All our house needs now is a Cheetuck...

We had a tragedy last week, roundabouts Tuesday or so. Dakota killed Monkey. Or, rather, she de-legged him. We were playing tug-of-war (I wasn't wearing any clothes at the time, I can't remember why), and she growled and tugged and growled and tugged, and Monkey and all of his weary seams just sighed in resignation and released his leg into my grasp. There wasn't even a sound, really. No dramatic ripping, just a soft *pooft* and there was Monkey's leg, detatched from Monkey's body. In my hand. No blood, just a disconcerting fray of torn thread at the one end.

Oh, gosh...typing that, it just occurred to me that maybe I de-legged Monkey. After all, his leg DID end up in my hand. Oh dear. I may owe Monkey a big apology.

Anyway, after the Death of Monkey, my first thought (and, I'm sure, Dakota's too) was, "We must get ANOTHER Monkey!" Because, you know, one should not go more than a day or so with a yawning void unfilled by a stuffed monkey. It's not good for the soul. So, on Sunday, I took Dakota in search of Monkey, The Redux.

We weren't successful, at least in terms of finding the Next Big Monkey. Oh, sure, they had a few assorted apes, but they were garish, cartooney primates with no sense of dignity. Not something I wanted to see laying around on my carpet. Not something I wanted to see hanging out of my dog's mouth. I have my standards.

What we did find...was a cheetah. More specifically, a cheetah with squeakers in his four paws and a huge squawker in his stuffed gut. Not just any squawker, though...one that sounds like an INDIGNANT DUCK. Dakota's eyes were shining at the prospect of drooling all over that delicious pile of polyester.

So, you better believe he came home with us. And his name is Cheetuck. And I'm finding that it's rather charming to be awakened by soft, indignant quacking first thing in the morning. Charming, indeed...