The Legend of the Dog Fart

Back when wolves first realized human food scraps were of interest some thirty thousand years ago (or another ungodly long ago number), an evolution began of humans and ultimately dogs sharing food. Humans were divided into those who hunt the food with dogs along side and those who prepared the food with dogs along side. Anything related to food was of great interest to dogs. This has not changed over millennia. It is the great reward system for all living beings. No food, no companionship.

Dogs became partners in hunting, eating, and protecting. Dogs sat quietly near the hunter awaiting prey. Dogs sat next to those preparing food hoping for a dropped morsel. Dogs were ever vigilant awaiting leftovers while humans ate. Dogs sat next to babies protecting them knowing they would one day grow up and feed them. Dogs growled and barked out warnings to intruders just in case they might steal food.

As a partner in this food gathering, protecting, and consumption, dogs have made a nearly silent reassuring announcement of their presence. One can sit with a dog any time day or night smelling the air. The dog will smell thousands of pieces of information. The human with their puny nose can reliably smell only one thing wafting to them from the dog. This smell is reassuring, an announcement of the eating partnership. It is a testament to their living, breathing selves. Human partners the world over can take sustenance in this reassuring drift of scent. I am speaking, of course, of the dog fart which has been a staple of human dog relationships since the dawn of time.

My dog is old now. Her physical efforts are limited. However sitting quietly reading at night with her by my chair, I get reassurance and comfort by the wafting of her dog fart. Only one thing smells like it to my nose. It is a statement of her continued breathing and steady presence. I dread the day when Sheba’s fart touches my nose no more. All humans should celebrate the great and wonderful dog fart. Without it, we would be lost.

Reporting from Life’s front.

Joceile

8.17.23

[Sheba, 2017]

The Scarlett Temperature Index

85+ degrees: “Don’t talk to me! I’m never coming out from under this bed again.”

80-85: “Fine, I can sleep next to the bed or in the corner.”

75-80: “Your lap rates a nightly inspection but that’s it.”

70-75: “You know, the bed is not half bad to sleep on all day. “

65-70: “Your lap is cozy. Has it always been here?”

60-65: “Laying on you warm people at night just works.”

55-60: “Where the hell have you been? I’m freezing my ass off here.”

50-55: “I love you, Joceile. I could sleep on you all day. Ahhhh.”

50 and below: “Your lap is only thing between us and oblivion. No, you don’t have to pee. Hold it!”

*Based on Global Warming Trends and available Scarlett data for the period 2008-2023

 

[Picture of light colored long haired cat laying on intricate multicolored quilt.]