My gift to you: a carcass

There is little Monty loves better than a stuffed animal. He drags any new conquest around the house for days -- attacking it, shaking it like a rat, chewing on it, squeaking the squeaker for an hour at bedtime. His favourite thing to do with his stuffed animals is to break into the seams and tear the stuffing out of the thing spreading little bits of fluff all over the house, under the furniture, and into the cushions.

I was at my happy place when I ran into what I was sure was a solution to little bits of fluff. It was a stuffed fox skin-- complete with squeaker in each end -- with NO STUFFING IN IT!!! I thought for sure we had found something awesome. I picked it up, brought it home, and presented it to Monty.

He could not have been more thrilled. He acts as though he killed it himself. He carried it around. He has pulled out the squeakers. He is thrilled.

Monty the mighty hunter.

The only problem? Now, instead of little bits of fluff, we have teeny pieces of fur scattered around the house. Smaller, harder to pick up, pieces of fur.