Everywhere I look, there is a dog toy. They have names too. We've got Pig, Froggie, Jack, Giraffe, Hedgie, Harley, along with bone, ball, and rope. Brinkley must have two dozen dog toys spread around the house. Either he wants none or he wants them all. Furniture seems to be his favorite toy replacement but there are the moments where he gathers toys together as if creating his own little toy harem. If I could read his mind he's probably laughing and yelling, "They're mine. They're ALL mine!!"
He probably thinks his name is "Brinkley, No!" because those are the two most often used words of my vocabulary these days. He had his first bath adventure the other day after a long day visiting his grandparents. I would have taken pictures but my arm was pinned down my a wet Brinkley trying to climb to safety. He actually did fairly well so there is some hope that maybe one day he'll leave said limb alone.
I've also decided that he may have some type of evergreen fetish. There are smallish evergreen bushes that line the path from our condo door to the lovely green grass where Brinkley does his business. About 3 or 4 times a day, Brinkley has the urge to launch himself into these bushes as fast as a his uncoordinated body will allow. He dives in head first, does a few bounds, and then darts across the sidewalk and dives into the next unsuspecting bush. He criss-crosses in the same fashion all the way back to the door. It also must be some unbarked of puppy rule that's it necessary to grab one last twig or rock to bring to the door on the off chance that I won't notice. I always notice- after all, I didn't pay $5.99 for a squeaking lobster so he could chew on a free twig.
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