The bodies are piling up. Dozens and dozens of Olive’s plush toys, some dismembered, others disemboweled, all cheerfully transformed by Olive’s hydraulic jaw. I have tried numerous brands, countless textures and sizes ranging up to that of a petite bison. Olive laughs out loud at the packaging that screams “for tough chewers.” It doesn’t seem to matter. She uses her teeth to create a small puncture wound to gain entry. Then she starts to fillet the toy until puffy miniature clouds of stuffing begin to erupt from it. At this point, I have to take it away from Olive or she will gorge herself on the stuffing as if she’s Henry the VIII.

After much trial and error, here’s what I’ve learned about dog toys and Weims. The only fabric which remains fairly indestructible to Olive’s surgical talents is canvas. Fleece? To her, that’s a nice bowl of oatmeal. All labels must be removed prior to giving the toy to Olive or it’s the first thing she will remove…and eat. And what’s the deal with the little “fruit loops” on the toys? Is this so you can hang them on the Christmas tree? WTF? I must carefully prune the toy of these loops as well, otherwise I might as well just give Olive a can opener to penetrate the toy. No small appendages. That’s right, if there is a tiny arm, leg, fin or raised eye, I must amputate it. Otherwise, Olive will. Because I use a scissor, my cuts are much cleaner, sparing the plush squirrel, armadillo, bat or fox the pain that comes with the ragged edges that Olive’s teeth leave.

Let’s not forget the stitching on the toy either. Stitching must be so small and tight that it can only be seen at the cellular level. It must also use military strength thread. Oh, you think I should try using industrial strength rubber Kong-type toys? Well, unfortunately, Olive does not seem to like the smell or taste of vulcanized rubber. She won’t touch any of these type of toys. No matter what shape they come in. Bone, cat, chipmunk, bird. Nothing. Even if I stuff a treat inside one, she will endure it just long enough to extricate the treat. Then, she tosses it aside as if I’ve given her another dog’s dirty underwear to put on. As I stuff another dead toy into the trash can, which I seem to do every other day, I wonder what the local sanitation engineers must think when they see all the headless plush animals tumble out.