Growing up I had a friend named Kevin. Who had a dog named Winston.
Winston was not the brightest dog.
Kevin's family always had Italian breads with dinner. You know, the long kind with a hard crust.
One afternoon Kevin and I were playing Dungeons & Dragons at their kitchen table while his mother got dinner ready. The usual long loaf of bread was lying on the counter.
At some point, while Kevin's mom was chopping up veggies, she bumped into the loaf and knocked it to the floor.
Winston grabbed it in the middle and made a beeline for the doggie door. Due to a terrible sense of spatial judgment, he didn't realize the bread was longer than the opening was wide, and tried to run through at warp speed.
It looked like a guy getting clotheslined. The impact dislocated his jaw. I ended up going to the emergency vet with them.
Winston was eventually fine, but never tried to steal a crusty bread again.