No, really, my dog ate it.

If Jack were a superhero, I’m pretty sure his super-power would be that he could eat through anything and everything that stands in his path.

I say this because he already possesses that talent.

Most dogs are fairly indiscriminate in their eating habits. They don’t mind eating the discarded scraps off of your plate or the fat you cut off the chicken or the bowl of unidentifiable mush that has been in the fridge so long that it may or may not be growing hair. But usually the canine species consumes things that are generally agreed to be edible. Meat. Vegetables. Mush that was at one time meat or vegetables.

But Jack indiscriminate to a new level. Paper, plastic, cardboard, wood- you name it, he’ll eat through it. And not just chew through it, either.  Jack the Super Puppy wouldn’t just have razors for teeth but a digestive track of steel, too, because surprisingly I’ve yet to see any evidence of these non-digestable materials ever coming out the other end, if you know what I mean.

For instance, in September, John Mark, Jack, and I took a little trip to Southern Indiana to visit my family, and stayed halfway at a hotel. Sidenote: if you need to get a hotel that allows dogs, go LaQuinta. It was clean, and had a good breakfast. Well, at least it looked like it had a good breakfast. I wouldn’t know because Jack ate the entire plate of food that I brought up from the lobby. We’re talking an entire bagel, a hardboiled egg with the shell, a plastic packet of cream cheese, and multiple plastic-wrapped chocolate chip muffins. John Mark and I were nervous about how he was going to handle the 6 hour car ride that was left, but Jack slept like a baby in the backseat and we never saw signs of plastic or eggs shell. Not that we looked to hard or anything…

The most recent incident of Jack’s talent was discovered today. We were finding odd items strewn about our back yard: a can of Pirouette chocolate straws, a bag fruit snacks, a half-buried Rice Krispy Treat. And then John Mark found the corner of a box. Return address: Indiana. After a little bit of investigation, we figured out that my church back home sent me a care package choc-full of sugar and carbs just in time for late-night finals cramming. However, I will never see those sugary treats because Jack got to them first. No sign of wrappers or cans or bags. Or even the remainder of the box they were sent in. The only other things we recovered were a few wounded Kit-Kat bars and two wrapped peppermints.

It makes me wonder what other things Jack has eaten that we haven’t noticed. Maybe the blackhole that I am convinced exists under our bed is actually the insatiable omnivore we call our pet.

I haven’t seen my glasses in a month or so. I wonder if….

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