This is Casey.
Here is a partial list of contraband items she has eaten or attempted to eat so far in her two and a half years on earth:
The last half of the Gouda.
The face off a plastic polar bear.
Nails (as in threepenny, not finger-)
Poop (confirmed: deer, dog, and human).
Half a roast chicken, including bones.
A tax bill.
The cable remote.
Feminine hygiene products.
Five single flip flops, each from a different $4.99 Old Navy pair.
One Keene sandal, men’s, size 11, $100 pair.
A significant hole in the sleeve of a $500 Ralph Lauren suit jacket.
Did I mention nails?
Thumbtacks, with and without a plastic coating.
Lots and lots of candy. Including chocolate. Including wrappers.
Hairballs pulled out of the tub drain.
Pencils, pens, and magic markers.
Glass Christmas ornaments.
The same lamp cord, three times, miraculously unplugging it from the wall before finally biting through the insulation.
Bottle caps: plastic preferred, but metal will do in a pinch.
Several of the little red balls from my throw pillow that contain a hooked metal center.
The tasty plastic squeaker heart in every squeaky toy we’ve ever given them.
My gross, sweat-drenched Bikram yoga clothes.
The last of the Manchego.
Books, though mostly just the corners.
Her own bed.
Her own crate.
Her own harness.
Jack’s face (not in its entirety).
A watch band.
A hand and foot off a Troll doll.
Several Webkinz, the filling of which looks like a terrible case of worms when it’s coming out the other end.
Too much of the woodwork in the kitchen.
Not enough of our hideous kitchen wallpaper.
A bag of Oreos that she reached after figuring out how to open the pantry.
Bacon, half a pound, and the paper towel it was draining on. Though not the plate.
One-third of a sweet sopressata salami, which, having been consumed so soon after the aforementioned half pound of bacon (about 36 hours later), she immediately vomited back up, and then re-ate.
What sh*t does your dog (or child, or significant other) eat?