Ringo

Little Ringo misplaced his blue squeaky stuffed bone a couple weeks ago. Everyday when I came home from work he would tear around the house looking for it. He temporarily made due with a rawhide bone we gave him. This dog doesn't chew on rawhides, he just carries them around like a prize. He sleeps with them too.

I finally gave up hope that we would ever find the squeaky bone. I'd looked all over the house for it. So, last night while I was at Target I bought him a new squeaky bone. It's exactly the same as the last one, except the new one is green. I gave it to him when I got home and he went crazy. He ran laps around the kitchen squeaking the hell out of that bone.

I was laying in bed later on watching TV when Ringo ran into the room, launched onto the bed and dropped a squeaky bone by my feet. Not a new, clean, green one. A dirty, smelly, blue one. He somehow found the old one no less than three hours after I replaced it.

That dog is a jerk.