The Canine Wind

Really 300xI’m not normally a sensitive fellow, but there is a double standard going on at my house, and it’s starting to get to me. The dog passes gas every time she jumps onto the bed or the couch. She pays no attention to what she’s done. There are no guilty looks or apologies. Nothing, not even a single acknowledgement of her deed. It’s as if her flatulence is a windy blessing to be quietly admired or, at the least, too inconsequential to recognize. This in and of itself is not a problem. Yes, it’s a little annoying in a bourgeois sort of way, but I can deal with a ‘let them eat cake’ attitude, especially from an animal willing to digest dinner multiple times. The irony amuses me.

But I draw the line when the dog follows her indifference with personal snubs. Heaven forbid a man, in his own home mind you, has consequences from a bean burrito. We can have the wind beneath our wings any time we get up on the furniture, but if the man of the house follows suit, the dog gets up and leaves. It’s like a canine exodus where I’m Egypt and anywhere else is the promised land. Once she went into the bedroom, closed the door, and put up a quarantine sign. I realize her nose is more sensitive than mine, but it’s not like I can’t smell what she’s done. I don’t treat the dog like a leper. Don’t judge me, you pumpkin-eating, decoration-chewing, bed-stealing fur ball. I’m going to give that dog a piece of my mind, as soon as she returns from her self-imposed methane exile, and I’m going to have extra chili for dinner. Let’s see her get away from that.

Source: David Swann