Tuff plush?

There's no such thing, as far as I'm concerned.

Our puppy is what we like to call an "aggressive chewer." This is the affectionate term used for dogs like ours by pet owners like us. It means "Our dog is crazy and rips everything apart. But oh - isn't she cute? We love her so much."

Mattie loves to put things in her mouth. Anything, really. But she is partial to a few items in particular: underwear, paper towels, ponytail holders, small pieces of plastic and paper, grass, leaves and plants, and anything that squeaks loudly. But socks are the real issue - we are constantly chasing her around the house trying to salvage our footwear. She snatches our socks and takes off running before we even know she has them, which usually means what we get back is nothing more than a limp piece of fabric with holes in both ends. (We're glad it's getting warmer, because sandal season should be a bit easier.)

While I'm sure there's nothing tastier than our smelly old socks, I think Mattie is really just trying to recapture the joy she felt when she was allowed to have plush toys.

When she was a baby, we had all kinds of squeaky stuffed animals laying around. She loved them. Particularly the ones twice as big as her head - she'd prance around with them, holding her head back like a seal balancing a ball on its nose. But soon we began noticing these animals were missing fringe, tails, limbs, etc. And every time she pulled off an appendage, we'd have to throw it away (lest she eat all of the stuffing). Nate quickly realized that soft toys were not the way to go, so he began purchasing tennis balls and rubber squeaky toys. Most of which are still around today.

I, however, always felt like there had to be a soft toy that could withstand our dog's exuberant chomping. And I tried. I bought different shapes and textures, but she tore each one apart with glee. The time it took for her to destroy these toys became less and less. So I gave up, even though I knew how much she loved having a big, fluffy toy in her mouth. We resorted back to rubber.

Until yesterday. I decided to hit up Petco for a new rawhide, and wandered past a display with "Tuff Plush" toys (which are THREE TIMES stronger than regular toys). I picked out the toy with the least amount of stuff to pull off and inspected every inch. It looked pretty durable. I pulled on it, checked the seams, made sure there weren't any red flags...and bought it.

The minute I came through the door, Mattie started dancing around. (She totally knew.) So I pulled it out of the package, cut off the tags, and handed it over. And she pranced right past me, happy as can be. She happily began squeaking it -- and everything looked secure -- so I went to check my email.

Two minutes later a leg was missing and there was a pile of stuffing on the floor.

Never one to give up easily, I remembered a trick my friend Nikki taught me: take out the stuffing and leave the carcass. So I got out a pair of kitchen tongs and pulled all the stuffing out until it was just a tube with a head. Then I cut the other legs off so she wouldn't eat them.

Less than two minutes later, she'd eaten half the body. I buried it in the trash under a bag filled with its own innards and gave her the rawhide instead.

Lesson learned. We'll stick with socks.

Mattie with a few of her plush toys (may they rest in peace):