DEAD PRESIDENTS


Why do I always hurt the ones I love? All of my friends are wounded..and at my hand,…ok, mouth. Mr. Bear has what looks to be a bullt hole in his head, nope I just have seem to have torn a hole there and now his soft white synthetic brains just fall right out. Lbs., (or pounds) as he is called, (Lbs stands for little brown sh**) he is the big M&M looking guy. He too has a hole in his head and I seem to get great joy in pulling his wondeful soft white fluffy brains out. So does that make me a bad doggy?  My fake raccoon took an abdominal injury in stride, but I swear I want to get that squeaker removed from him…I gotta’ keep him from sqeaking, he might warn the others. Oh and yeah, yellow dog, well I think he has just been granted Swiss citizenship. He has so many holes and constantly bleeds stuffing.

Sometimes the big guy trys to help them escape and gives them a head start by launching them away from me, but I always track ’em down. They just don’t seem to run fast enough, hehehe…..

 Sigh, friendship is fleeting. I guess the life expectancy of squeaky stuffed friends isn’t very long. Ah well, they are fun for awhile. It is better to have loved and chewed than to never have been chewed at all…or something like that.

Life Lesson: Sometimes the ones you love will rip the stuffing out of you.  (RIP Lbs., raccoon, Mr. Bear, Yellow dog)

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2 thoughts on “DEAD PRESIDENTS

  1. He didn’t even mention the demise of sqeaky rubber chicken, the squeaky ball, and other “friends”. As the saying goes squeaky toys with friends like Meatball who needs……

  2. Pick your friends wisely meatball, because someday you may be challenged at the O.K. corral at High Noon. Remember. don’t be a bully.
    Poppy

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