It seemed like a good idea at the time

I thought I was so darn smart. Not so much, as it turns out.

Dax was so very happy and into tugging with her celery rib in agility class that I wanted to translate that into something I actually wouldn't mind carrying in the back pocket of my jeans. Not that chewed-on, limp celery isn't delightful to sit on. But it's really not.

So I put my thinking cap on and came up with an idea so incredibly insightful that I almost broke my arm patting myself on the back. I took some strips of fleece, braided them together, soaked them in strained V-8 juice (she likes vegetables, not fruit) and let it drip-dry over the laundry tubs.

Roc loved it! When I tossed it down on the floor he was writhing in ecstasy all over it. Golly ignored it, Ceilidh got this look on her face that said "I just don't get it," and Dax tugged on it ferociously! I was joyous! My dog was tugging!

Then I took it to class last week. Dax looked at me like I was out of my mind. She'd never seen it before, she certainly wouldn't stoop to touching it, and, by the way, where's my celery?

I had some with me, of course. Because I know that my dogs rarely, if ever, appreciate my brilliance.