Purchased by: Dad, sometime around 1998
Story: This one is bittersweet, which is why I'm ending the week on it. When Dad was in high school, his family got a Scottish Terrier they named Joseph Angus Tumnus Macduff (or, Joe, for short). He was a huge part of the family during several very crucial times, acting as solace and comfort first to Dad's little brother as Dad went off to college, then to the whole family as financial troubles forced them to move (as it turned out, into a money pit), and finally to Dad's mom as she and my human Grandpa divorced and she moved away to North Carolina (Asheville, as it turns out, which is also where Norman and his woman live). Anyway, Nails was Joe's favorite toy. In February of 2007, Joe went unexpectedly over the Rainbow Bridge. To this day, even after a kind of doggie autopsy, no one knows why he died (this is why Dad freaks out so much when Snoufer and I get sick). When all of Joe's stuff was being sifted through, Dad especially requested this toy be inherited by Big Brother (I wasn't around at the time).
Cause of death: I suppose he is technically dead. But he's been repaired so many times over the years, he's kinda like The 6 Million Dollar Man. Or Frankenstein.
Time of death: He'll never die. But he sure is fun to play with!
Favorite memory: The best part about Nails is that his tail and head whip around and whap me when I shake him. Which, I can only conclude, means he's trying to tell me he's boss and doesn't appreciate being torn fin from fin. So I do it again. And he whaps me again. So I do it again... I don't know what Joe's favorite memory of Nails is, but when I go over the Rainbow Bridge someday (Oh Dad, stop the leaking. Sheesh.), I'm sure we'll have lots to talk about.
Sorry. No digital camera = no pictures of Joe, at least until Dad can find one stashed away at either of his parents' houses, find a scanner, figure out how to upload the photo... well, you get the picture. Or, you don't. That's kinda the problem, isn't it? I give up.
13 hours ago