The dog had a bad day yesterday. Apparently, the miniatures are prone to gastrointestinal issues. He was out in the yard, eating grass in the morning. Didn’t want to do much all day. Didn’t even eat dinner. He just wasn’t feeling good.
Come bed-time, he clambered up onto the bed between me and my Bride, then rolled over onto his back. What the heck.
I ran a hand down below his rib-cage and began a slow, light-pressure, counter-clockwise rub on his belly. After a few minutes, a huge, silent but deadly dog fart emerged.
Due to my Bride’s allergies, we have an air cleaner on my side of the bedroom to keep the pollen levels somewhat reasonable. Unfortunately, this meant that the dog fart drifted, like an invisible cumulous cloud, across my nose and into the cleaner. It seemed to take forever.
And as though I’d unclogged a hose, fart after fart wafted across. I really ought to invest in a respirator. Finally, just as I was thinking of decamping to a couch downstairs, the parade ended. The dog groaned, then threw himself against my side and curled up.
He’s full of energy today. My nostrils haven’t yet fully recovered.