We used to have a wholesale nursery in Devon, it was rural, no sanitation.
I was potting up plants when all of a sudden my stomach was struck by a thunderbolt. Out the back to the hedge I scurried. It was almost enough to take the enamel off my teeth, it was really bad.
I returned to the potting bench with sore stomach and slightly worse for wear.
After a moment I thought "where's that bloody dog....?"
I returned to the scene of chemical warfare to find him wolfing it down, again in a drugged up like trance.
When Thomas was a toddler, just out of nappies he needed to go. I dangled him in some long grass. Off we set again. The dirty minger managed to fade away unnoticed back to the place..... It was irresistible to him.
Still, you never know where your next hot meal is coming from do you?