My mother wanted a dog. So my step-father purchased a female English Setter. "Last dog in the litter," he said. My mother wasn't the only person in the family who wanted that dog. All the children wanted it, and my step-father wanted it too.
My mother named the dog "Lady." She was about six months old when we got her, black and white, and very cute. She had a friendly, inquisitive temperament and loved us as much as we loved her.
When she was not romping through nearby vacant fields, or playing with the children, Lady used to sleep under the kitchen table at various times of day and night. She was always there at supper time when we sat down to eat. One evening at supper, while the whole family was seated at the table, we all heard a loud fart and quickly smelled it.
My mother thought that my step-father had farted. She said, "Art, did you have to do that here?" He was embarrassed and quickly denied it.
The dog, meanwhile, got up and slowly walked away from the table with her head down. Perhaps the raised voices disturbed her. My brother John and I knew the dog farted. We heard the sound of a fart under the table and knew the dog was there. We couldn't suppress our laughter, which made my mother suspicious.
"Did either of you do it?" she asked.
We burst out laughing. Judging from our response, she now believed that we did it.
"Leave the table immediately!"
We laughed again as we got up and left the table.
I guess my step-father thought we did it too. He scowled and said, "It isn't funny!"
He was wrong. It was very funny. We carried our plates into the living room and finished supper. The guilty party was curled up on the sofa, sound asleep.
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