I farted so loud and long, it called the dog. He was in the living room and I was in my office. I should just leave it at that but I won’t because how does that even happen. Not the farting. But the dog thinking for any reason, I was calling him in that manner. Then, he ran to my desk and looked at me like, “You called? What? What did you want? What do you want now? Or now?”
“I had gas, Dog,” I said. “Some really B-A-D gas. It might have killed an elderly person if they had tried that. Or maybe Rite Aid has a shot they can give elderly people to stop gastric explosions of that magnitude. They have a shot for shingles.”
The dog just looked at me like, “So, do I get a treat for this? Now. How about now?”
I got up from my desk chair and gave him a treat. Afterward I thought about what I had done, and I realized I was training the dog to come when someone farted.