I ponder that it is a good thing there are basic minimums for toxicity before one’s dog keels over from ingesting, say, chocolate.
I’m for renaming Duke with his real name: Bandit. Everything is fair game for him. Today he’s snatched one pair of reading glasses, a kitchen towel, two tennis shoes (unmatched), a sock, and part of my chocolate flavored flax meal muffin. I know there’s not enough chocolate in there to poison him, but there’s that sinking feeling when I realize he’s gotten on the table – again – while my back was turned, has gotten the last bit of food and is now running and gulping simultaneously. I’ve never had a dog I had to watch so closely. He reminds me of a small version of Chet from the Bernie and Chet mystery series. I’m sure if he could, he’d eat tennis balls as well.