Ain't No Match For the Jaws of Life

Now that N is back at work at the dam, I'm having to do more around the house during the week since I'm a single parent of two now.  Zoe is her usual, only child self and requires that we play together, which is fine, I can do that.  I love hanging with my kiddo.  New the family dynamics is Toby.  Honestly, he's sometimes more high maintenance than a human.  He whines when I'm playing with Zoe and not with him.  He herds me away from Zoe so I can play with him.  He will try and sit on my lap when I'm cuddling with Zoe.  He's got all kinds of ideas that revolve around him being the center of attention and not Zoe.  It's sibling rivalry to the extreme. 

Toby is a chewer.  Praise the Lord, he only chews on his toys.  If we get him a stuffed animal, he'll have the stuffing out within the day.  If we give him a bone, he's gnawed off an end of it before the hour is over.  The boy chews and chews and chews.  I'm not complaining because he has only chewed two things he shouldn't have.  I think that's a great record.

However, because he's such a chewer, we are constantly having to get toys for him.  He loves stuffed animals with a squeaker in them.  They make him happy.  We took stock out of these 4-pack of animals that they had a Costco because we got 4 of them and we could make them last 10 days if needed!  The last ladybug is holding onto her last thread and we thought we'd pick up some more this weekend so that Toby would have something to chew this week.

They didn't have them anymore.  They did have these toys called that were appropriately named Tuffy.  They are for aggressive chewers and they're machine washable.  Because God was smiling, they also had squeakers in them, which are Toby's favorite.  We bought a pack thinking that maybe these would last longer than 24 hours. 

Then Toby showed us just how much of a misnomer the word Tuffy was.

Last night I was in the kitchen and in comes Toby making this weird sound.  Then he puked.  It was black.  I'll tell you there's nothing worse than seeing your dog puke and knowing that your husband isn't home to clean it up...until you see it's black and you start to wonder why.  Then you see this:

The Tuffy has been destroyed, eaten and puked back up, all within 24 hours.  I fear for the things that are on the receiving end of that mouth.  I think I'm going to start calling him Jaws rather than Toby.