I thought these Tuffy toys were supposed to be virtually indestructible.

Six minutes, he had this thing. Six. Minutes.

That was the best leash, too. Damn.

A mile into our walk, Torg poops. I pick up the poop (which contained an impressive number of tiny foam beads). As I am tying the bag off, he is busy doing this.

You can imagine how much fun the mile walk back home was.

RIP, Patti Mayonnaise.

The worst part about Torg destroying my microbead pillow is not that she is gone. It's that she bled teeny tiny foam beads all over the damn house. We'll be finding these things for years.

(Yes, I named my pillow Patti Mayonnaise. What of it?)

Yum. Bed.

He ever does this to MY bed, I'm gonna be really pissed.

This basket used to hold stuff.

Specifically, his toys. Dog, once the toys are out of the basket, you can put them back IN it, then take them out again, then put them back, ad nauseum. No need to destroy it for no longer containing toys.

Ouch.

Leash burn hurts like a mother.

Beach ball down.

Looks like freaking Edward Cullen came for a visit.

My dog destroys stuff.

This is Torgerson. Torgerson destroys stuff.

I know, all dogs destroy stuff. But Torgerson destroys a LOT of stuff. He's lived with us for less than two weeks and he's already destroyed:

1. A leash
2. Three sippy cups
3. At least 20 balls from Lorelai's ball pit
   
4. His bed
5. A pillow
6. A baby block
7. A stuffed penguin
8. His stuffed bone
9. A stuffed duck that plays music
10. The corners of half of Lorelai's books
11. The black ball from my in-laws' croquet set
12. The basket we kept his toys in
13. The wastebasket from Lorelai's room
14. Two beach balls
15. Lorelai's pig spoon

Now, not all of these items have been damaged beyond repair/future use (the croquet ball is still functional, but it's got a lot of bite marks in it), but if he's chewed it to the point that I have groaned and said, "Oh, shit, not again", I consider it fodder for this new blog of mine.

A friend who also has a rescue dog about Torg's size said her dog did similar things for a while, but once she fully settled into their house and realized she was there for good, she stopped. So there's hope that one day I can leave a room without fearing for my sofa cushions (which, to date, have not been destroyed, but have been moved from the sofa into the dining room).

In the meantime, I shall blog Torg's destruction. Enjoy.