My dog once ate my car.  Well, not the whole car, but she tried hard.  At the time, I owned several purebred Alaskan Malamutes, really great dogs, but don't let them get bored.  This time I did. 

Her name was Arctic Satan of MarChris--Satan.  Named so because she was primarily black but had two white horns on  her face.  Normally, she was a very sweet girl.  Not this time, though. We had just moved into a new house, and I had to leave Satan in the garage.  She was in heat and I had a male malamute in the pen that Satan normally shared.             

After a few hours I went into the garage and found Satan, looking bored.  And the car, an Opal station wagon--this was several years ago--looking bare.  Obviously, I'd been gone more than just  the "few hours" I thought I'd left her alone.

Satan had eaten every bit of rubber from the car except from the tires, and I'm not sure she didn't try them.  She ate the rubber from the wiper blades.  She ate the rubber around the radio antenna.  She ate the rubber from the bumpers.  And she ate the rubber from around the windows.

I don't remember how much it cost to repair the car, but Satan didn't seemed harmed at all.  She just smiled at me, those two white horns gleaming above her eyes.  I doubt she even had indigestion.

What could I say to her?  It wasn't her idea to be left alone.  And I loved her all the same.