I'm beginning to suspect that we did not find a rare breed dog in NYC's largest shelter, marked as the wrong breed, by happy chance. I think she was a breeder reject. Someone took one whiff of her ass and said, "No way in hell is anyone going to pay thousands of dollars to smell that bitch on a regular basis." Either that or she was born in the wild, like the American Dingo she is, and someone noticed a reek, went searching for the source, ("Why is there a rotting fish covered in shit in the woods?") found her, and thought it would be a great joke to set her loose on an unsuspecting household.
We noticed it the night we got her. The ride home was bumpy, and every bump I hit (in my MINI Cooper S convertible) made the dog fart. We felt bad for her, foolish morons that we are. "Mom, this dog keeps farting Every. Time. We. Hit. A. Bump. Can you Please drive better?!?!" She was terrified, so we figured she was a nervous farter, and the food in the shelter probably wasn't good for her. Our crabby old dog eats this premium grain free shit, so we figured Ms. Gas Ass would do better on that too.
Seven stinky months later, the damn dog still farts when she's nervous. And when she's annoyed. And when she's playing too rough. And when she sleeps. My favorite though, is when sneaking around makes her fart. My darling son likes to unlatch one of her crate doors at night sometimes. If Stinky Dingo wakes up, she's learned it's beneficial to nudge her doors, just in case it's one of those nights she can escape. She does it quietly, then very s.l.o.w.l.y. makes her way to the bedroom, carefully walking just out of my sight. When she reaches the comforter on the floor, she eschews her usual flop, writhe, writhe, scritch, scratch, sigh and gently eases herself to the ground. Inevitably, BBBWWWWAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPP follows. Then the stench hits my nose, I decide she's not cute enough to suffer a migraine over and I escort her back to her crate. (Stinky farts give me migraines. Yes, I am lucky.)
Sometimes she eases her way onto my son's bed. Since I don't have to smell her when she's in there, I let it go. Until I need to use the bathroom across the hall from his room, that is. As I walk down the hall, my nasal passages are assaulted by her stink cloud. Usually I've waited til the last possible second to pee, so I do that before taking her back to her crate. She'll halfway open an eye, pretending she's asleep and hasn't noticed me. SSSQQQQQUUUUUUAAAAAAACCCCCCKKKKKKK. Subtle. I've left her in there already, but by the time I had to pee again, I could see the fucking fart cloud hanging outside his room, bearing her distinctive fishy aroma. Although my son may deserve it, I can't be that cruel to his still developing brain, so I escort her back to her crate, squeaking as she walks.
Anyone want a dog?
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