Sorry to disappoint you, but this post isn’t about that guy with the funny hair who’s such a sore subject with people at the moment. Today I want to focus on something that’s a sore subject with us dogs.
Yes, folks, this post is about farts. Or ‘trumps’, as they are sometimes known here in the UK.
Annabelle has a friend – let’s call him Robert – who is a maestro of the top-volume trouser cough. When he breaks wind, his backside applauds its own performance with gleeful ferocity – and we dogs love him for it. Why? Because there’s no way his monster guffs can be blamed on anyone else. His farts are honest – they hold up their hands and say, ‘We came from Robert’s bottom.’
In other words, they can’t be blamed on the DOG.
We dogs get very tired of being blamed for human trumps. I’ll admit we’re notorious for noxious gas, but humans can be just as bad. They blame their silent-but-deadlies on us without the slightest twinge of conscience, knowing full well we won’t deny it.
Pearl isn’t bothered by this outrageous injustice – she’s proud of her farts and more than happy to claim responsibility for other people’s.
She’s even been known to produce audible emissions – unusual in a dog – and when she slips out an SBD you’d think a lower astral entity had dropped by for a visit.
But I like to think of myself as a creature of refinement who isn’t in the habit of doing such things. I’m a literary Lurcher, an animal of keen intellect and highly advanced spiritual awareness; I exist far beyond the lower planes where intestinal gas has its dwelling place. It’s bad enough when I occasionally let one go and everyone cries ‘Oh, Millie!‘ and flaps their hands in disgust, but to have them do it when I’m innocent of the crime is totally unacceptable.
So please, humans, stop blaming your dogs for your own filthy habits. It’s dishonest and unfair, and we simply don’t deserve it. One of these days a dog is going to say ‘It wasn’t me!’ and give you the shock of your lives.
Storm image found here