Weird Little Stroker

My aunt Lynda, may she rest in peace, always had a way with words, not necessarily eloquent but more ghetto I suppose.  Even though, to this day I still use some of those 'family phrases.'  One of those phrases was, "weird little stroker."  I use this to describe my dog, Rusty.  Since the day my husband, Frank brought him home from his then foster home, he's has a dog toy in his mouth.  He doesn't play with them or squeak the squeaker inside of them, but brings them to you as some kind of offering, but never relinquishes the toy.  As if he is saying, "see, I slaughtered this thing and therefore am a providing member of the pack."  He brings these gifts to us everywhere, even as we sit on the toilet, peeing.  I suppose he wants us to enjoy his company as well as the toy, and that's a good thing.  Company to pee by. Weird little stroker.

 Rusty also loves shredding tissues, whenever he gets the chance.  Frank has allergies and uses a lot of tissues, but has the nasty habit of wadding them up and leaving them on a coffee or end table so he can use them again.  Most of the time when he leaves the area, he takes the icky tissues with him, but sometimes he leaves them.  Rusty will snag the tissue and shred it on the floor.  Once 'the crime' is discovered and Frank or I ask loudly, "did YOU do that?"  He responds by racing around the house in victory laps as if he is proud he was able to pull of said, Bad Dog crime.  Weird little stroker.

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