It was the extra half that put him over the top

When Punkinhead turned 10 (more years ago than I care to remember) we went to the pound and got a puppy. Nutmeg had not been in the house more than three months before she found a small Punkinhead-sized sock on the floor of a perpetually-messy bedroom (your guess as to whose) and ate it.
This led to a life-threatening blockage in the puppy's intestine which required emergency surgery. At the time, we assumed that the price of the vet bill would be significantly less than years of therapy for Punkinhead for inadvertently killing her new dog. It seemed remarkable that a sock could cause so much trouble.
Not nearly as remarkable as this, though:

[A] 3-year-old Great Dane was miserable and retching when its owners rushed him to a northwest Portland emergency animal hospital.

[...]

[T]he dog had consumed 43 ½ socks. [emphasis added]