It's a dirty nylon bone, something Albert unearthed from the backyard about a month ago. He now carries it with him everywhere -- to the couch, and into the office when I'm working; he naps with it, sleeps with it. He leaves it at the back door when he goes outside, and picks it up when he returns.
Albert's not a chewer or a toy-kind of guy. Even the tennis balls have to be traveling, at a decent clip, somewhere, otherwise he's not interested in the least.
This was Phoebe's favorite toy. I think it's called a dental bone or something cutesy, Denta-Bone, maybe. She gnawed and worked away at this thing constantly -- her challenge. She removed a few of the rubber spikes -- that was her personal best. Otherwise, this was the only thing she couldn't tear, deconstruct, or eviscerate.
So though this nylon bone may look dirty and disreputable to you, for Albert, it's a scrapbook, a sentimental song, a memory of the girl who taught him never fear the noise of fireworks, thunder, or gardeners. Her motto: Always bark back.
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