But then they get bigger. And bigger. And bigger.
And they continue to chew. And chew. And chew.
And then one day you look at your daughter's Barbie collection and realize it's a family of amputees. There's amputee Skipper:
And what can be said for poor baby sister Chelsea? Barbie's dream wedding is going to be a flower girl short. Chelsea won't be tossing rose petals down the aisle anytime soon.
Gus's reign of terror extends to more than just Barbies. (As if to make the point, he just walked into the office and pulled a wrapper out of the garbage and started shredding. Nice show of diversity, Gus, but today we're talking about what you do to toys.) The Playmobil mom... at least she was salvageable... though she's a bit of a bobblehead, now. But poor, poor, Tiana.
Ironically, Tiana just joined our house last week. A consolation gift after Gus destroyed a different Disney figurine.
I know what you're thinking. He's just a puppy. He's trying to get attention. He just wants someone to play with him. Well, let me tell you. Last night the kids did a phenomenal job of wearing him out. Running around and climbing on the couch, throwing balls and tackling him. Gus actually sat down at one point to catch his breath.
And then he walked over to the fireplace ledge and destroyed one of his namesakes. (The idea for "Gus" came from Cinderella's mice friends, Gus and Jacque.)
Don't let the sweetly innocent, "Who, me?" look fool you. That's an Imaginext alien ray gun he's trying to conceal in his mouth.
The final straw?
He hurt (deep breath) Sally.
Sally is mine. And now she's missing a hand and a huge hunk of her trademark 'do.
Nobody hurts my Sally doll.
I'd ask if anyone out there wants to adopt a dog, but I know Jeff would never allow it.