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When my golden retriever Lucy was a puppy she used to eat anything. I have two stories

1. I was making bracelets at a friend's house and eating Chinese food while doing so. Lucy came with me because I was obsessed with her. I knocked the Chinese food into my bowl of beads and Lucy ate a bunch of beads because of the food. I didn't tell my dad but he was shocked to sudden see rainbow dotted piles in the backyard.

2. Lucy also had a habit of eating tv remotes. One day she ate one. And we couldn't find the batteries. Obviously this was terrifying and like stressful.

She eventually pooped them out. My dad saw two intact batteries sticking out of a pile.

He called her double A for literal years.

not really a story but a bit more of a trait of my dog

just for a little backstory, my neighbor's dog had two pups unplanned (they didn't even know she was expecting until they saw her carry the pups around and thought they were rats), and we got one of them for free c:

His name is Rocky, and he's weird all around xp but one thing he does is that he remembers who gives him toys when we get home from shopping (he usually expects that we're getting him something every time we come home), and if it's toys from my mom he usually just rips them up, but he's extremely gentle with the ones I give him, even if they're the flimsiest, cheapest toy I found at a dollar store >w<

Oh also he steals socks, but doesn't rip them up or anything, something that his mom did apparently

@shaneskitten: OHHH OKAY THANK U

One time around Christmas my mom made a big batch of chocolate chip cookies and she left them on the table before we all went to a parade downtown, and when we came back our dog was on the table licking the empty plate

it a miracle our dog is still alive. she's eaten styrofoam, rocks, spiders, tissues, bacon grease( like, just the grease), and god knows what else while we're not looking.

When I was little my parents decided to swap out the dying wooden deck for a patio with planters. This meant adding cement steps to the back door, so we could use it without, y'know, breaking a limb. So the cement guy came over and built the stairs. They were hollow over a wooden frame, because you don't really need solid cement and the extra weight could shift and mess up the foundation of the house.

As soon as the cement guy left, Mom noticed the cat was missing.

Now Pudy (the cat) was really mellow and not easily startled, but unfamiliar loud noises were not her thing. We went all over the house, hit all her hiding places, and there was no sign of her. Not under the beds, not in the closets, not the furnace room, not her hiding place of last resort, the garage.

Mom, being Mom, decided that she had somehow become trapped in the hollow cement steps and phoned up the cement man, demanding that he take a sledgehammer to the steps and free the cat.

He tried to tell her that if she were in there, she wasn't coming out again and he wasn't going to do that.

I came into the kitchen (this was when phones were on walls). "Mom."

Mom told him to get his little hinder over there right now or she'd hire someone who would.

"Mom."

"I'm on the phone with the cement man."

"I know. Mom, she's hiding under your bed. We couldn't see her because her eyes were closed."

There was a long pause.

"I'll call you back," Mom told the cement man, and bolted for the bedroom.

Anyway, Pudy lived to be like 21 and we took a couple of college classes together.