Zena is a warrior, a destroyer. Of toys.
She’s never met a dog toy she couldn’t kill in 15 minutes or less. Cheap ones take five minutes – from pristine with the tag just pulled off, to a hollow, gutless shell with a dead squeaker and white fluffy toy guts strewn all over the house. It’s mayhem on a daily basis, perpetuated by us because there is always a new toy in the closet when an old one dies. Confession: we enable her toy-a-day habit. We’re not bankrupt because most of the toys are bought in bulk online or at dollar and discount stores.
For the record, she also loves socks (especially retired ones with squeakers tied in a knot inside, but really any socks will do), and any form of paper but particularly used napkins and Kleenex.
Zena was taught her craft of mayhem by Beggs, the original toy hoarder and killer, during the first three years of Zena’s life which were also the last three years of Beggs’.
The problem then was that all the toys in the world belonged to Beggs, in the world according to Beggs. The word “share” was not in her vocabulary.
Dogs know this already, but Zena was reminded in those years that you have to seize every opportunity and enjoy the time you have with it – both the ones you’re gifted and the ones you have to steal from your big sister.
We love our middle child Zee-Zee and her endless capacity for love and play that reminds us when opportunities for love or play appear, grab em’. Give em’ a good shake, and then dig in.