R.I.P. Tigger

I woke up to the sound of my dog puking on my bedroom floor. I tried to jump out of bed and rush her out the door before she had a chance but I didn't make it. So I go in the kitchen to commence operation clean up when she started up again. Shit! I run back in the room just in time to see her expel the tail off of Tigger. Now of course I watch too much Animal Planet and I know for a fact that a dog, left to it's own devices, can consume all the crayons in the box, enough tennis balls for the entire Wimbleton and as many chicken bones as it would take to build a KFC. I was pretty sure an entire Tigger toy was not out of the question but I also know all that crap can kill them. In a panic I begin to look for the rest of the tigger toy…hoping I was not going to have to call the vet. The dog is looking at me as if I have gone mad, crawling on the floor under tables, couches! Then she pukes up a tigger arm. At this point I’m frantic thinking that my poor dog will have half the contents of her entire toy collection in her stomach effectively proving that I am not a fit guardian of the species. She had seemed to stop puking in the middle of “Operation Tigger MIA” so I put her outside. Hoping maybe she will poop out more parts. I go back in the bedroom continuing my search. I pull the sheets off the bed and there was the casualty of war…missing a tail and an arm…poor Tigger. May he rest in pieces.