WARNING: The images in this post are graphic! They may be disturbing to … well … everybody.
I didn’t want to write this blog. But last week Garry posted MASSACRE AT FURRY TOY PASS. It made me realize if he was brave enough to tell the truth, I guess I should do the same.
Dogs are Man’s Best Friends. We all know that. We love them. They love us back.
They help the blind.
They serve in the military.
They rescue us in times of disaster.
And they’re just so damn cute!
But there’s another side to this story. A dark side. A side seen only by the victims. Yes, dogs are man’s best friend. But what if you’re not a man? What if you’re… a dog toy?
Our oldest dog, Lexi, has dozens of toys.
She’s had them for years. Then, about two months ago, we got Remy.
One of the first things she noticed was the big pile of doggie toys in the family room.
She took each one out and threw it in the air and chased after it.
She did this all day until they’d all been thrown and chased. They were all over the room. At the end of her first day she fell asleep surrounded by all of her new friends.
It was so damn cute.
But then the next day came. I thought I’d heard odd sounds throughout the night. Ripping sounds. Tearing sounds. I assumed I was just imaging things. But then I went downstairs, there it was. The carnage!
They were everywhere. Strewn all over the floor.
Eviscerated husks lying there in limp testimony to an indifferent world, an uncaring universe. Victims of a monster who seems to take joy in vivisecting “animals of cloth”.
And the stuffing! God the stuffing! It was everywhere! The floor.
And places that made no sense!
How the hell did it get in the microwave? I put in a cup of coffee!
Ellin and I both tried to deny it. Ignore it. Pretend it didn’t happen. But like I said. It was everywhere!
In the end we had to face the horror.
In retrospect we should have seen it coming. Lexie left most of the toys alone except for one. Blue Dog.
It was her first toy and she took it with her everywhere. But as the months and years went by Blue Dog would lose a leg, or two legs. Or a nose.
Ellin would patiently sew them back on. We thought it an act of kindness. Looking back, maybe we were enablers.
Strangely, the massacre only lasted a couple of days. Then it stopped. I don’t know why. Maybe they realized what they had done. What the cost was to them and to humanity.
Who am I kidding? It’s probably because we haven’t bought them any new toys. We shouldn’t. They’re monsters. Slayers.
But they’re just so damn cute.