Gary came in to our lives a few years back.
At first, it was all fun and games... we enjoyed having him around and he was entertaining, but over time Gary became more and more of an embarrassment. It was obvious he was falling apart. We hid him from the public eye more often than not and soon our dog was the only one who would go near him.
How he has managed to not be completely destroyed or even silenced is beyond me.
Of course, we had been diligent and taught or dog, Bentley to be gentle with Gary because we knew how fragile and easily torn apart he could be.

Normally we refrain from purchasing plush Toys for our half Golden Retriever/ Half Standard Poodle (called a Goldie-Poo BTW...) but have made exceptions on a few occasions. When we do bring home a plush toy, we always name it and also always spend some time trying to teach Ben to be gentle. You see, usually Ben digs his teeth in to the surface of any Plush toy and methodically and slowly rips it to shreds. He has refrained from this, for he most part, three times. I say for the most part because we still need to remind him from time to time.

He had a small puppy named Blue (despite the fact that it was purple) who was his best friend and whom he was gentle with but who he lost interest in after Blue’s squeaker went.

Bentley’s favorite pal for going to sleep is a large stuffed Sheep called Bed Time Baaaab. Baaaab is also in pretty bad shape but his existence in our house is guaranteed due to his top placement on Bentley’s toy food chain. His coat is a bit ratty and his eyes and nose are a little shredded. Ben forgets sometimes and we have been known to wake up at night saying “Gentle” before we flop back to sleep. His squeaker died some time ago and he spent a week making pathetic “chuff chuff” noises before it went for good. Most of all, he is stained beyond any redemption.
Bentley’s drool has stained his own moustache and beard a dark brown, so Baaaaab never really stood a chance.

And so we come to Gary. Gary, as you can see from the picture is a large Canadian Goose. A rather apt toy for a Canadian dog that has some hunting breed in him. At well over a foot long, he makes the perfect lean fetch toy. I can grab Gary by the head and throw him almost a hundred yards. While Ben is gentle not to “rip” Gary, the goose has become the center of Psycho Crazy Dog Time.

“What’s that? You own a fish and don’t know what “Psycho Crazy Dog Time” is?” This doesn’t surprise me. It’s almost impossible to play fetch with a fish unless of course the fish is the object that is to be fetched.

Psycho Crazy Dog Time is the time when you work your dog in to such an excited frenzy that he is likely to break every object in your house. The endorphins make him loopy. I normally recommend spending Psycho Crazy Dog Time outside but for us its more fun indoors. Gary is the second toy to be the central figure of this game, the first being a weird part stuffed/ part rope creature we called Mr. Crazy Leggs.
To play properly, Gary is thrown from room to room with Ben racing faster each time Gary needs to be retrieved. Half our house is ceramic tile so Ben has to skitter to a stop and he frequently over shoots. Likewise, if he adjusts his pace for tile and then hits carpet he goes head over heals.
Then we start to involve the upper floors. Gary is thrown from the Guest Bedroom and down the long hall to the Master bedroom. Ben incorporates the beds in the upper floors and leaps from one to another, sometimes knocking them off their frames.
He races down the stairs, back up the stairs, around all the bedrooms with Gary being whipped from side to side by his neck. Ben can get a really good head whip going when he wants. Since Ben is working himself in to a lather, Gary gets encased in putrid, foamy dog spit.
I’ve washed him a couple of times but Ben looses interest when Gary is cleaned up.
Gary is so much fun that his white neck is stained a brownish red, his feathers are crisp with dried spit and we’ve sewn up his neck repeatedly. I don’t want to touch him. My wife doesn’t want to touch him. My daughter (of course) doesn't mind so much and shoves his beak in her mouth, sucking on it with reckless abandon until we stop her, but she’s only one and doesn’t have the throwing arm needed for Psycho Crazy Dog Time.

Sadly, Gary gets shoved under an end table and forgotten. From time to time Ben brings him out, gives Gary’s belly a lusty “Honk” and looks at us with hope on his face, but Gary has stopped being fun for us. He’s crispy, he’s smelly and he’s stained.

Despite his general survival, I may have to buy a second one. I will highly recommend him because he was inexpensive, a ton of fun while he lasted and he lasted longer than Mr. Crazy Leggs. We will go on a hunt for a new Gary and bid farewell to the one that now repulses us. I guarantee, my dog won’t even notice he’s gone.

Now we should start thinking of good “G” names.


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