Bad Dog!!!
Last night in bed I thought of The Phosgene Kid. Not erotically, I must hasten to add, but for reasons which will become evident as you read this missive.
I have an aging Labrador named Papu. Anyone who has ever owned a Lab will agree that they are highly intelligent; unfortunately, along with intelligence comes deviousness and a generally sneaky disposition.
In my village, people store frozen "country food" such as caribou, seal and fish in their porches and shacks. These comestibles are economically important to most families up here, and make up most of the daily diet. Unfortunately for them, and luckily for my dog, the doors to these natural freezers are not always closed.
To make a long story short, someone let the dog out, and she slunk around the neighbourhood looking for a free scoff. She must have made off with some seal meat or fat, and I saw her return towards our house, tail guiltily drawn up between her legs, and mouth full of something vaguely edible. Despite my best efforts to get her back into the house (coaxing, banging her food dish, swearing and heaving things at her) it took me a good three hours to finally get her inside, by which time she had gorged herself.
Flash forward to my bedtime. I was gently drifting away into a daydream of skillfully circumventing the alcohol restrictions up here, when my olfactory nerves suddenly recoiled in a shock far worse than than sniffing pure ammonia. Where the fuck was that stench coming from?
There is nothing viler in this world than dog farts, but the vilest of the vile are dog farts when the canine in question has eaten seal or walrus meat. We are talking about a sinus-searing, paint- peeling, tear-inducing, stomach-wrenching, panic-inducing, gag-reflex-producing, nostril-cauterizing odor so incredibly hideous that I would rather have died from oxygen starvation than draw another breath.
What to do? What to do? I kicked her out of the bedroom, but she nosed her way back in shortly thereafter (got to fix that door catch). I moved to various couches and vacant beds around the house, but she followed, suffering from canine geriatric separation anxiety syndrome or something. I couldn't chain her outside for the night because she barks incessantly at rival dogs, both real and imagined, and I could picture my neighbours reach for old Mr. 22 by the time midnight rolled around.
So I opened my window, put on an extra blanket, and suffered. And thought of the Phosgene Kid and his gas mask.
I have an aging Labrador named Papu. Anyone who has ever owned a Lab will agree that they are highly intelligent; unfortunately, along with intelligence comes deviousness and a generally sneaky disposition.
In my village, people store frozen "country food" such as caribou, seal and fish in their porches and shacks. These comestibles are economically important to most families up here, and make up most of the daily diet. Unfortunately for them, and luckily for my dog, the doors to these natural freezers are not always closed.
To make a long story short, someone let the dog out, and she slunk around the neighbourhood looking for a free scoff. She must have made off with some seal meat or fat, and I saw her return towards our house, tail guiltily drawn up between her legs, and mouth full of something vaguely edible. Despite my best efforts to get her back into the house (coaxing, banging her food dish, swearing and heaving things at her) it took me a good three hours to finally get her inside, by which time she had gorged herself.
Flash forward to my bedtime. I was gently drifting away into a daydream of skillfully circumventing the alcohol restrictions up here, when my olfactory nerves suddenly recoiled in a shock far worse than than sniffing pure ammonia. Where the fuck was that stench coming from?
There is nothing viler in this world than dog farts, but the vilest of the vile are dog farts when the canine in question has eaten seal or walrus meat. We are talking about a sinus-searing, paint- peeling, tear-inducing, stomach-wrenching, panic-inducing, gag-reflex-producing, nostril-cauterizing odor so incredibly hideous that I would rather have died from oxygen starvation than draw another breath.
What to do? What to do? I kicked her out of the bedroom, but she nosed her way back in shortly thereafter (got to fix that door catch). I moved to various couches and vacant beds around the house, but she followed, suffering from canine geriatric separation anxiety syndrome or something. I couldn't chain her outside for the night because she barks incessantly at rival dogs, both real and imagined, and I could picture my neighbours reach for old Mr. 22 by the time midnight rolled around.
So I opened my window, put on an extra blanket, and suffered. And thought of the Phosgene Kid and his gas mask.
posted by nanuk at 7:05 AM Permafrost
8 Comments:
Excellent stuff! My labs would eat anything. Literally. Fish hooks was an experience I'll not forget.
The fish hooks, I'll bet, turned out to be a very expensive "meal" what with the vet bills and all.
Yep. His most expensive meal ever. Mine too, come to think of it.
I laughted so much reading this! Thanks for the story! :)
See, it is more then a fashion statement!
Good grief, Nanuk! I'm surprised your dog didn't have the entire village after her! Scarfing down their precious foodstuffs indeed!
As for the rest... egads! I bet even PK's gas mask wouldn't have helped. Ugh.
(By the way, couldn't get here the entire day.)
I dunno what hubby ate but goddamn could I use a lil help over here!
too funny. And letsw face it - Labs are the worst - flatulence their middle name.
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