Boo, our 7 year old mutt on Prozac, loves to eviscerate stuffed animals. Jill used to buy him toys at the DAV, just to let him gut them. He did, within minutes of them entering the house, and leaving the living room looking like a big cloud, with stuffing all over the place. He then carries the floppy carcass all over the house, and plays tug-o-war with anyone who will join in. Jill can even get him to play hide and seek with it. It's hilarious.
He hasn't gotten to do it much since The Brat left for school, but he has a new habit: pulling the batting out of my quilt. I have a quilt, not old, that is getting rather shredded from me bundling up in it. It's not a huge deal. Although I love that quilt, it was bought for cheap at Sears, and has now been relegated to covering the man-cave couch, in a desperate attempt to keep the dog hair at bay. Well, Boo has decided that it is his personal mission to remove the batting from inside every square inch of it with his teeth. It's quite something to watch, and he keeps at it, despite our admonitions to leave the darned thing alone.
So Thomas was over the other day, to watch football with Dan. Dan wasn't home yet, so the Heir to the Throne was sitting in the King's chair. Weird noises were coming from the couch, and we looked over to see Boo chewing on a piece of batting that he had stuck in his mouth. "What are you doing," said The Heir. Boo just looked at him and kept trying to get the stuff loose. It wasn't looking good. It was, as a matter of fact, looking more like he might barf on the couch, cause he just could not get it loose. "Not going too good for you, is it, Boo," said Thomas. Boo sat up and stuck his head near Thomas, with a look that said "I'm not too sure about this, dude." Thomas started laughing.
It was at that moment that Boo, formerly so terrified of him that he'd pee on the floor if Thomas even looked at him, gave him the ultimate gift: he dropped the whole slimy mess on Thomas' shirt. I swear he looked proud when he laid back down.