Ollie and his new chewy

Oliver is a great dog. What he isn't, and never has been, is a chewer. Sure, he takes advantage of the random rawhide bone or bully stick, munching on them until he eats them, or chokes on them, or leaves them around so they dry out and get really sharp and injure my feet. Because of those random occurrences, I really don't encourage any prolonged chewing obsessions. I fear though that my reluctance to bring a chewy item into the house may be the reason why so many of our shoes have been killed.
Daisy, you see, is a chewer. She'll chew on Sydney's toys, Brian's t-shirts, the entire family's shoes and sandals (flip flops are her preferred choice), and even electronic equipment cords (anyone know where I can get a new foot pedal for our Rockband drum set?). I decided over the weekend that perhaps I have been too lax in getting Daisy something that she can chew on.
So with that in mind, Brian made his way over to Petco. He bought Daisy two hooves -- I assume they are cow hooves, but they actually seem a little small to be bovine (pig?) -- and the little chewies have become very popular around the house since then. (And that is what we call them, "chewies." Not creative, but always better than "bones," "rawhide pieces," or "hooves.") Now Oliver and Daisy share, argue over, chew the hell out of, and whisper sweet nothings to these little hooves all day. Yes, they smell a little, but not too offensively bad, and also are not too painful when accidentally stepped on.
I find myself wondering why exactly it takes me so long to get my head out of the clouds and come up with a solution sometimes. I mean, really, we've had Daisy for 10 months; I have tossed out countless shoes, t-shirts and toys; and I just now think to myself, "Hmmm ... perhaps we should re-think the chewing situation?"