About 20 years ago, I had a female beagle we rescued from the pound. She was a sweet, lovable dog, but also a psycho, highly driven, exquisite nose skills, probably would have been a great hunting dog, but we were trapped in suburbia. She loved to roll around in stinky stuff, probably would have eaten a live skunk butt-first, actually sought out our used underwear out of the laundry to chew out the crotches (We had to actually lock up our dirty laundry, it was crazy). So, one day, I had her in the car, and went through the drive thru at a McDonalds (I know, I know...) She was a definite chow hound, would eat just about everything thrown her way, and I didn't want her whining and staring at me as I wolfed down a double-quarter-pounder. She happily ate her plain hamburger patty, but she would.not.touch.the.bun. Did.not.recognize.it.as.food.