So that left out the costumes, the coats, the various shearling throws, the collection of beds, the toys, the bones, the various gates people futilely erect to restrain dogs in homes and cars: in short, all of the essential accoutrements of the modern pampered pup.
I've already cleaned out, mind you. But more had to go. The frayed green collar and leash that came in 1998 with Sparky went in the car, for emergencies such as our recent rescue of a lost lab. Ribbon-like leashes, fine for a picture-perfect dog like him, somehow don't work for me: off to my neighbor Elliott. Harnesses that I have Houdini-d out of went to those with lesser squirming abilities. I kept my party collar, optimistically purchased by Mom, worn once with its matching leash before I did a major chomp on it, perhaps 30 seconds into the party (see below).
|My sister plans to make a belt out of this royally-destroyed leash.|