My Little Giraffe, Part 2

How is it possible I wrote that very long post about Miss Elsie, my best friend for 12 years... and never even mentioned her most notable feature? (I'm sure my family is wondering! Is it chemo brain, or plain old-fashioned denial?)

Well, it may have been caused by her health/digestive issues, but Elsie was famous for her incredible silent farts. Over the years I tried every dog food on the market, fed her more, less, at different times, with her medicine and without. Nothing worked. I'm not even so sure they were farts; they were so noxious, there may be a different word for them. At family gatherings, someone would suddenly notice the the excruciatingly foul odor, the invisible toxic cloud, and in a heartbeat, the room would have to be vacated. I've seen houseplants try to escape by hurling themselves off of shelves.

I remember one incident in particular, here at the Villa. I was listening to a seemingly endless pitch from a replacement window salesman. He was trespassing into dinner time and Elsie'd had enough: she quietly walked under the table where we were seated, and let 'er rip. This poor guy kept going with his pitch and never skipped a beat. He must have been so desperate for a sale. But his jaw was clenched, his eyes were watering, and his hair appeared to be singed. (It wasn't until much later... I realized... he probably thought I was responsible!)

I don't think anyone ever heard Elsie fart. It was the surprise factor that made them so deadly: you didn't get any warning. And since her priority was to spend every waking minute glued to my side, I was always in the line of fire. You'd think I would have developed some resistance, but right until the end, her killer farts remained consistently potent. Silent-but-deadly.

I should have at least looked into offering her to the CIA for research. I think if our troops had her stealth farts for a secret weapon, they'd be home by now.