But, this year, something magical happened. Fillmore got a squeaker toy and seemed to be savoring the squeak. He laid out on the couch and just squeaked and squeaked. Strangely, thought, he didn't seem to be trying to destroy it like normal. Just SQUEAK! SQUEAK! SQUEAK!
Unfortunately for him, this was coupled with many other Christmas gifts being opened and assembled. So, in a fit of stress, I was forced to take the squeaker toy and put it up to maintain my sanity.
Fillmore was not pleased.
And to teach me a lesson, he chose to curl up and pout on a blanket I am currently crocheting.
I felt sorry for him the next day and gave him his other squeaker toy. (He got 2.) And, due to the trauma he endured the previous day, he took that squeaker toy and tried to hide it from us. He hid it behind the Christmas trees and then sat on the couch and keeping vigil over the toy. After that spot became too risky, he went and retrieved his toy and tried putting it under some pillows and sat to watch it again. But, as soon as someone sat on the couch, he had to find another safe hiding place.
It was very funny to us, because he's never done this before. It's always been procedure for him to rip open the toy, retrieve the squeaker, spread all stuffing from one end of the house to the other, and then play only with the little chewed up plastic squeaker.
Day Three with this squeaker toy, and he was again trying to hide it under the tree. I was able to grab my camera without drawing any attention from him and snapped a picture of him.
As soon as the camera flashed, I was busted.
That afternoon, he finally ripped open the toy and got his squeaker out and I was not forced to put the squeaker toy up again. (The first one hasn't been returned to him yet, though. So, we still have another round of this to go.) And, I'm still finding bits of stuffing around the house.