The incredible farting dog and other tales of woe

On my birthday a few weeks ago, I was given a black tee shirt with a giant pictograph of a dog, with pictographic swirls and lines indicating the act of - er - passing wind, as they used to say if they said anything at all.

Just underneath are the words "The dog did it".

You have to live here to understand that one of our three dogs, Ginger, is a walking bag of wind.

Loud wind. Loud enough that there is never any question of the source.

She walks down the hall, and with each step, she farts. She lays down on the bed - and farts. Not a stealth, little dog fart. The sort of fart that unmarried uncles make when they play "pull my finger".

There is never any doubt that the dog did it. And to remove any doubts, she usually repeats the performance. Loudly and deadly.

When I go to sleep, I must make sure that the quieter end is facing me. She has actually been so loud that she has awakened me from a sound sleep. And hiding your face under the blankets is useless.

We have changed that poor dog's diet on the advice of everyone we could think of. Nothing helps. She's just born to fart.

You know you have a problem when you make a constant effort to be upwind of the dog. And notice that even the other dogs do it.

FWIT, you haven't experienced cerebral humor until you have walked around wearing a picture of a farting dog on your chest in the grocery store. Where, of course, you run into at least three parents of children in school with one of your kids. And, not until you have engaged the last one in conversation remembered what you are wearing.

Heck, my kids didn't need playdates, anyway!