Once upon time, I saw a Newfoundland ("bear puppy") devour a SmartCar. It was one of the funniest things I have ever witnessed. I never got to see the outcome; I pulled out of the parking lot before the owner got back. I always wondered what happened to the dog and the car.
(Note: I have not seen the car around town. There are only two SmartCars in our area, and I have not seen the blue one since the dog noshed on its innards.)
I am pleased to report, however, that I have seen the dog! His name is Bruce and he really IS the size of a small black bear.
I was walking the Wee Ginger Beastie to camp this morning, and saw a woman being dragged along by a dog the size of a Volkswagen. It was clear that the dog was walking the woman, and not the other way around. She could have no more influenced the direction that dog was going than she could influence the tides.
"BEAR PUPPY!" was shrieked, along with the universal sign of toddler joy: arms thrown upward in victory and enthusiasm. Hearing the shriek, the dog angled towards us amiably to investigate, pulling his owner behind him. He lowered his truly enormous head to snuffle at the toddler, who showed an astonishing lack of fear at being investigated by a creature who has a head as large as her torso.
While Ginge and Bruce bonded over pretzels, I asked the dreaded question: "Did I see your dog gnaw the Hell out of your SmartCar a couple of months ago?"
"That was my ex's car. He's a pretentious hipster douche; after Bruce ate his car he told me it was the dog or him, so I told him to go fuck himself."
We exchanged vague, generic pleasantries, and as she lives a few blocks away, we're sure to run in to each other again. Perhaps a play date for Bruce and Wee Ginger Beastie -- she could probably saddle him and ride him like some sort of bizarre BattleBear.