Life after Facebook: Social Networking & Shopping I Local Business Directory
g ate some wild turkey poop and then jumped in my lap and licked my face. As I was telling him to get down, he stuck his tongue in my mouth. My other dog carried a turd in through the dog door.
When I got home, my dog had eaten a full tube of lipstick. She was feeling generous and shared the lipstick with the carpet, the door, and her feet. I had a drag queen Great Dane for a good week or so. And I still have pink carpet.
My beagle, Denny Crane, once smelled an animal on my block and was so determined to chase after it that he broke through and jumped out of a window on the third floor of my parent's house the night before I had a physics final. While I was crying hysterically, as I believed he was dead, my father had to chase him down. When I took him to the ER, the vet said all he had was a chipped tooth!
I let my Labrador come outside with me when I was taking the bins out one morning. I let him go for a wander, thinking he was just going to pee on the telegraph pole at the end of our driveway, like he always does.
Instead, he saw his opportunity and seized it. He kept walking... past the telegraph pole, past the border of our property, up the neighbours' driveway, through their dog flap in the side door... right up to the table where my neighbour was eating his breakfast.
And ate the bacon off his plate.
Went into a strange person's house... and ate their bacon.
My dog got into our bathroom trash can and dragged my dirty tampons throughout the house...while we had company over.
Once our Yorkie and Pomeranian nosed open the pantry, knocked over a Costco-size jug of vegetable oil, lapped that up, then tore open a five-pound bag of raw Basmati rice and ate all of that. My aunt cleaned up the mess but then put them in their shared kennel for bed. After shitting and then rolling around in it all night, all we could see were their eyes.
There was that time when our yellow Lab dug up the buried hamster in the backyard, then promptly came inside and puked it all up.
I was browsing the running section in Nike with my dog, Georgia, who took a liking to the astroturf grass that was part of the central display, and she decided that would be an appropriate time to take a poop in the middle of the store.
He ate an entire rack of cooked pork ribs and got to visit the vet. They gave him three different medicines to make him puke, but he kept his prize down. The staff resorted to playing helicopter with him, which he thought was a wonderful game. It took the entire veterinary staff spinning him for about 20 minutes for him to give it up. I heard later than one of the staff puked before he did.
Left my Macbook closed, with its protective case on, sitting at the foot of my bed while I got ready for class. Walked back into my bedroom to find my Boston terrier had saturated my duvet with urine and ruined the laptop. So much evil in such a tiny squishy body.
My old pit bull once ate half a box of my roommate's paintballs (around 500) and for the next week he had fluorescent orange poops.
My black Lab used to get into all sorts of trouble. She unwrapped all of the Christmas presents on Christmas Eve (even though there was no food under the tree). We woke up to find bits of soggy wrapping paper all over the house.
My dog ate Super Glue. Yes, Super Glue. I threw him in the shower and opened his mouth to try to rinse it out. When I called the emergency vet, all she could do was laugh the entire time. Thankfully he was fine.
This dog has since passed away, but I live in the country and Dixie used to get out and go eat roadkill. One day she apparently scarfed a large portion of well-decomposed deer. That evening, she puked half-digested yuck (including hair and partially identifiable body parts) on my bed. It was juicy and soaked through to the mattress. Horrendous!
I was making hamburger patties and took my wedding band and engagement ring off. My dog, Dingo, tipped the patties onto where my rings were sitting and scarfed it all down, leaving just my wedding band behind. After a week of searching, I never found the engagement ring.
...There was that one time she pooped on the leather, heated car seats and then stepped on it, mashing the turd into the perforations. I couldn't use the heated seat for six months for every time I turned it on, it would heat up the dookie and stink up the car.