Our mutt, Bear, joined the family in June. He's a rescue dog, like my last pup, Artie, so I figured I knew what I was in for. A little extra love, plenty of training and a stable environment were all he'd need. He'd settle in just fine. I'd had a dog before; how different could he be? The answer: Plenty different. Our Bear had been a stray wandering the streets near Woodstock, Ont. The rescue organization we got him from fostered him with a lovely young woman, and he was in great shape when he arrived at our house. It didn't seem like his hardscrabble youth on the streets had too much effect on him. He was fun, bouncy, full of energy and totally delightful. Then the eating began. First, he scavenged scraps on our walks. (Who knew how many chicken bones linger on the margins of our streets?) Then he snatched some steak off the counter when I turned my back. (Can't blame him on that one.) Then he gulped down whole orange sections—peel and all—left unattended on the coffee table. (My bad.) Then acorns. Then sticks. Then poop of various descriptions. (Gag.) Then this:   Yep, that's a rock. A big one. We'd sent Bear to a boarding place he loves the week prior. Unbeknownst to us or the staff there, Bear consumed 12 rocks of assorted sizes and shapes. Over the course of a couple of days, he eliminated 11 of the 12 (I'll spare you the details). The biggest was almost the size of an egg. All I could think was, "How in God's name did he swallow those without choking?" But this one stinker bogged down in his small intestine, requiring emergency surgery and creating a hefty bill. Thanks to our wonderful vet, he pulled through and felt better almost immediately. We (and he) were lucky. But now we have to watch him like a hawk to make sure nothing else weird goes down the hatch. Just like sweet Maggie Mae. See how guilty he looks? Well he should. Has your dog ever eaten rocks? Do you have any training strategies we can try on Bear?