That new ball smell ...

I love the smell of a new tennis ball as it exits the tube, bright yellow, and still covered with nap. We seemed to have progressed to the place where my toys must be virtually indestructible.

Tempt me with the 'invincible' stuffed animal ... nope. Taunt me with a Canine Hardware durable frisbee ... think again. Puppy kong ... yeah, I ate mine.

The coping technique has evolved to include Internet searches and discussions with folks at the pet store. Each and every inquiry results in the next latest and greatest toy that cannot be destroyed by one, 20lb-Scottish Terrorist ... I mean, Terrier.

It's not even that I am that fond of my toys ... I just don't want anyone else to have them either. You can count on me to herd my assorted baubles away from anyone who just might happen to take an interest and who, in turn, then might endeavor to engage me in a game of fetch.