Sh*t My Dog Eats

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).

Used Kleenexes.

Used Band-aids.

Half a roast chicken, including bones.

Rubber bands.

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.

A Whopper.

Popsicle sticks.

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.

A backpack.

My lunch.

My dinner.

My breakfast.

My gross, sweat-drenched Bikram yoga clothes.

My coffee.

CC’s beer.

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.

The couch.

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?

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52 thoughts on “Sh*t My Dog Eats

  1. Whew! I am so glad I am not alone in this! Molly, having only lived with us for only 3 months has chewed through most of Diego’s minions, lincoln logs, and assorted lego pieces. Feminine products also are high on her list of edibles, as are used kleenex, and (dirty) underwear…so disgusting. She does chew on her own toys but only if she can’t get to anything else. I have taken to closing all the bedroom doors in the house and Diego has become a lot better about picking up his toys. How she does no get sick is beyond me!

  2. Oh my. You are a patient, patient woman. We are pet-free, but I once found a pink bead in my baby’s poop. Good to know: small plastic beads do no harm to the digestive system, and come out the same way they went in.

  3. Casey is so adorable. I think she has Wonderbutt beat in the ingestion department, though. Maybe he just hasn’t lived long enough to develop such a long list, but he’s working on it. One thing I don’t see on your list is carpeting and the padding underneath. Oh, and Dimples’ pink barette.

    1. The only reason she hasn’t eaten the carpet is that we pulled most of it up after we got them. We had this hideous teal carpeting throughout most of the house, and when they had peed on it like fourteen times in the first day, out it went. Nice hardwood floors under that. She did manage to pull a knot out of one of the wood planks. That was impressive.

  4. Wow! She either has a cast iron stomach or more than the nine lives given a cat. My boys have been so good in comparison. Other than when Sully was young and teething on my flip flops, reading and sunglasses, the leg of my late mother’s wing chair (which he got his ass beat for), and a few other odds and end that include feces, and yes…feminine hygiene products–that I’m not going to get into because it stills raises the bile in my throat–I didn’t really have any problems with chewing and destroying things. Hound Dog never did (maybe its a Chihuahua thing and they don’t chew. dunno). Nails and tacks, really? WOW!

  5. Are you sure my puppy Ralphy hasn’t been at your house helping to eat those things? He also likes the heels on my shoes, loves bools, has even taken the pages out to eat them, eaten Ernie (the other dog’s) eye medicine. He has plenty of chew toys and rawhide toys but prefers hands and things he shouldn’t have. He gets put in his crate when I’m not home now and doesn’t seem to mind it. Thank heaven,

  6. Ewwwww!!! Gross! Well I see we have some sh*t in common. 🙂 Thanks for visiting me also! I don’t have a dog, but I do have 2 cats and a 6 year old. One of our cats likes to eat onions, aluminum foil, and orange peels. Sometimes olives and cottage cheese. My 6 year old likes making concoctions that involve his own saliva. (gag). This is a link to one of his grosser moments! (http://shitmy6yearoldsays.wordpress.com/2010/08/02/the-third-ingredient/)

  7. Uh-oh – chocolate is very dangerous to dogs. Kills them or something.

    When my former dog was a puppy, she would spend her alone time in the house constructively. She liked redecorating with dirty underwear. We once came home, opened the front door, with a professional colleague and his wife in tow, and an impressive pile of our dirty underwear was mounded at our feet. And she was so proud of herself! Ran up to her pile of work, wagging her tail and smiling, tongue wagging, eyes wide, waiting for the congratulatory pat on the head. Ugh.

    1. Apparently Casey is unfazed by it. Chocolate is her version of the poison blowfish. I can just imagine how happy your doggie was with her collection (“Look ma! I got ’em all! Right here!”) and how embarrassed you must have been.

  8. wheel of cheese freshly imported from holland.
    half a pack of bratwurst.
    birthday chocolate cake.
    birthday cheesecake
    Thanksgiving turkey x3
    (he really hits his stride in november)

  9. Not the cheese, anything but the cheese!! (Gouda and Manchego are two of my favs.)

    Wow. This list is probably something you should hang on the fridge. It’s very impressive. We really lucked out with Uncle Jesse on that front, except the one time he ate an entire tray (2 lbs?) of raw beef off of the kitchen counter (in his defense, we give him raw beef as a treat *spoiled rotten*) – after it had been seasoned, etc. He never looked happier. He didn’t even get sick!

    1. Yeah, the cheese was the most painful loss for me (namely because she hasn’t gotten any of *my* shoes yet). Go, Uncle Jesse! Casey didn’t get sick the second time she ate the same salami.

  10. I have a pug who feels like used qtips have the taste equivalent to prime rib. He steals them and somehow shoves them deep in his little mouth – but I can always tell because he looks at me out of the corner of his eye and starts trying to slink away. I yell at him and eventually I have to chase him and dig that, now covered in dog spit, qtip out of his smooshy face. It is quite fun.

    My lab has eaten everything…however his worst find yet was eating 3/4 of a container of coconut oil. He puked and…well…everything else for 3 solid days…and then it was like nothing ever happened. He was as happy as ever…until he found the Costco sized bag of Kashi…yep…you can only imagine. And it was THAT bad. 🙂

    1. HAHAHAHA!!!! I can’t even remember which ones they were because there are so many around here. I think they may already have been dead online. It would be awesome if they showed it. The Webkinz in bits, its stuffing getting pooped out into a pile. This is why I don’t design toys for children.

  11. My dog ate an atlas once as well as my father’s entire dinner that he left on the floor after running out to help my brother get his car out of a ditch. My dog also liked digging through warm laundry and once emerged from my parents’ bedroom with a pair of my mother’s panties on his head. Good times.

    1. An atlas is a lot of work. In the dog’s defense, he probably thought your dad meant that dinner as a giant treat. I love dogs with underwear on their head. It always makes me happy.

  12. Too adorable! My 95 pound American bull dog once broke into the refrigerator and ate half a bag of carrots and some lettuce. In other words, she tossed herself a salad while a pound of turkey stayed fully in tact. The girl loves her veggies! She’s also a fan of butter, bird seed, pizza crust and paper towels that smell of food.

  13. Here’s a whole other take. My son – at crawling and toddler stage – used to eat dog sh*t, whenever he could get his hands on it. He also tried scraps out of the garbage, dead cockroaches, moth balls … this from the one who turned up his nose at solid food for most of his first year.

  14. Holy wow! My dog went through a gnawing phase when I adopted him at four months, but he repeatedly went for the same not-significant targets.

    He’ll sneak a few of Li’l D’s toys here and there now, but the only damage he’s done since his puppy days five years ago was to ALL my shoes one afternoon. He figured out not only how to get out of his kennel (since replaced, for obvious reasons) but how to get into the closet. I’d just splurged on a pair of shoes for the first time in my life and had to work to keep my cool when I saw them in tatters all across my bed.

    I’m glad Ba.D. had urged me to put the lone pair of boots that have ever fit over my calves up on a shelf! Just in case . . .

    1. Oh boy. That would be as close to a deal-breaker as they could commit and still live to tell about it, I think. I have trouble with boots fitting over my calves too. I live & die by Zappos because they give the circumference of boots 🙂

  15. My parents got a puppy when I was in high school. At that time he ate a pack of cigarettes and a bag of Reese’s peanut butter cups. I couldn’t believe he never showed signs of distress after those instances, but I also wonder if they contributed his diabetes so many years later.

Comment. It gives me a reason not to clean my house.

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