All this culinary reminiscing is just a slyly deceptive lead-in to the video of my dog Freddy I've posted below, which has nothing at all to do with food. But I think you'll find it fascinating.
From then on, Freddy has treated this particular toy in a gentle and almost meditative manner completely different from his approach to all his other toys. When he plays with Baby or Squeaky Devil or Quadripus (who has lost several of his original 8 legs over the past year and is in grave danger of becoming a Triplapus any day now), he'll growl ferociously, shake the living daylights out of them, and eventually, rip them to shreds. When Lambchop comes out, though, Freddy regresses to a tender stage of early puppyhood. There is an uncanny transformation that takes place over a period of a minute or so: our assertive, strong-willed adult dog morphs before our eyes into a vulnerable, nursing infant.
It will happen before your eyes, too, as you watch this video:
Isn't that charming, and also a bit weird? Lambchop seems to have a similar effect on Freddy to that of catnip on cats. We've never been able to figure out what it is about this toy that elicits this remarkable response — is it the texture, the look, the smell of the thing? Repeated washings have not diminished Lambchop's mesmerizing potency, but we are concerned that eventually she will just disintegrate into nothing. Would Freddy accept a replacement if it looked exactly the same?
Let's hope we never have to find out.
Let's also hope that someday we do find the toy that will cause Willy's eyes to glaze over and to put that perpetual motion machine of a dog into a state of contented lethargy.