This reminds me of a friend’s dogfriend (a miniature dachshund who seemed determined to eat the entire house)! I can’t even say how many times my friend had to take the doxie Shoestring to the vet to have some new and unusual item removed from her dog’s intestines.
This rather interesting discussion on canine culinary habits came from Burlington Free Press.com.
What about your four-footed playmate?
Idyll Banter: Dog eat dog? It’s dog eat anything
By Chris Bohjalian
Free Press Columnist
For years, young scholars have failed to turn in their assignments at school by insisting that the dog ate their homework. With classes resuming later this month, I thought it would be helpful for students to know if this was indeed a plausible excuse. The answer? It is. I heard from a dozen dog owners, and there is just nothing that man’s best friend won’t eat. It doesn’t even have to resemble food.
Seven months ago, 14-year-old Sam Hutchins’ young dog ate a loaded pincushion, causing Sam’s father, Fred, to observe, “It’s remarkable what adolescent males will eat. Come to think of it, I’m not sure there is a difference between humans and dogs in that regard.” Fred and Sam knew how many pins were in the dog as a result of an X-ray, and spent the next few days pulling pins from the dog’s poop to make sure each and every one was accounted for.
Earlier this spring, Tammy Bourdeau, a sales representative at Gardener’s Supply Co., worried when her cocker spaniel fell ill. The dog was rushed into surgery when an ultrasound revealed a mass in her intestines. The culprit? Not cancer, fortunately. Instead it was a plastic bread clip that was acting now as an intestinal valve, letting some things pass … but not others.
In June, Kit Howe, a human resources generalist at Gardener’s Supply, realized that her greater Swiss mountain dog was under the weather. The animal stopped eating. The problem, Kit discovered, was that the creature had consumed a sizable part of the sleeping bag on which it slept. How did she ascertain this? Eventually the dog regurgitated the zipper and (here again is that great euphemism) passed the rest.
Syndi Zook, the executive director of the Lyric Theatre Company, has a little terrier named Titus. When Titus was a puppy, he spent five hours devouring the floor in her kitchen and swallowing nearly his weight in vinyl. Years later, Titus would also eat a sizable chunk of the rotting seal carcass he came across in Maine. “It looked like a scene from a bad zombie movie, where even the dogs go berserk,” Zook remembers. Later that night the pooch would cough up a part of the seal’s jawbone.
Arguably, rotting seal carcass is food. Not appetizing food — but still food.