Hungering

I think I need investment advice.
How much would it cost to make a sizable investment in bean futures?
As in green bean futures.
You see, my old dog Wally, 12, has always been a chow hound.
The technical term for this is "food motivated," which doesn't even begin to capture Wally's never-ending quest to ingest.
In his long lifetime Wally has indulged in more different foodstuffs than I can remember. Off the top of my head: two whole boxes of Crispy Creme donuts, several boxes of Raisin Bran cereal, two boxes of chocolate covered cherries, a delightful combination of hay and rabbit poop, an entire tub of glucosamine chondroitin chews, sticks of butter left out to soften, and more cat poop than I care to admit. He even managed to eat two small NylaBones intended for our puppy. If you don't have a dog, NylaBones are considered indestructible.
Most of this either caused massive vomiting, diarrhea, or both.
In addition, he regularly hoovers up any and all crumbs, usually stationing himself right in front of me when I cook.
Wally's proclivity for the forgotten loaf of bread or the tray of cooling cookies makes for an interesting kitchen. A busy baking day will find the top of my refrigerator covered with baked goods, along with the tops of cupboards both in the kitchen and in the dining room.
Of course, if we were smarter, he would never had access to all these foodstuffs in the first place. But all it takes is a forgotten bag of groceries or a not-quite closed door and he's in like Flynn.
Rather than abate with age, his constant hunger has gotten worse, as one of the medications he takes makes him even more frantically hungry. Giving him more dog food would only make him gain weight, which would add to his health issues. So, as per the vet's suggestion, Wally now gets a can of salt-free green beans every noon.
That's a lot of beans
And they haven't helped.
I spent yesterday morning taxiing my daughters here, there, and everywhere.
In between runs I stopped at home to grab a drink of water.
And there on the floor were my "deal" of the week.
Several pounds of 79 cent tomatoes lay scattered across the floor.
He had taste-tested each and every one.

 At first I thought the cats had knocked the bag on the floor to play with the fruit, but a closer look revealed that what I thought were claw marks were actually tooth marks.
A quick check of Wally's mouth and the culprit was identified.

Later in the day I picked up another couple pounds which now rest on top of the fridge with the bread, cookies, and granola.
At least I learned something: Wally doesn't like tomatoes.