Dog Gone And Done It

comic about canine poetry reading

Dog Gone And Done It

Dog farts. There, I said it. Isn't it about time that we as a society come to grips with the important issue of canine flatulence? Oh sure, a lot of people just want to poo-poo this subject, but not me. I've been there. I've been in the trenches. And I'm not talking about the trenches in France during the Great War. Not to take anything away from the doughboys who suffered under the onslaught of German mustard gas, but have you ever been in your living room enjoying a bowl of popcorn, watching your favorite television show when an eighty-pound black lab lets loose with a silent but deadly gas attack of biblical proportions? I'm talking HASMAT like you've never met. Chernobyl was Paris after a spring shower compared to this. Think of everyone in Boston eating beans for dinner on the same night. Imagine the Jolly Green Giant's jock strap after playing one-on-one against Godzilla for about three hours in an un-air-conditioned gym in Mumbai. Are you starting to smell the picture? And, as your dog slinks off to another room, leaving the scene of the crime with nary a glance back to see how his "best friend" is coping, all you can do is hope that God takes you quickly, and that it's NOT true that All Dogs Go To Heaven. Because at this moment you never, ever want to see that son of a bitch again.