On Tucker and my first gig together, my UPM took up the challenge of finding Tucker a toy that lasted more than seven minutes. I told her it would be tough and not to spend too much money, but she insisted that she took joy in the process.

After our second weekend on the production, she showed up and handed Tucker his first challenge. This is essentially the story of every toy Tucker has:

Tucker politely takes it from her hand, and throws it down on the ground, butt up in the air and tail furiously wagging to express his joy.

Tucker pauses for a moment to say, "Thank you," and after she walks away, adds under his breath with full confidence, "Challenge accepted."

Thirty-five minutes later, he has beheaded it, and the cranium lies outside the gate to my office as if in warning to all other toys that might trespass.

I retrieve the head as to not upset the production bullpen, while Tucker completes eviscerating the torso.

One hour and fourteen minutes later, Tucker is sad and toyless.
I don't think I need to write this part, but just so it's absolutely clear: this toy is an epic failure. "Chew Guard Technology" did nothing to save this little supposed billie goat from complete annihilation. 

I've tried to find it online, but it appears that it's off the market. Good choice, Go Dog.