This reminds me of a story (fiction) years ago of a dog named "Entomologist"
who would eat anything. He found some nice squishy Plaster of Paris, just
mixed up, and gulped it down. The story ends with his grave marker, a
strange round shape with a poem scratched on it,
"Here is Entomologist, Interior view.
He bit off more than he could chew."
We might regard this as a cautionary tale.
One of our two cats, and the dog, go through periods of time each spring
when they don't touch their food, they are catching tender little bunnies.
I only wish our dog could deal with the damned coons. Donna