All The World Is A.....

.......Lulu chew toy.

Why, yes. You are correct, Julia. And your point is?

At least, that's what Lulu thinks. And for good reason; her toys are scattered from one end of this house to the other.

Trust me. They don't end here....they're everywhere. 

Maggie has grown far too sophisticated for such puppy-ish things. Except for treats. She's never too grown-up for treats.

Fetch a BALL? Surely you jest. 

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE...

However, Lulu lives for toys, and thinks that everything in our house is her toy. This is all my fault, and I know it. When Lulu was scampering out of my closet with her mouth full of my pink fluffy slipper, I should have snagged her right then and there. But she was so cuuuute....she was so little and the slipper so big....and she woo woo-ed me with her mouth full. And the pathetic thing is that it was equally cute when she came back for the OTHER SLIPPER. Dang. She gets away with murder when she does cute doggy stuff and she knows it.

Which is why I know that it's not Lulu's fault that she felt completely comfortable stealing these bunny ears headband out of the "Easter Decoration" box.

I don't know what is worse -- the fact that she does it, or the fact that I tolerate her kleptomaniac tendencies. Let's have another look at Lulu's toy stash, shall we?

See the Happy Feet penguin? And the Christmas duck with the Pepsi logo? Both items were Christmas gifts for my girls this year. However. It took Lulu about two minutes to stuff her nose into their gift bags and make off with the plushies, slobbering them just enough to make the girls wrinkle their noses and tell Lulu she could have them.

Which, of course, was her plan all along.

It worries me that in spite of the fact that our house is stuffed with doggie toys, I keep buying her more. Who's problem is this, really?

Oh, please. I fail to see any problem with this situation. 

And treats. The poor little dears need a constant supply of treats. 

I had a professor in college that was very frank in discussing her bipolar disorder with her students. I admired her greatly for this, especially since she taught psychology. I remember her lectures probably better than any others that semester.

She once described those behaviors that told her she was entering the manic part of her disorder:

"I know that when the back of my car is so full of Petco bags stuffed with treats and toys for the dogs and nobody can find room in the back seat, that I had better re-evaluate my medications!"

Hmm.