This is something that has made me “go hmmm…” my entire life.
For those of you who know me, well “know me” because you follow me on social media. You know that we have three dogs. What you might not know from the photos, and videos we post, is that our dogs all have gas. In fairness to them, it was significantly worse when we had them on different animal protein, it took us many years of figuring out what DIDN’T give them the rancid, you want to die in their presence gas.
Back in those days, we would be in the middle of a dinner party in our house, and because we’ve always gravitated to open concept homes, the space was shared with the dogs, no matter where their beds were in relation to the dining room. In the early years of us not knowing exactly what the hell was giving them the sort of gas that would fill your mouth should you be in the middle of talking when one of them let loose, it was mortifying to have people in. We never knew when the gas was going to strike. Or how often in the course of the evening it would happen. Or how many episodes would occur. But what we could almost always guarantee was it WOULD HAPPEN, and it would be God awful. Like burn your eyes awful.
Our friends/guests had no option but to acknowledge it, because their gas was that pungent. That offensive. Plus I think our company wanted to let themselves off the hook immediately, lest we think they were the stink offenders. The smell would take over the entire floor of the house. Most often it was silent, so you wouldn’t know it was coming. You might be at the table enjoying a lovely glass of Barolo, chomping down on one of my homemade tacos, or infamous beef stroganoff. When all of a sudden your nostrils would flare, and fill with the disgusting odor, then your eyes would begin to tear, and everybody would put their forks down while reaching for their napkins to cover their mouths, in an attempt to stop the smell assault. Other times it would be accompanied by a soft, pffft sound, which I for one am always thankful for, at least this alerts you, giving you enough time to protect yourself, by covering your mouth before it’s too late.
To assure our dinner guests that we’re not savages, and that we took the dogs passing wind issue extremely seriously, we would yell out at them, with animated, loud reactions. “GUYS!! SERIOUSLY. SOOOOOO GROSS!! YOU BOYS ARE DISGUSTING” always getting their attention, ears perked, eyes locked on ours. Whenever we locked eyes I couldn’t help but wonder, does he know? Does he know that I know that he dropped a bomb? Does he know how disgusting and offensive the smell is? Or is he, as one comedian joked, just listening to a muzak version of Wind Beneath my Wings inside his dog brain?
Hmmm? Hmmm? Hmmm?