Sometimes mystery is a good thing.

I’m over at my inlaws’ place for a nice dinner and offer to help my mother-in-law carry a coffee table up from the basement. So its Mr. Socket (a young and friendly golden lab), mom, a coffee table, and me climbing the stairs slowly to avoid scratching the walls. About halfway up, I hear a right ripe gasser. Normally I’d laugh and congratulate whoever let rip, but this was not the time or place. Mom muttered something, looked sort of awkward (because of the carrying the table?), glared at Mr. S, and that was all that happened. Was it a dog fart or something much, much worse?

Truthfully, I don’t want to know who done it. I hope it was the dog, but I’d really just not know.

Fart-Meter:

• Stink factor: 5/10
• Volume: 6/10
• Characteristics: slow-moving stairwell = bad fart dissipation
• Trip to the John solved it: Mr. S went outside, but who knows?
• Dog Fart Fuel: puppy chow (I hope)
• Casualties: me