Goat Dog

The second time Chloe ate chocolate, I didn't get too upset. When she eats most of the stuffing out of any stuffed animal she comes in contact with, I really don't worry. Ditto with garbage, cardboard, or socks.

And lets not talk about the litter box. Chloe is a connoisseur of the inedible.

But last night when we came home from our daughter-in-law's baby shower, we found she had reached a new level in the dog eating hierarchy.

 Goat Dog!

Getting into the garbage and strewing it around the kitchen is not a new trick.  It usually happens under one of two circumstances: 1) There is some kind of meat or food product in the garbage that she just can't ignore, or 2) Chloe is bored.  Yesterday was both.

I can only imagine the frenzy that overtook her as she tore into the garbage, but what possessed her to grab the can of prescription cat food (the cat has been very ill--see Silent Cat) off the counter and tear into it is beyond me.  She literally ripped open the can and ate the cat food. Really--she ate through the can.

Chloe is fine. No cuts on the tongue. No blood anywhere. Nothing. Nada. Zip.

But we can't find the plastic lid.