When Jon brought the dog toy home four years ago it made me a little uncomfortable.
Yes, a loudmouth Trump doll spouting Trumpisms for the dogs to play with was funny. But I knew there were also Hillary dog toys that our neighbor’s dogs were most likely playing tug-of-war with too.
It was too much like a voodoo doll or effigy.
There is a dark side of me that enjoyed the idea of seeing Donald, reduced to a dog toy, being carried around in Fate’s and Bud’s mouths.
Like a voodoo doll or effigy.
So for four years, I watched Donald Trump, the dog toy, kicking around the house. I’d toss him into the dog toy basket with the other toys only to find him wedged under the couch or outside soaking wet in the rain or frozen in the snow.
All the other stuffed toys were eventually shredded by the dogs.
A teddy bear without an arm, a flattened pony its insides being pulled out through a hole in its belly. Whtie clouds of stuffing strewn over the living room floor.
But Donald, dirty and beat up as he was, seemed indestructible.
Even when we got Zinnia and she chewed up the remaining stuffed toys along with her new ones, she didn’t make a dent in Donald.
The dog toy was as resilient as the man was.
Until six days ago. The first day of the second Impeachment Trial of Donald Trump.
That day I saw spotted the telltale stuffing leading under the dining room table.
I followed its trail to Zinnia chewing on the dog toy’s head. I watched as she pulled a tuft of white stuffing and faded orange hair from the toy then spit it out on the carpet.
When Joe Biden was elected president I told Jon I was done with Donald Trump. I wasn’t giving him any more energy of my energy.
But my superstitious self kept an eye on the Donald dog toy as the real Trump raged on.
Last Tuesday I crawled under the dining room table, picking up the fluffs of stuffing. I took the toy out of Zinnia’s mouth and gave her a kiss on the head.
Then I threw the Donald Trump dog toy in the garbage.