My farting dog

I love that on this blog, I can stray from all the seriousness of newspaper articles and have a little fun with less-than-tasteful topics.
Farting dogs are no big surprise to any of you, I’m sure. Anyone who’s owned a dog knows of their ability to empty a room. We all share our stories — inevitably, you run into the person who’s dog appears to scare itself when it toots.
“He jumped up and looked back at his butt like, ‘What the heck was that?” says an adoring and laughing dog owner.
My farting dog story goes back to when Sensi was a puppy. Years later, it’s still funny.
Brent was living with a friend at the time and his friend used an automatic feeder for his two dogs. Sensi, about four months old, was still getting puppy chow in a bowl a couple times a day.
We knew that Sensi couldn’t figure out how to work the automatic feeder. It was an antique-looking kind of feeder where the dog pushes in the door to access the food. Sensi never seemed to bother with it. He was always happy enough with his puppy chow delivered via doggie food dish.
We never had any sort of concern about him learning to use it either. We figured that at some point, he’d just start eating out of it.
I was at work — back then, working as a waitress — one night when Sensi first figured out how to use the automatic feeder.
I remember getting there at about 10 p.m. and my eyes went directly to my dog, who was splayed out on a pile of laundry and looked fatter than I’d ever seen him before. He didn’t even get up to greet me, just smiled and panted while I crouched down to pet him.
“What is wrong with him?” I asked Brent. “He looks bloated.”
Brent and his friend began cracking up.
“I didn’t think it was that noticeable!” Brent said, laughing.
The guys filled me in on how Sensi had learned to use the automatic feeder. By the time they realized he was standing there eating from it, only God knows how long he had been gorging himself.
They let him continue eating for a while, at first a bit proud that he’d learned how to use it. But then, they realized he wasn’t stopping and eventually they had to pull him away from the food trough.
It was all over for Sensi by then though.
Brent said Sensi had gone to the bathroom several times that evening, but it wasn’t enough. Sensi was bloated and he retired to laying on the laundry pile, as stretched out as can be, and hadn’t moved much since.
As they were filling me in, Sensi ripped a huge fart, sighed as if he were relieved and rolled over to lay on his other side.
The guys started cracking up and I was laughing too.
“He’s been doing that all night!” Brent told me. “Ever since he finished up going to the bathroom, he’s just been laying there and he farts, sighs and rolls over. Wait 10 or 15 minutes — he’ll do it again.”
And he did, like clockwork. Fart, sigh, roll over. Fart, sigh, roll over.
Not so different from us humans, I suppose.
It was a long and smelly night, but Sensi was feeling a world better by the morning.
He continued to eat out of the automatic feeder, but never again did he overeat.