Monday, October 3, 2011
This dog fart problem is something relatively new, and in fact for quite a while I couldn't figure out which dog was doing it. Mark would wake up in the middle of the night, screaming at the dogs to get the hell out of the bed.
"Somebody farted." he'd whine.
"It wasn't me." I'd mumble back.
You'd definitely know if it was me because mine are announced by loud trumpeting, as if the queen were entering the room.
"It's one of the dogs. Get them out of here."
But I don't throw them out, instead I just turn the ceiling fan on high, roll over and go back to sleep.
Over the past few months I have figured it all out. It is most assuredly Chandler, because I have witnessed Sasha farting, and she farts like I do. With panache. Her little toots are so funny because they make her jump. Poot! And Sasha shoots forward as if jet propelled. I intend to try and get that on video one of these days. For now though, I will just turn the ceiling fan here in my office on high.