A Digression: The Joy of Pets

My Boston Terrier Elwood frequently visits my lap, sometimes for a better view of his surroundings and sometimes to nestle in. As with all Bostons he has an active flatulence schedule. That's because of the way their mouths are shaped and the amount of air they take in when drinking water or eating.

Once Elwood settles in on my lap, a series of squeaks are emitted from his backside, happily not silent and not deadly. Everybody's happy.

That is unless I happen to fart. Elwood's reaction is instantaneous.

Elwood leaps off my lap in a panic, leaving behind four footprint bruises, and rushes from the room.

Really?

* * *

A friend of mine had a regal standard poodle. In spite of their reputation for brains, this dog never figured out where her own farts came from. If she happened to fart, she'd jump around and glare into the room, "Who did that!"'

* * *

Early in our marriage, we had two Pekingese. Fanny was a gorgeous little dog, but a dog of little brain. When we'd had her about six years, Perry and I were sitting in the back yard with a friend. Fanny began to do her Number Two business near us.

" Now watch what she does," Perry said." When she's done, she's going to sniff it, jump sideways, and run to the other side of the yard."

Whaaat? I'd lived with this dog for six years and had never noticed this strange behavior. Sure enough, when Fanny was done, she sniffed, jumped sideways and ran to the bottom of the yard.

Well, I'll be damned.