the fact that one tried to beat her up not long ago.

Check out the determined look in her eye… LOL.


Inamed him “Frenchie.”  Penny ignored him.   I was beginning to think this was more wasted money.   One toy she destroyed in less than 12 hours.  This one, it seemed, she wanted nothing to do with.

The toy has some type of cellophane inside that makes a crunching noise.  Until Penny discovered this noise, she really had no interest in this stuffed slice of french toast – she was too busy tearing up the cloth bone that is now just one among the many old, unwanted and broken toys in that big toy chest in the sky.

When the crunchy noise finally attracted her attention, she would pounce on Frenchie and grab him, give him a good shake, then take off running through the house with him.  Upon arriving in the room from which she took off, she would let Frenchie fly.  Then pounce on him again where ever he happened to land.  I was beginning to think I should start praying for Frenchie.

She had obviously exhausted herself running back and forth and throwing Frenchie all around, but like a child, she wasn’t ready to stop playing all together.  She flopped down, and in shoving her nose into the soft toy a few times, she realized that Frenchie was wearing a hat and a little red bow tie.

Within a couple hours, Penny had chewed the bow off the tie.  Next day, she had worked her way through the knot in the tie, and now the ends frenchie2flapped freely about.   Later in the day, I saw something black on the sofa – it was that little decorative tab on the top of the beret that Frenchie wears – does anyone know what that little thing is called??  And how did she haul Frenchie, who is nearly half her size, up on the sofa?!

I felt sorry for poor little Frenchie, and I tied the two ends of his tie together to simulate another bow.  Penny chewed through that knot too.  A few days later, I tied the tie again.  This time I had to pull the ends together tight, cinching Frenchie’s midsection (does a slice of toast have a “midsection?”), just to have enough of the tie to work with.

Frenchie has been through a lot in the past week.  But he’s tougher than he looks, though, and has lasted way longer than I ever imagined considering the swiftness with which Penny dispatched that little cloth bone…


Went out today and bought Penny some new toys.  All she had since getting her a few days ago was a stuffed jackalope almost as big as BarksBones1her, and an old sock that I tied a couple of knots in so we could play tug-o’-war.   This plush, squeaky bone was one of the new toys I bought.  Cute, isn’t it?  Yeah.  Uh-huh.  It was.

I had left her here with a beef bone – I figured that would keep her busy, and she wouldn’t be so aware of the fact that I was gone.   When I got back, she was still enjoying her bone too much to be interested in what I’d bought for her, but curiosity got the best of her and she finally decided to investigate the new items.  She set into this fabric bone like a rabies-crazed coyote.

Pulled the faux fur off the back, then tore a hole in the back and proceeded to pull the stuffing out.   I really started to wonder if there was something wrong with my new little puppy…like, perhaps she was possessed or something!

BarksBones3After the “newness” wore off, she dropped the little bone like a hot potato and flopped into her bed.   I picked up the bits of  fur and threads and fluff, and removed the squeaker so she wouldn’t end up pulling that out too and choking on it.   When I looked over at her, she sorta looked remorseful for what she had done.

A few hours later, she decided she hadn’t done enough damage to the helpless little fabric bone, and finished it off.  I didn’t think there could possibly be much left inside the bone – but there was.   This time, she had stuffing spread across both cushions of the sofa, and all over the carpet.   The dead bone lay behind the door, belly up.   And this time, she didn’t even have the decency to at least pretend to be ashamed.

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