Living with Buddy is sometimes like living in the horse head bed scene in the movie The Godfather. You know, when the movie producer wakes to find the head of his prized horse in his bloodied bed.
Yeah, like that.
One look around our apartment is like the set from a bad horror movie. Little chewed and maimed stuffed critters are strewn on the floor. They are in a number of stages of ruin, missing ears, tails; their noses and faces are demolished.
Lured by clever pet toy marketers, I try to purchase durable toys. “Tuff stuff! Guaranteed to last! Dura-tough!” the labels read. Hopeful, I purchase one of these supposed long lasting toys and in a matter of MINUTES Buddy will have chewed off one of the poor thing’s extremities.
One would think an adorable, sixteen pound flutternut of a pooch would not be capable of such sadistic behavior, but he apparently has a darker side.
I am not EVEN going to tell you about the underpants.