Source: The Independent


by Jerry Della Femina

June 19, 2013

What is it with me and dogs that are flatulent?

Now my wonderful little pooch Shlomo (who, I’m sad to say, didn’t even send me a card on Father’s Day) has turned into a farting machine.

Shlomo is the sweetest dog and the love of my life. When I sit down to watch television he jumps onto my lap and we watch together until one or both of us falls asleep. Sometimes it’s 1AM and Jimmy Fallon is on and I wake up and say, “Wake up, Shlomo, it’s bedtime,” and since dogs can’t tell time he jumps down from my lap, looks up and greets me, tail wagging, as though I had just walked into the room.

Then when I climb into bed Shlomo falls asleep on the floor on my side of the bed.

Lately I have been awakened from a sound sleep by a strong smell that threatens to peel the paint off my bedroom walls. Shlomo has flatulence and it’s not noisy but instead, out of nowhere, one is overwhelmed by this incredible odor.

If any of you reading this has a cure for doggie flatulence, please send me an email. Hurry, it’s getting pretty bad. My biggest fear is that Shlomo’s condition will become as bad as my old dog’s, the late but unlamented Oreo. While Shlomo loves people, Oreo was a real bitch and she hated people.

Oreo’s flatulence caused many a hilarious, embarrassing moment.

My favorite one took place on a Sunday afternoon many, many years ago when I decided to take Oreo for a walk on Madison Avenue. I ran into a woman I know ever so slightly, who is something of a snob. She is very rich, very waspy and very proper.

The woman took one look at Oreo and said, “What a cute little dog.” She then knelt to pet her and that’s when Oreo let loose.

The smell hit the woman first and I saw a look of pain on her face. By the time it came up to me I looked down in horror at the woman. Did she think it was me?

Of course the woman was thinking I thought it was her. It’s that silent stuff that’s so hard to trace and so deadly.

I started looking at my shoe. “Did I step on something?” I asked too loudly. “Maybe it was me,” she said, looking at her heel. Oreo just stared at the two of us. Can dogs smile? I thought she had a smile on her muzzle.

Then I said, “It could be the cheese. I’ve been feeding her sliced Velveeta cheese, as a treat.”

“Oh,” said the woman nervously, “I have a problem when I eat cheese, too.” Now, this is a very attractive woman and this was more than I wanted to know about her digestive system.

Oreo let loose again. The woman looked like she was going to throw up.

“I think I had better go now,” I said.

The woman, holding her breath, said, “I’m late.”

“So am I,” I said.

Then, after an awkward second, which seemed like an hour, we went our separate ways.

As I turned around I started to giggle. I think I heard her giggle, too. I haven’t seen her since.

If you have that doggy flatulence cure, please hurry.