This was the very first toy I bought Tiny, grabbed desperately at the pet store after the hour-long drive back from Antioch. I didn't know him at all yet.
The shelter had set us off with a Ziploc bag of food, a leash and his vaccination records. So at my local pet store, I wandered the aisles, Tiny in tow, and hucked stuff into a basket. Treats. Very small balls for him to potentially fetch (Did he fetch? No idea). A better leash. Bowls. A crate (thank heavens). And -- this.
It might be a mouse. Maybe. There are ears and a tail of sorts. And it makes not one but two different squeaks. I know this because it makes those squeaks for literally hours at a stretch. Because it is Tiny's favorite toy. FAVORITE. I can ask him, "Where's your little friend?" and he will sort of desperately search around until he's found it. And then hide it from me. While making it squeak.
Those squeaks are going to be what I hear in my head when they take me off to the home.
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