This is Strudwick’s first Christmas in Montana with us and I have to say, so far he’s been pretty good! However, the trip out here was brutal thanks to – and there is no way of delicately stating this – his gas!
We take a flight out west that is a normal-sized airline, but it is full of people coming to Montana to ski and, if you pay the extra fee, your dog can come on the plane. It’s actually quite amusing to see these big Bernese Mountain dogs and Goldens and Labs wandering about the aisles, and this year the collection included Thunder and Strud. Since I am not a dope and I know my dog, I got a tranquilizer from the vet for Strud and it did have the welcome effect of making him nice and sleepy. It also had the effect of giving him THE WORST GAS I have ever had the misfortune of being subjected to.
Wave after wave, the foul odor would waft up, devastating my breathing space and ability to function normally. I was holding him on a leash by the window seat (Doug and Thunder were next to us) and, time and time again, I was unwillingly thrust into his gas prison. There was no escape and there was no break – he was relentless. Yardley was in front of us and she got it too – she’d turn around, nose squished up, and I’d hand her a tissue to breathe through (it was all I had) but we needed a lead blanket! A down comforter! A pillow! Anything to barricade the spoiled odor molecules from going directly into our innocent endangered nasal passageways.
Alas, there was no relief and, for the entire four-plus hours, it never let up. At one point a woman nearby sprayed perfume in the air, and I can only assume she too had a nostril in gas prison. I texted Abby from the plane with the update on our distress and here was part of our exchange:
Abby: “Daily Mail: Megyn Kelly brings farting, wild dog on vacation, makes multiple passengers ill.”
Me: “My audience: yep, sounds about right.”
Since arriving in Montana, the problem has improved some but is not entirely gone. I now find myself regularly googling “dog gas, how to fight” and basically the answer is make him eat slowly or change his food. I don’t want to change his food because it’s been working so far (plus it’s a hassle), and we already feed him from one of those slow-feeder bowls so I’m at a loss. For now, my plan is before we board the plane to go home I will feed him his kibble nugget by nugget by hand for the good of myself and my fellow passengers.
Good ol’ Strud – even when he’s being good, he finds a way to be a stinker.
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