Back in 2001, we had a rat terrier named Buster. He would find beer cans people had thrown out along the road and chew them up into small pieces. I could never understand how he could chew those cans to pieces without cutting his mouth. But then one day I was on the computer when my wife can hurrying into the room, all excited, and told me, "There's something wrong with Buster." She thought he was bad sick. So I went in the living room only to see him staggering around, ran into the wall, made his way to the front door, and when I let him out, he tumbled down the steps. I told my wife, "He's drunk." I found a halfway chewed up beer can in the yard, but he obviously found a full, or partially full, one. He puked in the front yard, made it back up the steps, and when I let him in, he went straight to bed and slept for several hours. Then he was OK.:laughing: But I sure wish I'd had a video of him that day.:laughing: