I recently found a Kong squeaky football that Lagniappe disliked and never played with, and yesterday I gave it to Murphy.
Bad idea. Bad, bad idea.
I'd take a picture of him with it but I can't get him to sit still with it long enough to snap a shot.
I also can't get him to stop squeaking it and thrusting it into my face (while squeaking it, of course).
Why is it the things that seem to give dogs so much pleasure and enjoyment are the things that bother us humans so?
Squeak! Squeak! Squeeeeeeel!
Somebody just shoot me.