Tucker, a golden retriever, loves salad. I’m not sure how he acquired the taste for it, but he’ll eat it all except for carrots. He also does that (fairly common, I guess?) adorable head tilt when he’s confused by or curious about something. I think he also knows how to be a pain in the ass to anger my dad, because he will purposely ignore my his orders to do something, then happily obey my exact demands 
Can this this pet thread have pictures? (hint, hint)
Our cat loves to eat olives.
We have 5 little dogs in the house and they all have their weird things they do but one is particularly funny. When one of the other dogs is getting attention, a Yorkie (Harley) will kick the offender with one of his rear legs stretched out…like a donkey kick but with just one leg. It’s hilarious.
Our previous Yorkie had a silent bark. If we had a treat, we would tell him to sit then speak. He used all of the energy of a real bark but there was no sound. He knew how to bark because if you were a squirrel, you were dead meat but if it was for a treat, he’d give us the “silent bark”.
Mr Spock (28lb flamepoint Siamese mix) sits up and begs when he wants attention. I’ve tried to explain that it’s not catly behavior and not in keeping with his name to no avail.
Chernobyl, the outside cat who adopted us, will not eat anything other than dry kibble. Canned food? No. Tuna? No.
My cat, Dominic (26 lb. tuxedo, and not that fat - just huge) will eat apples, grapes, peaches, bananas, pears, blueberries, watermelon, mangoes, honeydew, and just about any other fruit except for pineapple and citrus.
He also likes his kibble. But he rarely can be persuaded to try dairy, meat, or fish - not even tuna.
We have decided he is a reincarnated Buddhist cat.
Our boxer mix loves milkshakes, to the point that even getting out the blender causes much tail wagging. Whenever we get it down, he will helpfully point at the freezer where the ice cream lives.
He will also outfox the other dog occasionally. When the other one has not quite finished dinner, the boxer will go to the window and bark excitedly. When the younger dog goes to investigate, the boxer will steal the last bites of food.
I had a parakeet who loved potato chips so much he would literally go nuts at the sound of a bag being opened up or crinkled. He would start to shriek at full volume, climb the walls of the cage, hang upside down. When you opened the cage door to give him one he would lunge at the chip and tear into it with great ferocity like he hadn’t eaten for a month.
Not so much food as it is glasses of liquid. All three SuperKitties think that a glass of anything sitting on a table is there just for them - including red and white wines. And yes, they’ll have themselves a taste of it, thank you very much. Maggie also thinks Woodpecker Cider beer is the bee’s knees, so I have to be VERY careful with her.
It’s gotten so bad that instead of drinking out of glasses, I use water bottles and travel coffee mugs just so I can have my water to myself! If I don’t, and I take my attention off of them, I either have a cat face-down in a glass right next to me, or a minor flood after they tip over the glass trying to get down to the water level.
It seems to run in the family. When I was little, we had a dog that had a drinking problem of another kind. My parents used to throw a boatload of parties back in the day and invariably, clean-up would not take place until the next morning.
Somewhere along the way, our beagle mix decided that watered-down glasses of scotch, rye, bourbon or whiskey were quite tasty and she would suck down whatever she could reach on coffee tables and such before mother would get up in the morning.
Mom finally figured out what was going on one morning when she caught the dog red-tongued, so to speak – and half-lit from the booze! After that, she made sure the glasses were in the sink before calling it a night.
My cat begs for cherry tomatoes. First he will bat them around the whole downstairs for a while, then finally knock it into a corner and chew it up. He also will not drink water out of a water dish; he has to have it out of a cup (a red plastic cup for preference) or a trickle out of a faucet.
Also, one of my sister’s dogs was a rescue who was mostly tied up and starved so she was terrible about filching food for the first couple years they had her. One time she got hold of a container of sour cream, got the lid off, licked the container clean, and got the lid back on. My sister only noticed because the container was A) light and B) had a single tooth mark on it.
Al will come demand his dinner and, quite often, our response is, “Al, shut up, it’s not dinnertime yet.” Then this ensues:
“Mrow!”
“Al, shut up.”
“Mrrrowww!”
“Al!! Shut UP!!”
{silent meow while staring directly at us}
He knows he won’t get in trouble for meowing without making a sound - it usually gives us the giggles and then we get up and go feed him. Our cat, folks - the silent film star.
I’ve got a fruit-loving feline, too. Bananas and green grapes are her favorites. She’s been know to steal a banana from the counter and just gnaw on it till the peel bursts, and then she eats the whole thing, licking the peel clean.
For those who are feeding their cats grapes, there is some worry that they may be as toxic to cats as they are to dogs. Since the reason for the toxicity is not known and can vary from grape to grape or cat to cat, most vets advise not giving cats grapes or raisins. Please don’t risk poisoning the kitties 
More links
http://drnelsonsveterinaryblog.com/2010/05/29/grapes-and-raisins-may-cause-renal-failure-in-dogs-and-cats.aspx
http://www.wisegeek.com/which-foods-are-toxic-to-cats-and-dogs.htm
My grand ol’ lady, Cleo, loves to drink my tea. Cold, hot, doesn’t matter. I drink caffiene free tea here at the house now because she HAS to have a big drink of it. She also must have a big bowl of water in the bathtub to drink out of, even though we got her one of those 5 gallon pet fountains that filters the water and all that.
Oh, and donuts? Don’t even THINK the word. I’ve never seen a cat so into donuts [cake only please]. She got pissed at me once when I was having a bagel for breakfast and when I gave her a taste, she gave me the dirtiest look!
My ex-Boss had a Yorkie that went nuts over the sound of a plastic bag. If you brought a bag into the office and it made the slightest noise, Stormy would be at your feet, barking and growling. Lower it to his level and he would grab on wouldn’t let go. Lift it up, and that dog would hang on. I use to make noises with a plastic bag just to tease him. The dog absolutely hated them.
I think in a former life he was suffocated in a plastic bag.
My boxers do this to each other over bed space. If one is sleeping in the choice spot (this changes from hour to hour) the other will bark at the door and when they jump up to see what’s happening barking dog will sneak in and steal the spot.
Mojo is also the most uncoordinated dog EVER. He can’t scratch himself where he’s aiming. He’s got a scratch on his eye right now from trying to scratch his ear which is less amusing but usually he just flails his paw around near his head and looks pathetic until someone scratches his ear for him. He’s actually fallen over while trying to scratch.
Dolly and Scoutie were my dogs when I was growing up. They were a brother and sister pair of mini Schnauzers, and they could not have been more different. And they both had their fair share of weird eccentricities.
Scoutie was as big as Dolly was small. Actually, at one point, he outweighed her 3 to 1. Dolly weighed 11 pounds, Scout was 33. Scoutie went on a diet after that little “reveal”, but he was still always a big guy compared to his sister.
Dolly was hyper and constantly running around, Scout was lazy and only motivated by food or companionship with his humans. Dolly absolutely abhored the “pool sweep” vacuum, and would chase it tirelessly when she was outside. Rain, sun, snow, she didn’t care. She’d chase that old pool monster, and try to bite at any splashes it made.
Scout was a solid black schnauzer, and if you’ve ever seen a schnauzer, you know that they have these little “beard” that grows under their chin. Scout’s beard and eyebrows went snow white as he got older, giving him a very distinguished look of an old gentleman. Scout decided, after awhile, that he no longer wanted to do his “business” in the backyard. So instead, he’d whimper and pester my stepdad to take him out the front door so he could go in the front yard instead. Apparently the back yard was just not fit to shit in.
Dolly had a fetish for dirty underwear. She just adored them, and would carry them around to lick, lovingly, in full view of anyone, with absolutely no shame. Talk about an embarrassing habit for a dog. She’d dig through the dirty laundry bin to find any underwear that appealed to her. Eventually we had to start locking all the laundry in a closet, but she’d still find some occasionally.
Scout had a love for the one thing that dogs should never eat. Chocolate. Someone once gave me one of those 2lb Whitman Sampler boxes for a Christmas gift. Scout managed to access the kitchen counter, retrieve the chocolates, opened the box, and devoured every last piece (except for the 2 or 3 that were wrapped in foil). You’d think that much chocolate would be enough to kill a 25 lb dog, and it did seem to make him feel sick, but he was okay the next day after a major bout of diarrhea. Probably would have done it again without a second thought. Maybe not one of nature’s smarter dogs.
A couple of years later, my stepdad received a Christmas gift of 50 of those little foil-wrapped chocolate liqueurs, of which he’d eaten just a handful. Remembering the Whitman’s Sampler debacle, Stepdad wisely stowed the liqueurs on a high shelf, in a closed closet, in a room that was inaccessible to the dog (blocked off with a baby gate). How did the dog get in there, find the liqueurs, and eat every last one of them, foil and all? Nobody really knows.
What we DO know is that Scout got really shitfaced drunk. When we got home that night, Scout came to greet us, stumbling and waddling, bleary-eyed. He barked at the wall for a minute, and then belatedly realized that his humans were home, and that he was probably in big trouble. He made a rather pathetic show of tucking his (stub) tail between his legs and looking guilty. Then he passed out cold on the kitchen floor. (thud…snore) It seemed pretty clear that Dolly had helped him knock over the baby gate, but apparently did not partake. Maybe she was just the designated driver.
Believe it or not, he was okay. Gave us a big scare, but he was apparently none the worse for wear. After that, we pretty much had a chocolate ban - no large amounts of Scout’s drug of choice were permitted in the house.
New discovery: It turns out my new pitbull has a taste for Gevalia French Roast with half-n-half and Bailey’s. She also drank some of my orange juice the other day. I think she will drink anything in my glass, so I’ll have to be careful with her.
Forgotten idiosyncrasy: My now-dearly departed Boston used to love popping bubble wrap. Anytime I’d get a box and bring it in the house, she’d go nuts trying to help me open it. As soon as I folded the flaps back, she’d dive in, grab any bubble wrap, and run off with it. She’d take it to a safe corner somewhere, stand on it, and grab a corner with her teeth and puuuullllll until she heard the bubbles popping. Then she’d dance around on top of the bubble wrap and pop the bubbles with her feet. Then another grab with the teeth, until I took it away from her. She was so enthusiastic about this, she managed to teach the rescued Boston the same thing, so after I got him, I’d have bubble wrap popping parties in stereo.
Another one for Feather - she likes to lick plastic bags, and her paw. She really gets into Zen Mode doing it - lick, lick on the bag, then lick the paw, then back to the bag, then the paw.
